When Alex was around 13 months old, he became very attached to a special blue and white checked baby blanket. It was a gift from Hazel, my high school librarian. Hazel is a favorite person of mine, so the blanket had a special sentimental value to me as well. For some reason, Alex decided that this blanket was his best friend. He named the blanket “Becky” and no other blanket had the magical, soothing properties of his Becky. Needless to say, wherever he went, Becky went, too. My husband and I would get stares from people when one of us would frantically shout, “Where’s Becky? I can’t find Becky!” as though Becky was our second child and we’d somehow misplaced her. We were diligent about keeping track of Becky wherever we went. We did everything short of issuing an Amber Alert if we couldn't find Becky.
When Alex was 2 1/2, My husband had a business trip in Japan, so we tagged along. The first weekend we were there, we took a train trip to a hot springs in Niigata. After a relaxing visit, we boarded the train back to Tokyo. We were halfway from Niigata to Tokyo on the Shinkansen, the high-speed bullet train, when we realized that Becky was nowhere to be found. We searched every piece of luggage and under every seat in the vicinity until we realized that we hadn't seen Becky since we left Niigata. The Japanese passengers were alternately amused and annoyed with us as we searched high and low. We both started to sweat when we realized that we had lost the thing our son loved most in the entire world. Alex was sobbing and shouting, "Becky! Becky! Becky!"
We had Japan Rail Passes and no appointments in Tokyo, so we did what we had to do. We got off at the next station and caught the next train back to Niigata. Alex cheered up a bit, at the thought of the reunion with his beloved.
Feeling like complete losers, we backtracked to the train station and searched all the shops we’d visited. Frank tried to call the hotel and ask them to look for a "ba-bee blanketto" in our room, but they could not figure out what he was talking about. My Japanese is limited to domo arigato (thank you) and toire wa doko desu-ka? (where is the bathroom?), so I was no help at all.
During our frantic search of the last sake shop we visited (now you know where our priorities are), the kindly store manager took pity on us and tried to help. He enlisted the train station security guards to comb the train station and trash cans, and he called the hotel to ask them to look for the blanket for us. The hotel had the housekeepers search our room, but to no avail. The store manager obviously had small kids, because despite our language barrier, he understood the importance of finding Becky. After several hours, we finally called off the search and took our tearful toddler back to Tokyo. We bought him a new blanket at Tokyo Disneyland, but it was not the same. Even now, four years later, he still gets a little misty-eyed when he sees pictures of himself snuggled up with his long-lost Becky. We are convinced that Alex's future wife will be named “Becky”.
If your child has a special “Becky” and you are traveling, be sure to find a duplicate and leave it at home. For months after we lost Becky, I scoured the internet and eBay in search of another blanket like this one, and couldn't find it. Some families have a special “travel pal” stuffed animal that is only for trips, along with a back-up. We adopted a small stuffed bear named Charlie for this purpose after the Becky incident. Charlie was abandoned after a couple of trips, because once you've loved and lost a Becky, there is apparently no substitute.
Photo: Alex being comforted by Becky in Bermuda, 2002.
