CSotD: How to be your own best friend
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Frazz stirs up memories of real-life Calvinball, and all the games I'd play on my own. Some were dumb, some were inventive, all were fun.
And playing alone was pretty much a choice. There were plenty of kids in our neighborhood and most of them were home after school and on weekends. Plus, my little brother was always up for any kind of fun.
But "alone" was okay, too. Unlike Calvin or Christopher Robin, my stuffed toys stayed indoors, but there were real animals out there, and all you had to do was flip over a log or go down to the frogpond and you'd have all the animal company you wanted.
The great playground and launcher of athletic simulations, however, was the end of our house, which had no windows but did have the chimney and, better than that, the back of the fireplace, a broad brick surface on which you could draw a target and then decide if the bull's eye was a strike or a home run.
When my little brother and I played together, it was a strike. I'd alternate between being Frank Lary and Jim Bunning, and he'd most often be Whitey Ford, and we'd pitch nine innings. I can pin the times right down and say that the last year we did this, I was 12 and he was nine.
I know this because, when Tony Kubek joined the army, he had to insert Tom Tresh into his lineup. Kubek was back the next year, but, at 13, I was developing other interests and we moved out of the house with the great chimney that fall anyway.
If you were alone, you could pitch to both teams. Or you could simply do what this kid is doing: Smack a ball into the chimney and try to field it. That was a frequent game.
Good times. Good memories.
Jef Mallett routinely inserts his jock sensibilities into the strip, and I don't think you'd find Frazz praising a kid for sitting endlessly playing video games alone. The old geezer in me wonders to what extent kids do put down the controllers and go outside these days.
I don't blame technoloy entirely, however. It's true that indoor life before video games, before computers, in a world of four or five TV stations, could be pretty dull. Our parents didn't have to tell us to go outside. Outside was where a lot of the fun was.
But when Tony and I were on the mound facing Rocky Colavito and Bobby Richardson, Chris Hansen was only three years old and had not yet built a career out of convincing parents that letting your kids off your apron strings was a sure way to get them raped and killed.
There were also not a raft of TV cop shows featuring perverted, violent crimes committed by perverted, violent criminals against innocent, gentle people.
Nor did malls and street fairs feature booths to fingerprint children so their bodies could be identified after they wandered three feet out of mom's sight and were — almost inevitably — abducted, raped and murdered.
The world is still a pretty safe place today, but, back then, we believed it was and our parents believed it was and so we were allowed to enjoy life.
I suspect there are still a lot of kids finding ways to amuse themselves and building imaginations and having fun. I wish there were more, but I have to squelch the urge to generalize from a distance.
And to remember that, perfect children though we always were, we still could be heard to say, "There's nothing to do," when, of course, there was plenty.
Even when we were alone. Maybe "especially."
And here's a striking bit of synchronicity:
Cory Thomas's Watch Your Head is currently in the best story arc he has featured in a very long time, and he's had some good ones.
This past school year, Quincy, the good-for-nothing son of a preacher, began to give up his skirt-chasing ways and to embrace the religion of his youth, though imperfectly and inconsistently enough to keep things very funny.
But his father has come out as gay and was removed from leadership by a vote of his flock. Quincy and Omar, his roommate and, as seen here, a militantly atheistic atheist, are visiting, and in today's strip, Omar finds himself in the odd position of encouraging Quincy's depressed, dispirited dad to climb back into the pulpit.
It's not only an engaging, thoughtful and worthwhile story arc, but the timing of today's strip is exquisite. If you don't believe a militantly atheistic atheist could deliver a sermon like that, scroll down to yesterday's CSOTD and read the comments.
Mike Peterson has posted his "Comic Strip of the Day" column every day since 2010. His opinions are his own, but we welcome comments either agreeing or in opposition.
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