Columnist John Moore recalls the friends of his youth, including Harvey The Rabbit. Photo: John Moore

I never had more than one at a time, but I had stuffed animals.

 Don’t all kids have a security blanket when they’re young?

At first, I had a monkey who had a banana in one hand that fit in his mouth. His name was Mr. Bim Zip Zippy. He was my best buddy.

But then Harvey came along.

Nights couldn’t have happened if Harvey hadn’t been with me. Harvey was my stuffed rabbit. Named after Jimmy Stewart’s imaginary movie friend, Harvey was a gift from my parents after Mr. Bim Zip Zippy.

I was young when I traded the monkey for the rabbit. So young I don’t remember a time when Harvey wasn’t around.

But I do remember the day I gave him up. More on that later.

Harvey was my security blanket. But some folks’ security blanket really is a blanket.

It dawned on me what a security blanket really meant when the Peanuts cartoons were released in the 60s. Linus Van Pelt carried around his blanket. Snoopy tried to steal it and the other kids relentlessly teased Linus about having it. But Linus was unapologetic. I admired Linus for that.

As kids sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floors of the house on Beech Street in Ashdown, Arkansas, my sister and I would anxiously await the next Peanuts special. They were filled with life lessons.

You always knew that Lucy would trick Charlie Brown, who would have the football yanked from him. Schroeder would try to ignore Lucy’s romantic overtures, and Sally’s support for Linus would never wane.

Linus was his own man. A man who believed in the Great Pumpkin, sucked his thumb, and carried around a blanket; but his own man.

It was because of Linus that I carried Harvey to bed with me much later in life than I might have otherwise. But Harvey was my buddy. He was there when I needed him when the night brought what it brought.

Of course, the night brought monsters under the bed and in the closet; witches, vampires, and werewolves outside the house; and the Fouke Monster outside the house and around the corner.

I’ve mentioned the Fouke Monster previously in this space. If you’re unfamiliar with him, look him up. He got his own movie and everything.

All of these threats were out there. But if I had Harvey with me and I was under the covers, they couldn’t touch me.

Both kids and monsters know that as long as you have a stuffed animal with you and you’re under the covers, you’re safe.

Harvey was my wingman. He never left my side, all night long. I clung to him so much and for so long that I eventually hugged his ears off. My mom and grandmother sewed him back up and my dad assured me that Harvey didn’t need that much in the way of ears. Short ears were all he needed. My grandmother sewed some buttons on for eyes and he was as good as new.

It was obvious that when I’d hang out with other kids at their houses that they didn’t have a Harvey or any other stuffed animal. They’d given them up.

 It made me start to think. I thought about Linus, who was strong in what he believed, but wasn’t too ashamed to have backup.

It was in second grade when I gave up Harvey. No one asked or forced me to. I just one day decided that I was big enough to face what the night brought without him.

I’m sure that more than a small bit of the reason was that my buddies didn’t have a Harvey any longer, but a bigger reason was that I was growing up. I handed Harvey to my mom and said that I didn’t need him anymore.

The look on her face was one of surprise, but also of a realization that her little boy wasn’t little any longer. She asked me if I was sure. I said I was.

I didn’t see Harvey again. Until recently.

When I was moving my mom out of her house, I came across a chest. Inside it were Mr. Bim Zip Zippy and Harvey. There they were, waiting patiently for me.

My grandkids are now too old for a monkey with a banana or a rabbit with short ears and button eyes. So, I left them in the chest under a blanket.

As long as they’re together and under the covers, they’ll be fine.

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By John Moore| thecountrywriter.com.