Karl's Story
by
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Something glittery caught my eye. Over by the piano (how come I didn't see that before?) stood an enormous tree hung with shimmering silver threads and gleaming, brightly colored balls. On its branches perched small colorful birds of a sort never seen in the toy store. Was this Christmas? From what I'd heard, it always seemed to involve toys and trees. "Of course it is Christmas, you dummy," the same voice as before said, "Christmas Eve to be exact." It was that stuffed cat sitting next to me. She was a mind reader, like most cats. "Do you mind," I said, turning to look at her, "I'd like to keep my thoughts private." "Oh hogwash and applesauce," said the cat, "but suit yourself. And just so you know: we are placed on her table, all of us being her gifts, naturally. Just so you know. And now, stop thinking, will you. I'm already bored with your thoughts, private or not." Her name was Mimi, and that's how she talked. Her short fur was striped in gray and white, and around her neck she wore a red collar with a white nametag. She caught me looking at it. "It says MIMI right here, in large black letters, " she pointed out. I felt sad, not having a name myself. The woman who had brought me here, and who surely was the mother, had rushed out of the room and now returned with a tall balding man. "Quick, let's light the candles, dear," she whispered, "the children can't wait any longer!" Oh, so that would be the father. "You are so right," said Mimi the Cat. "My, aren't we clever." For the first time, I looked her fully in the face and was startled to see she was cross-eyed. The parents lit all the candles until the tree was alive with a light so deep and magical it made me forget where I was for a moment. Mother sat at the piano and began to play. Father opened the door to let the children in. And that's when I first saw Karin. She stood quietly in the doorway, holding the hand of a tall older girl. Probably her sister. "Once again, a brilliant deduction," said Mimi the Cat. "Oh, stop it, Mimi," I whispered. I just wanted to look at Karin. She was very young, probably only four years old. "Right again," Mimi said sweetly, "I'm so impressed with you!" I paid her no attention, being much too busy staring at the younger girl. She was pretty in a funny kind of way, with unruly blond hair, which a big floppy bow on top of her head seemed helpless to contain. Everything about Karin seemed to strive for order but couldn't quite manage. The white starched pinafore hung crooked over her pink dress. One white stocking sagged, having become partly undone from her garter belt. She didn't see Mimi and me at all; her wide green eyes looked only at the glittery Christmas tree. "I'm not used to being ignored," hissed Mimi the Cat, "oh this is not what I hoped. She doesn't even see me, can you believe it? I'm a Christmas present for a dim-witted little dunce, just my luck." At that moment, Karin's bow, already half undone, began to slide. She simply reached up and pulled it off, all the while staring at the tree, the glow of the candles brightening her eyes with warmth and wonder. It was then I felt my first heartache. You may not know that we toys have hearts. Well, we do. But our hearts can't be found. You can take us apart limb by limb, pull out all the stuffing, turn us inside out, and yet you will not find the heart. But when something big happens--and it must be something extremely good or horribly bad--it will ache for a moment. Every time. That's how we know we have a heart. "Be careful," said Mimi, "you are falling for her." "Mind your own business," I told her. Of course, she didn't listen. "Mark my word," the cat went on, "it's best never to hope for much. That way, you'll not be disappointed. But of course it takes a cat to figure that out. Why do you think we have nine lives?" Leave me alone, I thought. "In a minute," said Mimi, "but it is my duty to warn you. You'll see, within a week this disheveled snip of a girl will throw us in the darkest corner of her closet, never to look at us again. Or, even worse, cut us up and toss us out. They like to play with scissors at this age, you know. So just be prepared." I suddenly longed to be back in the toy store where the worst thing that could happen to you was to be tickled by Herr Rumpelmeier's pink feather duster. But I had no time to reflect on the safety of the toy store because just then Karin let go of her sister's hand and ran to her table of gifts. With a grin so wide it dimpled her cheeks she swept me into her arms. After that, I didn't care what Mimi the Cat might say about Karin, now or ever. I knew Karin and I would be friends for life. I had come home.
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About the Book
Karl is a very old Teddy bear who has a magic gift – he can tell stories to children who are still young enough to understand toy talk. His story begins in Europe. It's about Karl, the girl Karin, and Mimi the Cat who can read minds, and how the three friends experience and survive World War II. The chaos of the time turns Karin's world upside down, slowly at first, from no more whipped cream at birthday parties to ever more frequent air raids, crashing bombs, and a harrowing ride on a refugee train. Mimi the Cat and Karl the Bear travel for days stuffed in an old wicker trunk. In the end, Karin loses all she ever knew or loved, but goes on to rebuild her world. Karl, eventually retired, restored and displayed in a toy museum, dips deep into his memories to tell visiting children about his life, a life of resilience, hope and courage.
About the Author
Trudy Cutrone, born in Czechoslovakia, fled to Austria at the end of the war at age eleven. Much of Karl's Story is based on her own experience. She emigrated from Salzburg to the US as the bride of a Naval Officer and raised five children while earning degrees in English Writing and German Literature at the University of Pittsburgh. Besides writing, her first love, she likes to travel, garden and cook. Country Roads Press, now part of McGraw Hill, published her cookbook, Recipes of a New England Inn. She lives with her husband in Northwest Florida.