Odds and ends
Some items tell stories, shaping the past and future.
October 24, 2025 | story by Layne Knox
illustrations by Delia Rose Sauer
This story is from Atrium’s Spring 2025 magazine, which released April 2025.
Pink Teddy
FORT LAUDERDALE — Expecting a new baby, Lee Sterry was certain he’d leave Britt’s, a discount department store, with just one thing. A teddy bear. But should he buy the pink or the blue one? That was the mystery.
Lee grabbed the pink bear in hopes of the newborn being a girl, having two boys already. The fluffy blush-colored toy, with a matching satin bow tied around its neck and its tongue sticking out, later sat with its arms spread wide open in his daughter’s crib as he breathed a sigh of relief that he was right.
His daughter, Anne Brantmeyer, was never lost as a child because Pink Teddy, as she affectionately named the bear, had a bell hidden within its stuffing.
“I would crawl into Mimi and Papa’s bed in the middle of the night, every night,” Anne, now 53, once said to her daughter.
As a child, the jingle rang louder as she teetered down the hall. Anne always kept it around; whether on her nightstand or dresser in her bedroom, she knew it would stay with her no matter her age.
By the time Anne was 30, that remained true. She birthed a daughter herself and decided to gift Pink Teddy to her. As Anne brought baby Elsa home from the hospital, there was Pink Teddy in her little hands. The fluffy fur, now matted, has faded.
Elsa Brantmeyer would hold Pink Teddy as Anne read bedtime stories at night. And Pink Teddy watched over her on her nightstand when reading time was done.
“I just knew how important the bear is and it is always so fragile that I never really took it out of my room,” said Elsa, now 22.
Pink Teddy now sits on her mom’s nightstand. Elsa, being a senior in college, left Pink Teddy at home so it wouldn’t get damaged.
“I don’t think my mom knows I am going to pass it down, but I am sure she assumes I will,” she said. Pink Teddy’s arms still stretch wide open, awaiting the day that Elsa can pass it on to her own daughter.
Pictures of the Past
HILLSBORO BEACH — A leather-bound photo album weighs heavy in her lap. The edges, soft and yellow, show the passing of time as the spine cracks to reveal pages filled with faces of loved ones who are no longer around to share their stories.
Lee “Gigee” Nelson, 76, has been the proud owner of the photo album since her grandmother passed away and her mom asked Gigee to take the album. When Gigee found the photo book in her mother’s house, she dropped to the ground and cried as she realized what a treasure it was to have the pictures. Its pages showcase black and white photographs dating back to 1885.
Gigee gets to look back on her grandmother’s wedding. She sees her grandmother wearing a floral dress and her grandfather in a suit with floral spots, both with soft smiles and kind eyes. She sees her grandfather as he lays a brick for a house next to a dirt road.
Gigee flips the pages, peeling one from another, the protective sleeves stuck together over time. There are photos of her mother in 1938, linked arm in arm with her four sisters while wearing knee-length pinstripe skirts and belts that reflect the trends of the time.
The fate of the album rests on Gigee’s mind as she looks back into the past. Back when her grandmother was alive, she told Gigee how lucky she was to be able to take so many photos. She told her how cool it was that she could always see everyone. In a time when everything is digital, Gigee even took pictures of the album on her phone.
“I don’t care if the photos are digitized, there is nothing that can replace the feeling of an old photo,” she said.
Her eyes water now as she hopes aloud that the book will remain in her family. But she also voices a quiet fear they will get thrown out when she is gone. She asked her daughters once at a holiday party if they would want it; both agreed they didn’t. She closes the book, letting it settle back into place.
“People often forget about the past, but it’s important not to forget about the past, because the past forms the future,” she said, “and it must be kept alive.”
The Dollhouse
ST. PETERSBURG — A home two stories tall with seven rooms and one bath waits for someone to play in it. A forest green roof that complements the white exterior easily lifts off to reveal an attic. Teapots sit in a wooden cabinet and a robin’s egg blue floral bedspread is laid perfectly, waiting for its next guest.
The house holds more memories than people; in fact, it doesn’t fit a person at all. One day, a doll family is eating a quiet dinner while their children run up and down the halls; the next, a chef is hosting a cooking show in the kitchen with an audience of only one little girl; the day after, a doll mom is homeschooling her children in the dining room.
The dollhouse was built in 1942, a Christmas gift for Margaret Simon when she was 7 years old. Each room and delicate detail was crafted by her father and grandfather. Margaret passed it on to her daughter, Alice Thompson. And when Alice had her daughter Maggie Thompson, she was reminded of the fond memories of her dollhouse, and gifted it to Maggie under her Christmas tree.
“I remember I loved how it was the biggest gift that year, and the doll house was so huge to me at the time, I would spend hours playing with it,” Maggie, now 22, said.
Generations of girls and their dolls loved the house for years, but they’ve grown up. The toy now hangs in Alice’s garage, as there was no other space in the attic.
“It was kind of perfect that we had it hanging in the garage,” Maggie said.
In 2024, Hurricane Helene flooded their garage and rusted their bikes, but the dollhouse remained pristine. She waits for the day she can pass on the dollhouse to her own children, but for now, it will stay protected.
Baseball Cards
POMPANO BEACH — He unclips his briefcase-like card organizer, flipping the lid to reveal more than 600 baseball cards per case. His fingers scan through cases of cards, each one sealed away in a protective sleeve.
One stands out in particular for 49-year-old Kenneth Shelly. A striking black and white image, the prize of this collection. A shirtless Bo Jackson, a baseball player from 1986 to 1994, stands with his football pads on and a baseball bat resting effortlessly across his broad shoulders, fitting for a dual-sport athlete.
This 1989 football card is more than a piece of paper with his photograph; it was the gateway card into Kenny’s collection. He was 8 years old when his uncle, who was also an avid collector, gifted him his first entire set of cards. His uncle gave him a set of 1987 Topps Baseball cards, which included greats like Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire.
Kenny said he knew this was a cool hobby because his friends were also into it. With baseball, basketball and football cards at his fingertips, Kenny wanted to collect them all, but the baseball cards were what spoke to him the most — he played the sport in his youth. As high school rolled around and the stress of academics and sports weighed heavily on him, the collection fell to the back of his mind and under his bed.
While scrolling through social media one night, he saw a baseball card for sale. Something reawakened.
“I realized that now I had my own adult money, and I thought it could be fun to get back into something that brought me joy,” Kenny said.
With online shopping, card collecting no longer looks like going to the store and picking up a random pack with no idea of the mystery cards inside. Kenny has tens of thousands of cards but has never gotten them appraised.
“I would say my whole collection is probably worth roughly $10,000,” he said.
It’s a price beyond anything his 8-year-old self could imagine. Every few weeks or so, Kenny organizes his card cases, bringing order to the state of chaos his childhood self left.
