I heard that statement five or six years ago, and didn’t have a clue what it meant or what context it was supposed to be used in. 

Until the guy using it finished telling his story. 

He was talking about an issue the schoolteacher had regarding his son and certain escapades in school.  He went on to say that when his son came out the door after arriving home from school, he walked up to his son with every intention of setting the matter straight.

“I was loaded for bear and was all set to read the riot act the minute I saw my son,” he said.

That’s when I sort of got an understanding about what ‘loaded for bear’ meant. 

Turns out, I’ve ran into that phrase a fair bit since then, mostly in my own language and thought process.

Take the other morning. 

Our flight boarded at 5:30 a.m. and since it is such a small airport, it’s a good idea to be there 45 minutes before boarding time.

Which means getting there at 4:45. 

Which means leaving the house no later than 4 a.m.

I had looked at the tires on the car the day before, because with our dry weather and all, nails come to the surface of the road quite readily.  Everything looked good.

As I backed out of the garage at 4:03, the low tire pressure light flicked on. 

By the time I had hastily aired up the tire and driven to the airport, it was 4:45, maybe even 4:46.  I didn’t know if we were going to get that flight or not. 

I dropped Mama Jan off at the door, screeched into a parking spot nearby, and ran in to see if all had turned out okay.

The whole process had the beginnings of loading me for bear.

Got to security and landed up behind a nice lady who evidently hadn’t flown recently.  And I’m guessing she was the type who didn’t feel the need to expand her world for others.  She took one thing out and tried to send her bag through. 

Didn’t work. 

Took another thing out and tried to send her bag through.

Didn’t work. 

After five more didn’t works, she was able to get through; but she never looked back once at us or offered we could go.  Just her and herself alone there in that security line.

I was strapping on the essentials for bear by that time.

I watched a man across the way try to lift the handle on his suitcase and then it got stuck.  Saw him frantically try to work it down, fling his hands out in despair, finally got it, and less than five minutes later went through the whole process again.  I wanted to shout, “Dude, it’s okay!  Just leave it one way or the other!”

I knew it wouldn’t have bothered me if I hadn’t been loaded for bear already.

My kidneys seem to function in a fairly predictable manner.  No, I wouldn’t set a clock by them, but neither do they send out unnecessary alarms. 

That is, until our group was called to board the next flight in Dallas.  Suddenly, like a very onery and impudent child, they alarmed.  I thought maybe it was a false alarm and the line to board was moving right along, so I disregarded them and got on the flight. 

Within short order, they came by with drinks, and I knew I’d need liquid since the only thing I’d had was coffee. 

I chose Coca Cola. 

She gave me a whole can. 

I drank all of it.

And then the restroom got really busy with other people who must have also had lots of coffee and Coca Cola also.

If I hadn’t been so loaded for bear already, I might have been able to disregard all signals.  But being loaded up as I was now only made the new load I was asked to bear almost impossible.

About this time, my good wife awakened from the nap she was taking and noticed her glasses were no longer on her lap.  Being in that in between world of sleep and wakefulness, she nigh well panicked.  Into my hands and lap were thrust her jacket, a Coke she had just asked for, her cup of ice, two books, a napkin and her purse. 

My tray table was down, and on it was my napkin, Coke and ice.  She asked me to move over to the empty seat beside me with all those things she had just handed me and mine, so she could lean over to better look for her glasses. 

She reached blindly, and she muttered that she couldn’t see anything without her glasses.

I swallowed, and gave up meekly to what was playing out in such high drama.

*****

We traveled serenely in our rented vehicle for the next 3 hours and arrived at our cabin in the Smoky Mountains.

It was quite cold, so I turned up the heat, got the fake fireplace flickering and adjusted the thermostats on the other levels accordingly. 

I was climbing the stairs from the basement when I heard my good wife shriek my name from somewhere up on the third floor. 

After 26 years of marriage with that good lady, I know of mainly two things that make her shriek; mice, and when the airplane we are in plummets unexpectedly.  (There are other things that make her shriek, some involving cold water, and some involving swerving near a sheer drop off on the edge of the road, but I have learned, the hard way it seems, not to invoke those kinds of shrieks.)

But since I had just adjusted the heat, I must have automatically cast out the mice and airplane idea and immediately assumed that we had a fire somewhere.

Turns out I was LOADED with bear.

Literally.

I came around the corner to see a Mama in the front seats, and one of her cubs in the back seat and the second cub just climbing into the rented Toyota Camry we were driving.

I forgot for a moment that I was dealing with bears and not dogs and began to shush them away like I would a dog. 

As I approached the littlest one, it got frightened and swiveled around to face me; I continued my affront and that’s when Mama got concerned and started shushing me. 

I got me out of there.

Luckily, they got the message and all unloaded.  After a rather tense standoff in which Mama told me in no uncertain language what lineage she was sure I came from, who she was and what she would do if I ever messed with her cubs again, they all took to the hills nearby.

I looked and could see where Mama had nudged her nose under the left rear door and got it unlatched. 

After that it was a simple matter for her to find the leftover Freddie’s chicken that was her choice of fast food for the day. 

One of them had painstakingly opened the barbeque sauce packet thinking it was probably just the thing that chicken needed.

The bag with the pills, or the ‘onsite pharmacy,’ as the sweet daughter calls it, had been razed, but fortunately, whether for the bears or us I don’t know, nothing was taken.  Although it might be amusing to see just how a water pill affects a bear. . .

It was only after the bears had unloaded that I realized the whole process had a wonderful moderating effect and the thought occurred to me that I wasn’t loaded for bear anymore myself.