Minnewaska Musings

By Paul Gremmels

I haven’t eaten a bowl of cereal in fifty years. Growing up, our mother always made sure that my brothers and I ate a bowl of cereal before school every morning. We have since learned such things as; “breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” And, “Studies have shown that students are more adept in school after starting their day with a light breakfast.”

   Having gone such a length of time without breakfast, and the fact that I am truly trying to be more healthy in my lifestyle, I decided to buy a box of cereal. I didn’t realize, going into this simple life change, what a swirling trip down memory lane it would be while also noticing how incredibly complicated our lives have become. Five decades had changed quite a number of things in the cereal industry since last I was a part of it.

   My wife does most of the grocery shopping, so if you see a guy in the store blocking an aisle or standing perplexed in front of an end-cap, that would be me. I announced one morning my plan to begin eating cereal and how I was going to pick up a box at the store all by myself. My wife said “Okay” with a slight, undertone of amusement.

   I have always tried to find something interesting in even the most mundane or common things in life. Trying to understand the workings of something completely foreign to me or to find amazement, joy and humor in everyday activities. Shopping for cereal is a good example of this eccentric mindset.

   The cereal aisle was more or less how I remembered it, with the “adult” cereals like Grape Nuts and Bran Flakes on the upper shelves and Froot Loops, Captain Crunch and Count Chocula at knee height, eye level and within easy reach of the children, on the lower shelves. I stood before the wall of cereal for quite a long time. Long enough, that a young lady swooped in quickly with her cart, grabbed a box of Shredded Wheat and looked back at me three times before she hit the end of the aisle. All of the boxes are about half the width of what I remember them being, but besides a few newcomers, there seemed to be the same stock of standard varieties. I selected Raisin Bran on more or less of an impulse purchase.

   The following morning, I sat down at our kitchen island to partake in my first bowl of cereal in nearly fifty years. The box, besides being thinner, also had a plastic bag inside that had to be opened as well. The bowl that I shook my cereal into was the very same “Lassie” bowl of my youth, having the image of Lassie at the bottom. My wife, being some kind of a family historian, had received it, unbeknownst to me, from my mother years earlier. “Here’s Lassie!” She exclaimed as she handed me the bowl. I sat in relative silence, eating my cereal out of my Lassie bowl. I reached for the box of cereal with a long forgotten muscle memory, flipped it around so the back was facing me. I was disappointed that, besides nutritional information and the cereal’s self promotion, there was really nothing to read. No “This Happened to Me” stories. No “Ripley’s Believe it or Not.” Not even a teaser for a Nancy Drew mystery. Saddened by this, I finished my cereal and tipped up the bowl to get the last of the milk and there, looking back at me, was Lassie. Thankfully, some things never change.