[stylist] The Monkey in the Zoo: creative writing prompt

[Ashley Gorzelany]

I like  alot.    and that's how i feel sometimes.  like something people 
gape at.


----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Barbara Hammel" <poetlori8 at msn.com>
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Friday, January 25, 2013 11:00 PM
Subject: [stylist] The Monkey in the Zoo: creative writing prompt


Okay, I know this is short, but is this sort of what this is supposed to 
look like?

  THE MONKEY IN THE ZOO

  by Barbara Hammel



I knew that visiting another country would be interesting, but I never 
imagined the people would find me so fascinating. Or was it the twin boys? 
Or the sighted man with a blind woman and a sighted woman and the blind twin 
boys?



By this time we'd acquired one stroller and my husband was pushing that but 
I wanted a break from carrying the other in a backpack.



We got into the cage--I mean stopped at a bench--to take a rest. Before we 
knew it, we were surrounded by silent onlookers who, along with everyone 
else we met on that trip, kept giving my husband the thumbs-up.  (Was it the 
two blind boys are the two women or all of us and our purpose that made them 
do this.)



It took me back to my days at the Braille School when schoolchildren would 
take tours. (It is the school Mary Ingalls attended, after all.) We would 
always have to demonstrate how to write their names in Braille so a 
hundred--or maybe just seven or eight--would gather around the desk and not 
just stand there, but lean over me and the desk and the Braillewriter.



Now this happened to us everywhere we went in China. (I often wonder if that 
article the journalist was doing ever got published?)

I guess we were a human interest story since we were adopting boys, a rarity 
in that country, and I'm blind. I just wonder what they thought about us, 
and I wonder how they thought each of us fit in the picture.



Never mind, after all. We were just monkeys in the zoo, odd sorts of beings 
because our eyes don't see and those two sighted people were just our

handlers.



Barbara



Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance. -- Carl Sandburg
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