We attended a good elderhostel (new name: Road Scholar) program in the Ozarks. It was run by some fine, fun people and one of those was Sylvia Duncan. She discussed books that would be interesting and good to read, such as Growing Up by Russell Baker. She is a big fan of Erma Bombeck, a writer we elders all knew while we were growing up. She mentioned some wonderful books and had members of our group tell some of their favorites, such as Harlan Coben and Dana Stabenow, who writes mysteries set in Alaska.
One of the subjects Sylvie brought up that I most appreciate is cartoonists. If I had better drawing skills, I might try cartooning. Many people say that a statement like that is a cop-out, that anyone can learn to draw. Probably true. But it takes practice. I admit that "Dilbert" and "Peanuts" don't seem to me to be advanced drawing. Not lifelike or highly detailed, at least. But there is the other serious problem, too, which is imagination. I am thankful that my daily bread does not depend on being witty or insightful. I am confident that if it did, I would weigh less and so would my wife.
To me, the champion cartoonists are those that appear in The New Yorker magazine. Most of those are the one-line people, who present a drawing and a one-line caption. I try to miss absolutely none of the cartoons of each issue. It is mostly a weekly magazine (double issues sometimes create a skipped week) and somewhat expensive for a few drawings. I do read an article about once every two months or so but I catch all the cartoons I can. Some are especially meaningful, like the one of a man with a drink in his hand calling across a cocktail party," Honey, what is it I have my PhD in?" Another of a couple looking over menus in a nice restaurant and the man (naturally!) asking, "Which one of us doesn't like salmon?"
Often, the Sunday comics are the best part of the paper and a lift for the day. "For Better or Worse" by Lynn Johnston, "Zits" by Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman and many others put a smile on my face and a strong need to share their witticism with someone. For instance, professors like me and other speakers often say to a group "Please go ahead and ask questions. There are no stupid questions" in an attempt to give everyone permission and encouragement to talk. But in this week's "The Lockhorns" by Bunny Hoest and John Reimer, the couple who never stop bickering and putting each other down, the wife says as they exit a hall, "Guess you showed him about saying there are no stupid questions." This in the company of other attendees also leaving and still laughing.
Cheers for the wit and economy of cartoonists who spear many of life's truths with a single, memorable thrust!
