George & me, then and now
Back in the 80s, when I was around 3, my childhood friend had a stuffed monkey she would carry around. I thought he was so cute and wouldn’t let him go. I cried when I had to give him back. My friend, who was a few years older than me, gave it to my mom (unbeknownst to me) who then gave it to me for Christmas that year.
I named him George, since I was into Curious George, and was the only name I could think of to give a monkey.
George would only stay on my bed and I wouldn’t take him out of the house. I cried a lot as a kid because I suffer from social anxiety and lack friends, so my tears are soaked into him along with my secrets and wishes and conversations that I couldn’t have with anyone else.
Over the years his material got filthy, and one of the last things my great grandma did before she died was sew him a set of new overalls to put over his torn/worn-out ones. I tossed his hat out when I was a tween because he was growing up with me and didn’t need that silly hat on his head. I wish I hadn’t done that but he gets a new hat every once in a while.
To protect him from further deteriorating, I keep him in a closet with a few other stuffed animals so he’s not alone. It’s just the safest place for him to be, but I will talk to him every once in a while when I’m sad or scared… or want to give him a new hat.
The top picture is me with George a few years later in the early 90s, and the photo beneath that is me with George back in 2015. I’ve taken a photo with him every decade so I’m due for another photo later this year.
Back in the 80s, when I was around 3, my childhood friend had a stuffed monkey she would carry around. I thought he was so cute and wouldn’t let him go. I cried when I had to give him back. My friend, who was a few years older than me, gave it to my mom (unbeknownst to me) who then gave it to me for Christmas that year.
I named him George, since I was into Curious George, and was the only name I could think of to give a monkey.
George would only stay on my bed and I wouldn’t take him out of the house. I cried a lot as a kid because I suffer from social anxiety and lack friends, so my tears are soaked into him along with my secrets and wishes and conversations that I couldn’t have with anyone else.
Over the years his material got filthy, and one of the last things my great grandma did before she died was sew him a set of new overalls to put over his torn/worn-out ones. I tossed his hat out when I was a tween because he was growing up with me and didn’t need that silly hat on his head. I wish I hadn’t done that but he gets a new hat every once in a while.
To protect him from further deteriorating, I keep him in a closet with a few other stuffed animals so he’s not alone. It’s just the safest place for him to be, but I will talk to him every once in a while when I’m sad or scared… or want to give him a new hat.
The top picture is me with George a few years later in the early 90s, and the photo beneath that is me with George back in 2015. I’ve taken a photo with him every decade so I’m due for another photo later this year.