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May 28, 2022Liked by FFatalism

I love Wallace and Gromit. I also love cheese. (“I’m just crackers about cheese!”) Once upon a time, before we had kids, my husband and I ventured into the middle of deepest, darkest Houston, Texas, to visit a very large specialty wine and cheese shop. There was a whole aisle just for chocolate, another whole aisle just for olive oil, and a locked display cabinet of very expensive caviar, but what made my day was that as I gazed droolingly into the cheese case, which seemed to be about as long as a city block, what should I see but Wallace and Gromit gazing right back at me. Their image was on the wrapper of a Wensleydale cheese! Imagine my delight. Of course, I bought it and brought it home, shared it with extended family, and bestowed the wrapper upon my father, who took it to his place of employment and pinned it up on the notice-board. For all I know, Wallace and Gromit are there still, twentyish years later, blessing everyone who sees them.

Now, my children love Wallace and Gromit, too. There is something sacred about being able to pass down to one’s children one’s favorite bits and pieces of life. I feel the need to find some Wensleydale and share that with them next.

Thank you for the essay.

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I grew up and have lived in the suburbs. The analogous "cheese" of the suburbs is Velveeta. It isn't even cheese but rather "cheese food." If you've ever tasted Velveeta, you've tasted the American suburbs. Either that, or the powdered cheese packets of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

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