DECATUR - Given all the fuss about that little presidential election and what with the clamor about the economy being on life support, you probably missed the real news: Chuck just visited his 50th state.

They didn't let it go unnoticed over at the Decatur School District's Keil Building headquarters, where Chuck lives between excursions and is kind of an unofficial mascot. And while he may be an androgynous, squishy, obese, foot-long pink doll with painfully emaciated arms and legs and a fat head, people care about Chuck and where he's been.

At least his official keepers Karla Johnson, known as his mom, and Carla Burger, who claims to be his aunt, care. They staged a lavish 50th celebration party at Keil, with printed invites for co-workers who got to browse refreshments and snacks.

"Some people just think we're strange," says Burger, 52, who appears surprised at anyone entertaining such a notion but says she doesn't care and looks like she means it. "Chuck had completed his 50-state tour, and we were excited."

Burger and Johnson have had this thing about having Chuck visit every state in the union and getting a souvenir picture snapped of him for his official and neatly bound family travel album. It's taken 12 long years to nail all 50, the last one falling into place when the two women set off in October on the thin excuse of a vacation visit to Burger's 23-year-old son, Kris, in Seattle, Wash. Chuck's already been there, but the women made sure to stop off in Oregon on the way to nail the last state needed in Chuck's coast-to-coast odyssey.

Perhaps not surprisingly, they crowned their visit by taking Chuck to meet a fellow dimensionally challenged person, TV's Matt Roloff. This real-life little guy and his pint-size family star in The Learning Channel reality show "Little People, Big World" and Roloff was happy to pose in pictures with Chuck at the family farm in Hillsboro near Portland, Ore.

"Matt told us he recently visited Iraq and said, 'You should have been here sooner, I could have taken Chuck with me,' " says Burger, an accounts payable analyst. "But we'd be worried; we wouldn't be sure he'd of made it back."

Chuck first laid strong claim to the women's affections 16 years ago, when Johnson, a transportation purchasing clerk, was asked by Burger to bring her back something for lunch. Visiting a discount store, she spotted the squidgy doll called "Boneless Chuck" that was shrink-wrapped to look like hamburger and thought "Burger-Hamburger," and presented it to her friend for a giggle.

"The first thing we started doing is dressing him for the holidays," says Johnson, 46. "He had no clothes of his own, and it was a bit of fun. Then it just went from there."

Chuck took up residence in a file cabinet behind Johnson's desk, where he shared space with his growing wardrobe. Gradually, trusted friends and colleagues - especially retired teacher Carol Barr, who has a severe case of post-classroom wanderlust - began taking Chuck with them on vacations and snapping souvenir pictures.

All that travel helps explain why it's taken until now to visit the entire 50 states: "He's been to more than 25 countries on five continents," says Johnson. "And we've got all the pictures. We've had a lot of fun with him."

Aside from travel, other challenges beckon. The women would like to get Chuck an appearance on either the Ellen DeGeneres or David Letterman shows, and are mulling a stab at the Guinness Book of Records for the most-traveled doll or mascot or whatever record looks Chuckable.

But in the meantime, until fame or Hollywood calls, Chuck is resting snug and secure at home on his Keil file cabinet. It's probably safer that way and keeps him well clear of those who do not believe in him.

"Once, when my son was younger - and I didn't see him do it - but my husband said he actually put Chuck in the garbage can after I took him home," says Burger. "I think he was a bit embarrassed his mom was involved in something like this."

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