Monkey Puppet
by Bob Gandy
Monkey puppet, threadbare soul worn thin
Of your time, you sit alone atop a piano
Unaccompanied, uncomplaining I suppose;
But its hard to tell, your smile ever fixed
On your dirtied, faded face, stitching undone
Reflects a tear, a joy, a time when play was
Important.
Sickness near, how unafraid you were to
Lie near me, others barred for fear of
Contagion, we talked all day about
Times to come, a new friend gained in
Parental love, I found comfort in you then.
Screaming came and with that a loss of
An eye or two by a nervous pet, gnawing
and shaking you round a room;
Chased by my tears, little I could do for
Your silent pain, your broken sight, but
Search for replacements in a button box,
Sewn so tenderly by a mothers hand, satisfying
Guilt, I couldn't look through your eyes.
Parental fury, cursing and cutting the air
With their voices found us locked in our
Room, our plans confirmed to leave them
Shouting, us to our pouting, suitcases packed
We wandered off, you in my pocket;
In fear of remembrance of what was behind
Couldn't cry, couldn't sob at things ahead...
Got late that night, cold that night,
Hurried home to a welcome bed,
Sobbing to sleep, my bottom red.
Hands torn off, one by one without
Much notice, no blood to spill, I felt no
Pain, so what concerned me, there were other
Thoughts to take your place
Shimmering chrome and smelly back seats,
Smoking parties, conquering feats beyond
Comprehension, a new dimension in my growing life,
Foolish strife.
I found again a friend yesterday in
Rubble where underneath a Monopoly
Game he had crawled;
Chest torn away and tattered;
All battered from the years abuse,
Seems little use for sympathy now.
My father wrote this poem years and years ago. It is very sad in it's own way, but it shows his special relationship with his Monkey puppet. He really existed. And when my father had reclaimed him as an adult he was something priceless and so special! I knew that even as a child. When I was allowed to have Moochie I was always instructed to take extra special care of him. I loved him too, especially because my father cared so deeply for his little monkey. He was very worn. His last eye often would pop out of his head and it would dangle by on thin string. I would gently put the eye back in it's socket and hug him tight.
My father was a very sentimental man and often clung to fond memories of the past. Moochie had made it with him through all his childhoold hardships. One day I brought Moochie to show and tell. I was so proud to stand in front of the class and tell everyone all about him and just how old he was. I even pulled him out on the way home from school to show someone. I quickly put him back into my koala backpack, or at least I thought.
I realized later in the evening that Moochie was gone. He wasn't in my backpack anywhere. I felt sick and so scared when I told my father at the dinner table that I'd lost him. We went out as a family, in the dark, to search for him, but no little Monkey Puppet was found.
I asked all of the students at school on Monday if they had picked Moochie up. One boy had. My heart lept and I asked "What did you do with him". "My mom made me throw him out". Franticly I asked if he would still be in the garbage, but to my absolute horror garbage day had come and gone and no, Moochie could not be recovered. I cried and cried. I knew my father was devestated, even though he didn't wan't me to feel bad. Sarah, my sister, tried to comfort me. She told me a wonderful story about Moochie finding a special place in the dump with other toys and living a happy and fulfilled life, visiting and going to school.
For years whenever I would thing back about Moochie I would feel guilt and a lose. In 2000 I went on a search and thanks to Ebay I found him, a brand new Monkey Puppet. Steif had retired the monkey years ago. He wasn't cheap and I didn't have a lot of money, but I pushed that all aside and purchased him.
I was so excited to bring a carefully wrapped package to my father and see him open it. He openly cried and couldn't speak at first. He was so happy to have a Monkey Puppet again. Of course, he wasn't exactly Moochie. This monkey looked much better, but he was adopted into the family right away. Moochie would at times make appearences for grandkids, and I'm told at times he would go to band performances. He was still special.
On my last birthday Moochie sat on a stack of presents from my lovely step mother. He was smiling at me. I was so grateful to have him. He looks over our family on the top shelf of our bookshelf. He really enjoys playing peek a boo with Violet and making her laugh. I guess I'm just as sentimental as my father :)
