When I was young I liked to read comics. My favourites were Peanuts – I must have had 50 – 100, and I read them repeatedly. I think the appeal was escaping into a contained, idealized world where the seasons rolled round regularly, there was community, people played together, worked together and did identifiable fun things (set up lemonade stands; played pretend; played baseball).
When I was back home in my 30s I was trying to downsize and looked through the comics again. This time I found them a bit sad, mainly with the treatment of Charlie Brown. I passed them on to a friend with kids who loved comics: 2+ boxes of Peanuts, Wizard of Id, BC, Tumbleweeds … aaah, the memories!
I stopped by a second hand store yesterday and as I dashed through, saw one of the old Peanuts comic books. I couldn’t resist, and it came home with us (the most expensive item out of the $1.10 I spent there, at 50 cents!). I bought it for myself, out of nostalgia, but baby wanted to look at it in the car. I read a few strips to her, and she laughed. Laughed! she loved it. Once home, she asked me to read it to her again, and she continued to crack up at the punchlines and pictures.
I’ll be getting more for her, though I’m already editing the dialogue (too much stupid and dumb). And, more for me, as I relish this nostalgic trip.