There was a man who spent his Saturdays dressed as a bear. Monday to Friday he was an insurance adjuster. On Saturday mornings he put on his bear suit, said good-bye to his wife and daughter and drove to the roller rink.
Nobody paid the man to skate with the children, to bow and twirl and help little ones to their feet when they fell, and to break up fights and cool down tempers in the war zones.
He never said anything, just waved his arms and pointed his paws. One afternoon a little girl reached for his paw and skated round and round with him. She was telling him a story. She had braids sticking out all over her head and a bright pink sweater. The man could not hear very well in the bear outfit, but after a while he picked up enough to realize he was being told the story of the Wizard of Oz.
It went on and on. Between surges of organ music and the roaring of skates he heard the little voice saying ``and then the wicked witch said...''
When at last she finished her story the man broke his code of silence.
``You like the movie?''
The girl nodded her head vigorously.
``Why do you like it so much?'' He lowered his head to try and hear her answer.
``Because they are so happy.''
``Happy?''
``Yea. All the people are so happy.''
The man thought about ``The Wizard of Oz'' - poor Dorothy returning gladly to her bleak home - orphan girl on a small Kansas farm - it always seemed to him to be so sad.
``The wicked witch wasn't happy when she melted away,'' he said.
``Oh yes she was! The witch was happy happy happy when she melted away - happy happy -''
The girl let go his paw and swung into the brilliant swirl of ragged children.
The man in the bear suit glided slowly through them, wondering if the girl knew the meaning of the word happy, and thinking that perhaps she did.