Incessant Divagation

“WHY DO YOU STILL READ THOSE GOOFY COMIC BOOKS ?” 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

I was looking through some of my old comic books recently. Whenever I do this, Lois just shakes her head, but doesn't say anything about it. Sometimes she thinks I should just sell them all and grow up, but doesn't say anything. I think she just got tired of all the various reasons [AKA “excuses”] I've given her over the years for keeping my treasures. 

"Growing up leads to growing old which leads to dying”, I'll say, stealing lyrics from John Cougar Mellencamp; or “there are worse habits, and as long as I'm not buying new comics, this habit's already paid for”; or “they may be worth a ton of money some day” [we both know that for at least 98% of them, that's not true – and the real trick is figuring out which ones are part of the 2%]. The best excuse – oops, I mean, reason – I can give for keeping the comics is “the boys will inherit them”. That doesn't convince Lois of anything, because she's not sure the collection will do either of our sons any good, but it rallies the boys to my side of the discussion.

Our sons already get some of my treasures as part of their Christmas and birthday gifts. I believe in the old adage, “Keep your children happy – they get to decide which nursing home to put you in”. 

Lately, my response to “reading comics AGAIN?” has been, “Well, like you said, I should get rid of some of them. I'm sorting out the ones I could sell on eBay. There are a bunch I'm ready to sell, but these few are ones I'm “iffy” about. Reading them once more will help me make up my mind”. 

Theoretically, that's a sound idea. But practically, out of 40 “iffy” comic books, 3 will wind up in the “sell” box, 2 will be set aside as presents for the boys, and the other 35 go back into the collection. The fact that I don't even have a seller's account on eBay makes it hard to defend my statement. Plus, when Lois sees comics featuring Captain America, the Fantastic Four, Dracula, or Super Goof in the “iffy” stack, she knows it has become the “nostalgia” stack, because there's not much chance of me parting with those treasures, to the boys or to the highest bidders.

And no, “Super Goof” is not a disparaging reference to Superman.

Super Goof is the super-powered character that Mickey Mouse's friend Goofy becomes when he eats special peanuts known as “super goobers”. At one point, he starred in a comic book named Goofy Adventures, my nominations for the best comic book title ever.

Incessant Divagation

LOIS GOES TO CAMP 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

It's that time of year again ; Lois is away at Camp Waka Waka. She goes with friends to a women's retreat in Michigan. This event has become almost like a holiday for us – that is, it involves nearly as many traditions as Christmas does.

Every year we look for ways to raise a little extra cash for Lois's trip to camp. This year [not for the first time] it involved a two family yard sale. That means an annual tradition of sorting through our stuff and deciding what to get rid of. We go through our too-extensive collection of videos. I'll stand at the shelves and read titles that I'm willing to sell, and she'll “yea or nay” them. We've agreed that if one of us says it's a keeper, it stays. After the better part of an hour, we relinquished just four movies. Other yard sale traditions include:

My back being sore for days from hauling boxes to the sale, to the tables, back to the car when it's all done, and to the local Salvation Army donation site;

Late nights pricing items – Lois reminding me that something is “like brand new”, me reminding her that yard sale buyers will only pay yard sale prices;

Lois preparing some really good meals [the other family hosts the sale at their home's location] – this year, homemade barbecued pork, and egg salad; All other meals being based on frozen dinners because we're both so tired from hauling stuff, and sunburned;

Me being in charge of setting up the books, comic books, videos, and music, because most of that stuff used to be mine, then cringing when someone actually buys one of my departing treasures;

Me telling a pre-teen kid to take care of his new comics, some of which are three times as old as he is;

Lois and I agreeing that after all the muscle aches, sunburn, and lack of sleep, this will absolutely be the last yard sale we'll be involved in . . . then putting half of what's left into storage, in case we decide to do “just one more sale” next year.

Is it worth the effort? We do spend two days with a family we like being with, and usually get enough money to cover the cost of camp. The rest of the funds? The change gets put into rolls and deposited in the bank; some cash goes to the collection on the following Sunday at church; and I look like Mister Moneybags because my wallet is bulging with that huge stack of one dollar bills. Two days after the sale was over, I filled the car's gas tank and gave the cashier one $5 bill and twenty-three $1 bills. She was not amused.

Another food-based tradition connected to camp involves beef liver. That's a meat that often elicits very definite opinions. It's not your basic “I can take it or leave it” food. I actually enjoy it. Lois hates it. It's so abhorrent to her that the smell of liver cooking nauseates her. So the week she'll be leaving for camp, I buy my traditional package of beef liver. The night before she leaves, I let it thaw. The day she leaves [in the early morning], I cook and eat the liver for either lunch or supper. This is followed by the “opening of many windows” tradition, to be sure the house is thoroughly aired out before Lois returns.

I also plan on preparing supper that night. She always says she's been re-energized, refreshed, and had a wonderful time. Then she collapses on the couch, physically exhausted, and “lets” me haul in her suitcase.

It's an annual tradition.

Oh, and the camp isn't really named “Camp Waka Waka”. Then why call it that? Tune in next week and I'll tell you.

Incessant Divigation

“ARCHIE AND THE GANG” 

by Rick Jones, Husband of the Minister's Wife

I am divagating far afield this Friday. News from the world of comic books brings a mixed wave of nostalgia, fear, and hope.

Archie Comics has launched a “makeover” of Archie and the gang from Riverdale High. My fear is that changes will ruin the beloved, iconic characters; my hope is that they'll be more popular for a new generation. And nostalgia . . . most Americans have fond memories of Archie, Jughead, Betty, and Veronica, even if they don't care about any other comic books. Horror novelist Stephen King recalls Riverdale as “a great place where I took many welcome vacations from reality.”

Since his first appearance [December 1941] Archie Andrews has literally become world famous -- he's “Archi” in Mexico, “Acke Andersson” in Sweden. In special “crossover” projects, Archie has met The Punisher [from Marvel Comics], the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the rock group KISS, and this month, there's Archie vs Sharknado – no, I'm NOT kidding – written by the director of Syfy channel's Sharknado trilogy.

A couple of years ago, a homosexual teen, Kevin Keller, transferred to Riverdale High. This was shocking news to readers – but not as shocking as it was to Veronica, who couldn't figure out why the new kid in town wasn't responding to her flirtation. But when Sabrina, the Teenage Witch debuted in 1962, it wasn't to promote the occult; Josie and the Pussycats, an all-girl band, wasn't designed to teach about gender equality or rock music; and when black band member Valerie Smith began dating Archie, it did not trigger heavy-handed lectures on interracial relations. Through all the changes, the stories still centered on Archie's mishaps, Jughead's sarcasm, rivalries, confusion, and camaraderie. I hope they remain so. Riverdale should be a place for a short vacation, not overt social commentary. 

Hopefully, the company learned that lesson from their 1984 revelation that “Big Moose” Mason, high school sports hero and all-around dumbbell, was not actually stupid – he had dyslexia. Unfortunately, all the stories before and after that one didn't help people understand the challenges of dyslexia; they unintentionally suggested that dyslexics were dumb, like Big Moose. In 1995, I spoke to an editor at Archie Comics who said that he'd heard of the story, but never saw it, and that it was pretty much forgotten at their headquarters . . . implying that he hoped the readers had also forgotten it.

I hope so too, because while I'm not sold on the idea of using comic books to teach young readers about “heavy” issues, I think something very valuable can be learned if we skip the “revised Moose” story.

Big Moose is dumb. Really, really dumb. He's lucky his feet are so big, because his IQ is smaller than his shoe size. Any dumber and he'd die, because he'd forget to breathe. The teens of Riverdale often have to deal with the complications caused by the overwhelming, no excuses, just plain dumbness of Big Moose.

But he's part of the gang. His best friend is Dilton Doiley, a geeky teen super-genius. Archie, and the rest of Moose's pals, wouldn't dream of excluding Moose just because his intellectual abilities don't match theirs. Because, regardless of any other factors, he's still part of the gang – and you don't bail on your friends.

Now, there's a socially relevant lesson worth learning.