I'll See You In The Funny Papers

The Old Man heard a day or so ago that one of his childhood girlfriends is going to leave us on June 13th. That's the day the last Little Orphan Annie comic strip will be published. Sometime back they changed her name to just plain Annie, but not to me. I'm a traditionalist.

This news set me to thinking. I began to recall the newspaper comic strips that I remember and miss. They existed before the concept of Political Correctness ever reared its pompous head. Pull up a chair.

Little Orphan Annie.... had no pupils in her eyes. I could never figure out how she got around. She also had a mysterious "quasi-father" named Daddy Warbucks. "Warbucks".....break that one down. He was rich and I always wondered why, if he had so many bucks, Annie had to wander around with her dog Sandy and sometimes be accompanied by a guy in a turban named Punjab, or something. Why didn't she just go and live in the Warbucks mansion? Dr. Phil could have a field day with this one.

The Katzenjammer Kids.......these were a couple of rowdy hellions who tormented their uncle by always playing pranks on him. They would put tacks in his chair, or glue in the syrup bottle, or give him a "hot foot". The strip always ended with uncle beating the snot out of the kids with his cane. I can almost see the ACLU salivating.

Henry......interesting little bald kid with a nose that stuck up in a point like the end of a coat rack. Henry had no mouth so he never spoke. He and his friend Egghead had many adventures and the construction of them gave a laugh. One strip had Henry and Egghead taking off all their clothes and jumping in a pond. Print that one today and you'd be on the 6:00 news as they hauled you off.

Joe Palooka....an All American looking boxer who exemplified the "good guy" with great toughness. Think maybe if Rambo and Alan Alda had a son. Joe had a shock of blonde hair that hung down over one eye. I never could figure out how he could see to punch. Joe's manager was a cigar chomping guy named Knobby Walsh. Violence and smoking in one strip. Ahhhhhhhh, sweet.

Our Boarding House......a one & sometimes two panel strip featuring Major Amos Hoople, a bragging, get-rich-quick schemer who loved corned beef & cabbage. From the sight of his belly, he had it regularly. There were always a few other residents of the boarding house willing to be taken to the cleaners in Hopple's schemes. Every year on New Year's Eve, the gang at the boarding house would be heading out to celebrate. The next panel would show them the next morning, badly hung over, with ice bags on their heads and aspirin bottles in their hands. I think the president of MADD just fainted.

Bringing Up Father.....Jiggs and his wife Maggie were always at odds. Maggie was the reincarnation of Shakespeare's shrew. All poor Jiggs wanted to do was read his paper, go to his lodge hall, or play some cards with his friends. Maggie was constantly chewing his ass out about something and no matter how hard Jiggs tried to please her, the chewing continued on up his back.

Dick Tracy.....still in print, Tracy was the consummate cop. Communicating with his partner, Sam Ketchum, with his 2-way wrist radio, he fought a variety of bad guys. Names like, Flathead or Blimpface were common. Strip originator Chet Gould always drew these characters to look like their name. Were they real, they would be on Oprah today, exploring their lack of positive self-image.

When you open a door in the memory vault, stand back. Mandrake the Magician, Steve Canyon, Flash Gordon, Terry & the Pirates, the Gasoline Alley gang, and a host of others were like friends to a kid growing up in the '40's and '50's. They took us to fantasy land or made us laugh. I've tried, really tried to have the same feelings today, but it's hard to get "into" most of the strips in my morning paper. Oh, there are some standouts; Beetle Bailey, Hagar the Horrible, and others bring a chuckle, but then there's Doonesbury?

What A Kid

The Old Man is probably going to tug at your heartstrings a bit today. And for that I make no apology. Spiritual growth and its subsequent development have always been very important in our family. As such, we have always tried to instill in our children the importance of faith in a higher power. Label the power as you choose, but to us, it is our Christian faith.

Far be it from me to "preach" to you. That would be presumptuous and could be viewed as arrogant on my part. George Carlin said it best when he commented, "How come it is that the people who most want to tell you about their religion are the ones who least want to hear about yours?" But it's important for me to convey some beautiful moments that we have recently experienced.

Grandson, Jackson, was baptized this past Saturday. It was a very special time, shared with a very special child. Jackson was given the option of having the ceremony performed in a swimming pool, being sprinkled in a worship service, or being immersed in the ocean. He chose the ocean. When asked his rationale, he said, "What better place to be baptized than in one of God's greatest creations?" Pretty astute for an 11 year old. But then, this is the same kid who went around his neighborhood raising money for those suffering in New Orleans after Katrina.

When he was about 4 years old, he mentioned to his folks that when he was an angel up in heaven before he was born, he met his little brother. There were really no plans for a little brother, and it was never really mentioned again. Then 6-7 years went by and guess what? A little brother came along.

Jackson simply looked at his mom and said, "See, I told you."

At one end of Jekyll Island in southern Georgia, there is a beach known as Driftwood Beach. So named because of the graveyard of downed trees. Brought down by a combination of storms and erosion, these giant live oaks lie scattered about the beach like a child's Tinker Toys shaken from their carton. After a short walk through a tunnel of palms and live oaks gorged with Spanish Moss, we came out onto the beach and picked our way through the ghosts of trees long dead and bleached to a silver luminescence, gathering at a clear spot at water's edge.

After a few short comments and a prayer, Jackson and the pastor made their way out into the water. A few steps into the ocean, the pastor turned to those of us on the beach and said, "For the record, this water is cold." Once in position, the pastor gently laid Jackson back and quickly submerged him in the chilly water.

As they came out of the water, Jackson's mother smiled, his father smiled, his grandparents smiled, and I have no doubt in my mind.......

God smiled.