The perfect cure.

Being it is the holiday season, I have been coming across assorted remembrances of the famous furry trio known as The Chipmunks. In their day, they probably sold more albums than that other made-for TV band, The Monkees. Now they seem to pop up on numerous blogs. Shoot, even Gryphen wax's nostalgic over the annoying mini-mammals. Perhaps Elwood summed it up best, so check out his spin on the chalkboard scraping super group.
As for me? Well, many, many years ago in an effort to earn desperately needed cash I worked at a Santa's Village tourist trap back east.
For three years every Sat& Sun between Sept and Jan I worked for 9-10 hours a day.
The owner had only two Christmas albums in stock. A fifties rock collection and the Chipmunks. These were played in a continuous loop over the entire compound, imagine how challenging that was in the the days of vinyl.
It was not a bad gig, I met a lot of people, learned some skills, and got to play with many exotic animals. It was also where I got to meet my first Kodiak bear. His name was Billy and he was far from home.
The bad side is that 30 years later I would still flinch whenever I heard those warbling soprano's start up.
Now, what cured me of Eutamiasphobia?
I got to spend a large part of this summer with one of my granddaughters. When ever the Kodiak summer turned wet and wild we settled in with her small but well used favorite movie collection.
To my chagrin I discovered the chipmunk movie in the back of the pile.
It had been placed in the back by her mother, in hopes that it would not surface to often. Better to watch Monsters Inc. repetitively than one more run through those furry little sadistic singers.
Once Flower saw that DVD, the Chipmunk chant began. Gritting my teeth I placed it in the player. After all, how can you say no to a child as bright as any summer day? A child whose smile and scream of Pappy!, as I came through the door, would push all the dark and weary parts of my day away and replace them with light and joy.
Gritting my teeth, I placed the DVD in and sat back, secretly hoping that some defect would prevent it from playing. No such luck.
But luck has a funny way of turning out doesn't it?
Watching the movie was relatively painless. Watching Flower, watch the movie was priceless. Listening to her sing, quietly, along overcame years of self induced bias.
How do I know I am cured?
Last weekend I was part of the Santa drive-by out here in Flatville. As we cranked out the kiddy tunes over the P.A. there came up the inevitable "Christmas Time", by the trio.
Watching the joy of those kids as Santa stepped off the firetruck, and Alvin and the gang warbled, I did not flinch. In fact I smiled.
Thank you Flower. Thank you Alvin, Theodore, & Simon. You have taught this old Flatratter that the circle is truly round.
Peace ya'll