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My evocative object was a toss-up between a number of things, but I thought writing about crackers would be slightly less embarrassing than a stuffed Sesame Street character who still lives with me. I could have also written about my grandmother’s ring that has been on my finger for almost 15 years, or the pair of converse that are rotting in a closet at my mom’s house, but the crackers keep calling to me. Maybe I’m just hungry.

When I was really little I was a picky eater, so my mom would put together a plate of crackers, cheese, salami, fruit  and whatever else she had lying around. She called it a “nibbler’s platter.” This (plastic) platter made me feel like a grown-up, which I can only guess was some kind of subconscious understanding that I would continue eating these crackers through adulthood. There is a photo of me eating them in a high chair, and they are sitting next to my computer right now. The other day I splurged on some cheese with truffles in it, and have been eating it with the crackers, but conservatively, like the cheese is gold. Considering my financial situation, it may as well be. My dad and I like to pair them with a slice of salami and a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, which will always be my favorite picnic food.

Sometimes, I’ll get a box of crackers where the edges are slightly browned, as if they had spent a bit too much time in grandma’s oven. My brother and I call these crackers “the brown ones.” These are the most delicious of the crackers in the box, and I still get a little twinge of excitement when I discover one.

My mom and I used to pick up Stoned Wheat Thins (the brand name of my evocative crackers) at this hippie health food co-op called Rainbow Grocery. I put them in the basket alongside whatever boring, tasteless stuff my mom was buying that wasn’t Lunchables. I think the crackers were one of the only places my mom and I could meet on snack food, except for the few times a year that she let us have McDonalds and Lucky Charms on road trips. If my mom had to buy the healthy version of Fruit Roll Ups, at least I still had my crackers.

I have never really considered choosing any other crackers, and unless they aren’t available, I still don’t. Maybe some would say I am unadventurous.

When my high school boyfriend and I were fighting one of many times, he told I was like one of those crackers. I can still quote him in my head: “You are like one of those crackers! Boring and predictable!” He said this with such amused symbolism, as he watched me stuff crackers in my face. My best friend pointed out that his argument wasn’t totally valid because Stoned Wheat Thins “Go with everything, are great for entertaining, and are both fun and comforting.” She now works in marketing.

My best friend also became obsessed with them probably sometime in high school. When she came over to my house she would go for the pantry, pull out the crackers and sit on my floor and munch on them like a little mouse. When I visit her in Nashville she will always have a box sitting in her cabinet, and after a weird night of karaoke and too many girls in short skirts and cowboy boots, we retreat home to our crackers. We’ll sit on her kitchen floor eating them as her cat walks circles around us, confused as to why we are down there with him. He jumps at pieces that fall on the floor, licking the salt off the tops.

When I was in college and started to get those really bad hangovers, the first thing I would reach for was the crackers. Too exhausted to figure out how food worked, I would drink two glasses of water and bring my crackers back to bed with me, trying to be extra careful about crumbs.

These crackers are a mainstay on road trips, as an afternoon snack in a Ziploc bag, as crumbs on my dining room table, as scraps for my cat, as an object of discord in relationships (why would you want to buy Ritz?), and even as a character trait. God forbid I ever become allergic to gluten.

I don’t like to think about what I’d do if Red Oval Farms went out of business, but I also don’t see that as a real possibility, because I’m sure I contribute significantly to their earnings. A few years back, there was a scare that Mother’s Cookies was going out of business and wouldn’t be saved. When my dad couldn’t buy the pink and white Circus Animals anymore, we just about cried. One day they appeared back on the shelf at the grocery store and it felt as if someone had come back from the dead.

Despite the ravished economy, I am optimistic that my crackers will make it through the apocalypse. After all, they go with everything, are great for entertaining, and are both fun and comforting.