Coming Out of the Closet

The All-Star Break has come and gone, crackerjack scarf is coming along with a decent mix of colors representing the Astros current 47-66 record, and I still can’t watch my favorite team on my TV. The baseball gods have apparently done all they are going to do for me this season so I dismantled (bada-bing) the shrine. Seeing as it’s not yet time for fall and holiday season decorations I decided it was time to bring a few of my childhood treasures out of the closet. Behold the great comics display:



The three framed pictures are all originals: Dick Tracy by Chester Gould, Snoopy by Charles Schulz, and Broom Hilda by Russell Myers. They all deserve better frames and a permanent place of honor, but at the very least I decided that they needed to come out of the closet for a bit.

As far as I can tell, you’re either a comics person or not. My family is a comics family. To the husband, reading the daily comics in the newspaper is more crucial than that morning cup of coffee. Both daughters check out a bevy of webcomics on their phones before getting out of bed in the morning. The Sunday comics are fought over, shared, and often rated. As a child, I bonded with Dad over Brenda Starr and Dick Tracy. Every birthday was commemorated with Peanuts cards. My grandmother had a cabinet where she kept comic books and we were always thrilled to find a new (still in the plastic wrap!) Archie and Jughead, Huey Dewey and Louie, Spiderman, or the Fantastic Four when we went to visit her. One of our refrigerator’s most important functions was to display worthy comics.  As I got older, Cathy and her mother often rang hysterically true to my relationship with my own mom. My life continues to be filled with inside jokes, family traditions, and everyday speech that all stem from the funny papers.

There is one treasure that you can’t see very well in the picture above. It’s helping hold up the collection of books on the left.


Chester Gould painted a rock for me. Best. Paperweight. Ever.

The glory days of the newspaper comic are over, but the format is alive and well on the web and in graphic novels. Still, it’s hard to believe anyone will come along who can touch as many people as the great masters of my generation like Schulz, Trudeau, Larson, and Watterson. Hopefully this post has got you reminiscing about some of your favorites; it’s a pretty happy place for your mind to dwell.  The only problem with this mantle display is that every time notice it, I want to sit down and dive into some of the books. I’ll just listen to the words of my favorite philosopher…


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