When I was a little boy I was a big fan of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, and I especially liked when Mister Rogers visited the Land of Make Believe, which my little ears heard as the “Land of Maple Leaf” — apparently it seemed plausible to me that Canada was populated by talking puppets and everyone took miniature public transportation. Still seems plausible, actually.
None of which explains the dream I had over the weekend, in which I was meeting a large group people at a (Wheaton? surely!) restaurant. I arrived second; Mister Rogers was already there. I was surprised to see him but took it in stride, and we began discussing the other members of our party. When I told him several children were expected he brightened, and asked their names; at the time I was able to tell him all their names but now I remember only that the youngest child was named Colby.
Mister Rogers was worried he would not be able to remember the name Colby by the time Colby arrived at the restaurant, so I helpfully suggested that he think of Colby as “Cheese Boy” (Colby cheese, eh?) to help remember. Mister Rogers, sounding unusually disapproving, said he wasn’t sure he would like a little boy named Cheese Boy, and then I said, “but Mister Rogers, sometimes people call me Cheese Boy, and you told me you like me just the way I am!” I was quite upset that maybe Mister Rogers might not like me after all, now that he knew of my love of cheese, but Mister Rogers started laughing, and pretty soon I started laughing, and we laughed and laughed, and Colby still hadn’t arrived, and then I woke up.
Mister Rogers was too polite to ask me why I haven’t posted on the blog in two weeks. He is such a nice man, even in dreams.