The Original Manford

Description: The Story of the Real Manford Manford is – or, I'm sad to say, was – a small, plush, stuffed moose. I first saw him hanging from my hiking partner's backpack. “Who's this?” I asked. “His name is Manford,” Vicki replied. “He's coming along on our adventures from now on.” And so he did, accompanying The Usual Suspects (Vicki, Doug, Ken, and Mic) year after year on more than five hundred miles of hiking escapades – wearing his own special backpack and hat that Grandma Parrilll, Ken’s 90-year-old grandmother had made – enjoying the scenery, warning of danger, and munching secretly on willows, adding to the weight of Vicki’s pack. But Manford did more than ride around. When friends were sick, Vicki took him to visit. When they were in the hospital, Manford stayed with them. When they went alone on a trip, particularly down the long highway from Alaska, he rode along to keep them company. Manford was companion to us and to our friends in good times and bad for more than five years. In the fall of 1995, Ken’s brother, Donnie, got very sick. Manford stayed by his side until the sad day of his death. Then something else tragic happened. Vicki called me at my office. She was sobbing and could barely say the words. “Manford ... Manford ... he's been cremated,” she said. Due to a terrible mistake, Manford was cremated along with the body. Their ashes were scattered together in the woodlands of Colorado. “Will you help me find another one,” Vicki pleaded. I left work at once. I took the downtown stores; she took the outlying shopping centers. We went to every gift store in Anchorage. We found stuffed bears, eagles, huskies, puffins, seals, walrus, and, of course, we found moose. But we didn't find Manford. We went through photos from our backpack trips and found Manford's picture. I had copies made and took them to all the stores again. “Have you seen this moose?” I asked. Still, no one had. I got a list of suppliers from one of the stores. I wrote a Heart-Rending Letter and sent it and the pictures to them. I dreamed about finding the motherlode of Manfords, about buying whole cartons of him, and staging a joyous homecoming. One by one each supplier answered saying: we're awfully sorry you lost your little friend, but he didn't come from us. We looked for Manford throughout that winter and through the next year. We checked every display of stuffed animals in every store we passed in every city each of us visited. “If I ever find him,” I said, “I'll buy every one the store has.” I checked stuffed animal collections in the back windows of parked cars, and in game machines with stuffed animals as the prize. Manford was not to be found. In the fall of 1996, I went fishing in Southeast Alaska with my oldest brother, Mike. We went to Ketchikan, Petersburg, Sitka, and Juneau. When we weren't fishing, we walked downtown streets to see what was there. I automatically turned into every store I passed that had a stuffed animal display. We got to Juneau in the evening. Most of the stores were closed but we walked through downtown anyway. One store had stuffed animals in pigeon-holes covering an entire wall. The window was dark but I looked through the glass to see what was there. In the very bottom row, I saw Manford. I went back the next morning. There were three Manfords on the shelf. I bought them all. When I returned to Anchorage, I left all three on Vicki’s desk at work along with a letter to her, from Manford, explaining where he'd been. Off on a scary adventure, he said. He was sorry he hadn't written or called. Vicki was overjoyed to have Manford back. And now I knew who Manford's supplier was. I sent them the pictures and the Heart-Rending Letter. They answered saying: we're sorry, but he's been discontinued and no stock remains. They sent a sample of the moose they now carried. It looked like Manford, but it wasn't. It was bigger and fatter and seemed like it might be his uncle. I called the supplier in New York and asked where recent shipments had been sent. More than a thousand Manfords had gone to a toy store in Ontario, Canada, the previous spring. I called them. Yes, they still had some. “I'll buy them,” I said. We talked prices and shipping and customs charges over the next several weeks. And then ... I bought twelve dozen Manfords ... every one they had left. UPS brought them to my door. Now I have all the Manfords left in the world. I decorated Vicki’s office with Manfords one day when she'd gone to lunch. She returned to find little moose smiling at her wherever she turned. Now Manford is back home having fun with us and our friends. He’s continuing the backpacking tradition wearing a new backpack and hat made by Grandma Parrill’s 65+-year-old daughter, Gladys, and he also appears in the many adventure stories written about him: Manford of MorningGlory Mountain. And he will never be lost again.

Price: 12.5 USD

Location: Lexington, Kentucky

End Time: 2025-01-19T15:55:37.000Z

Shipping Cost: N/A USD