I’ve written about my sock monkey and his offspring before. When my granddaughter started trying to sneak into my room just to see him, I thought it would make another cute post. On the way to wordpress, though, memories washed over me and the nature of this post changed. Maybe the nature of today’s holiday?
Way back when I was around the age of 5, or 7, definitely in the 1950s, a neighbor three doors up from us brought me this sock monkey. Her name was Mrs. McCord, her husband was Frank and a daughter maybe ten years older than I, was Carol. Carol grew up and married a fellow named Wally and Wally went on to drive me to the hospital when I broke my arm. Frank and his wife were the first on our street to own a color television, and they invited my sister and I to their house one evening to watch a new show called Daniel Boone in living color. All of that is pretty impressive and even though I’ve always been thankful, I don’t think I ever passed on the depth of my gratitude. Frank and his wife may have passed on, Carol is probably in her mid-to-late seventies, and I have no idea where she’d be.
That’s sad. The thought that washed over me was a waking dream of me driving to Pottstown with my granddaughter and my monkey, finding Carol, and introducing my granddaughter and reconnecting Carol with her mother’s handiwork. My monkey comforted me on many scary nights and entertained me often when I was stuck inside. Carol would have to forgive the tiny bits of paper towel and glue around the monkey’s eyes. That’s where I glued a paper mask when my monkey was the Lone Ranger. Carol would hopefully forgive the poor sewing job this 9 or 10 year old did patching holes that I wore through the sock skin. And the string on the arms from when I tried to turn my monkey into a marionette. It took a lot of trying before I realized I needed strings on the head, too, otherwise he just hung, inactive, from his wrists. Poor thing. I didn’t mean it to be torture.
So thank you, McCords. You were wonderfully giving neighbors. I hope Carol has grandchildren of her own so that each can have a sock monkey. And I hope somehow you can feel the joy it gives me seeing my little one with one of your mother’s selfless gifts.