CSotD: Hale and Farewell
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Mark Tatulli and Lio offer a final salute to Cul de Sac, which ends its roughly-five-year run today. And I do not believe that the selection of comic characters left behind was chosen at random, though there are many, many others he might have included in the Old Boys Club.
Nor do I believe that today's final Cul de Sac was selected at random. It is a rerun, as have been the strips since Richard faced the impact of his Parkinsons and decided to — using the word he insists upon — "quit," but it functions, in parting, as a fitting salute to the medium.

I've already said plenty about Cul de Sac and Richard Thompson, so I'm going to direct you instead to this extensive and solid appreciation of his work and the legacy of the strip, written by cartoon historian R.C. Harvey and pointed out by Andrew Farago, curator of the Cartoon Art Museum.
It's quite long, so, if you aren't going to read it now, you should bookmark it for later, because it is not to be missed.
Meanwhile, a couple of comments of a more personal nature:
Richard Thompson is among a very small handful of on-line friends whom I have also met in person, and it is easy to see how, among cartoonists and cartoon experts, their admiration for his art is colored by affection for him personally. He's talented enough that there is no obligation for him to also be such a nice guy, and yet he is. I'm going to miss the comic strip but intend to retain the friendship, and I suspect I'm not the only person saying that today.
Also: I took these photographs while walking the dogs on a rail trail in western Maine in the early morning, just about the time I first saw Cul de Sac, which is coincidental except that skootching down to photograph them at their own level reminded me of being a little kid in the woods at home, and how I would spend long periods of time hunkered down just like that, watching ants do something or searching a rivulet for caddis fly larvae or examining the layers of bark on a twig.
What Alice and Dill and the gang at Blisshaven brought back to me was that brief moment when I wasn't sure how the world worked yet, but I was infinitely open to figuring it out, sometimes correctly, sometimes wildly off-base, but always with a tiny child's patience and reverence for minutiae that simply doesn't last beyond those first few years.
Richard managed to recapture that brief moment and make us laugh, not in mockery but in remembrance.
I miss that little boy and I'm going to miss Alice, but I am grateful that she provided such a clear gateway back to him.
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