January 13, 2012
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The Monkey's Tale
Memories, memories, memories. Some come with a smile and others with a tear. Many are connected to feelings like accomplishment, anger, confusion, embarrassment, joy or sorrow. Some are just snippets and others are full-fledged stories. It has been a blessing to have others share their memories of dad and we especially appreciated his brother and sister sharing some of their early memories of dad.
I'm here to confess that one of my early memories of dad intersects with my thumbsucking problem. There's just something about having a thumb always handy. It doesn't get lost like a pacifier and it fits perfectly into the mouth no matter what the age. I found it helpful to be able to hold something while I was sucking my thumb and for a while that something was a sock monkey. I would drag him around by the tail and when I sucked my thumb, I would hold his tail in the same hand.
Dad and mom gently tried to encourage me to break my habit, but those cherished habits are hard to break. One afternoon when I was still young enough to take a daily nap but old enough to remember, Dad put me down for my nap. Of course I wanted my monkey, but dad thought I was old enough to nap without him. He took my monkey and tied him around the bare lightbulb that was in the ceiling of my room. The monkey hung from the lightbulb with all four legs hugging the bulb with his non-prehensile tail hanging down. Dad turned off the light and shut the door so I could have a quiet rest. I promptly fell asleep and had myself a good nap.
We had guests at the time and for some reason, while I was asleep, one of them (I think it was another child) flipped the light switch on. I was happily sleeping when my sock monkey began to smolder and I slept through the ensuing excitement. When the smell finally reached my parents' noses, it was too late to save the monkey. The non-prehensile tail hadn't been clinging to the lightbulb and it escaped the slow burn.
When I woke up, there was a slight odor in the room that I couldn't identify. Dad came into my room with his hand behind his back. He told me that he was very sorry that he had tied my monkey around the light and then told me what had happened. His hand came out from behind his back and he showed me the tail which was scorched at its base. I know that Dad felt badly about my charred monkey, but he thought maybe I would still like the tail. I tried it once, but it just wasn't the same.
For years when I would see a sock monkey, I would remembered the monkey that had met its early demise. I don't remember holding any grudges through the years because I knew Dad had really been sorry. Once in a while I would be tempted to buy a new monkey, but I never did.
About a week before we traveled to New Mexico, I shared this story with a couple of friends. We laughed and then our conversation took another turn, but Andrea didn't forget the story. The day that dad died, she spotted a sock monkey in a store and purchased it for me. On Sunday, she handed me a gift and when I opened it, I found my new monkey! I tucked him into my bag where he sat during the service and when I left the service in tears, he was in my hand - a reminder of dad and a token of a friend's love.
Comments (1)
That is a beautiful story--a peek at the kind of man your Dad was, an account of what it means to have a friend who hears your heart. And, as always, you told the tale beautifully. (As I just commented to another friend about her writing--are you saving all these stories so you can compile them into a book? I think it would be a wonderful read, Mary! You have such a delightful heritage--and are continuing that into the life of your own boys.)
My youngest brother, also a thumb-sucker, always held a Puffs kleenex (only that brand would do!) in his thumb hand and slowly shredded it as he happily sucked away. A sock monkey would have been a much neater companion!
My mother-in-law made sock monkeys for both of my boys. One of them quite regularly sucked on the tail of his monkey--even though I have washed the critter, the end of its tail was permanently skinnier than the rest of that appendage, I guess from having been sucked! I still have one sock monkey in residence in my basement, waiting for the day his owner leaves for his own home where said monkey can someday be loved by another little child.
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