Chipmunks and Cheerios

1950

As a child of five, the finest literature available to me was The Little Golden Books. My favorite characters were Chip ‘n Dale – the chipmunks, not the dancers.

These creatures were one chromosome up from rats, but they were cute. And, of course, they were gay, but the good nuns hadn’t taught me the evils of that particular perversion yet, so I didn’t notice.

They were also mischievous trouble-makers, but I overlooked their behavior and most of their plot lines because what really drew me to them was their home. Chip ‘n Dale lived inside the trunk of a tree. It was small and poorly lit, but warm and cozy. Never mind that chipmunks actually live in burrows, I didn’t know that until Bio 101 and by then it was irrelevant.

As I remember, Chip ‘n Dale slept in a tiny bed made from a matchbox filled with leaves they gathered themselves, their lampshades were walnut shells and their curtains were discarded gum wrappers. (Don’t correct me. This is MY memory.)

These rodents were the Martha Stewarts of my childhood and their home was a model of the cozy, secure, intimate ambiance I envisioned creating for my future family.

1977

Finishing up my 4-year-old’s mauled Pop-Tart, I notice tiny sparkling objects floating mid-air in the corner of the kitchen ceiling. I climb up onto the seat of my chair to get a closer look and don’t have to be a physicist to know that this sun-lit illusion has been created by randomly tossing Cheerios up into a cobweb.

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