By Britt Schramm
April 24, 2006
**We interrupt your normally scheduled rantings from a 30-ish slightly overweight comic book geek to bring you a story from a father who has some things to say about the world of comics. Be warned – there might be some treacherous (meaning sappy) passages ahead. Your usually angry columnist will return next time. Until then, enjoy.**
Sometimes, I seem to go through mornings just trying to make to the end of the day or going through the workdays just so I can recoup on the weekends. Recently, it has begun to be a very dull routine. Now, I have a feeling that I’ll be looking at the week in a different light.
Last Monday was my son, Brady’s third birthday. We did the usual things that kids like do during those occasions – go to morning pre-school then hit the local Chuck E. Cheese and party like there’s no tomorrow in case tomorrow would not include activities like skeet-ball or riding with Scoop. Then, after a couple of hours of partying and playing, head home to veg out on Little Einstein videos until dinnertime where chicken nuggets, fries, Sprite (which has been given the clever moniker “Party Drink” by my mother-in-law), cake and ice cream are the five food groups.
Even still, nothing really happened that I would consider earth shattering on that day, to say the least. The rest of the week passed and he seemed to content to be a three-year old and drumming to the beat that is all his. My parents and my soon-to-be English Doctorate brother came up for the bowels of Metro Washington DC (otherwise known as Southern Maryland) this past weekend. And since they missed his true birthday, we had another party for the boy.
Other than a healthier menu and the absence of a certain Charles Fromage, the day was almost a carbon copy of the 17th.
However, my parents are my parents and they know how to give presents to Brady that is partially more for my benefit than for his. In other words, they gave him some Bat-merch to my first-born. To be specific, a couple article of clothing and a Bat Coloring Book. Really, it's nothing that they haven’t given him before.
Yet, this time something clicked. So, on Sunday, after a casual work, the boy said the six words that I have been waiting to hear for almost the entire time since I knew that he was coming into existence:
“I want to read comic books!” – Brady Schramm, April 23rd, 2006
I’m not sure if it was the fact that he’s now a little kid versus an incredibly fast and mobile toddler. Or that he’s trying to be more of a big boy versus a Yo Baby, Yo Baby, Yo. (You may not get the last joke unless you have kids – I could explain it but as all dad jokes are, they’re guaranteed to be truly stale at first utterance.)
It could even be the sneaky underhanded House of Mouse sneaking subliminal messages during their Clubhouse block at 6 AM. I don’t really care how it happened. All I know is that the boy not only likes the medium that that I’ve long held near and dear for so long but he also want to begin reading them at bedtime. (And when I say read them, I mean that I read them to him).
As par for the course, I was caught somewhat unprepared for this scenario so soon in his maturation. I had a couple comics stored for him but The Batman Strikes digest trades, the Teen Titans Go series, the Avatar cine-manga and about two years worth of Free Comic Book Day titles (content-scanned, of course) all seemed a little too advanced for the boy who wanted to read stories about Mickey, Donald, and Goofy.
But I did not have to look too far to find something to nourish my son’s fertile young mind, which is just coming awake to the world of sequential art. So, after pouring over my endless bookshelf for this first night of bedtime reading, I came across the book that I originally earmarked for his first comic book experience ever since my boy was born (luckily for me, it happened at age three and not at thirteen).
I’m sure that I’ve talked this one to death but Owly is so good that it deserves mentioning once again. Andy Runton has mastered what could only be called as the “silent” comic story. Sure, there are might be a couple of balloons strewn here and there throughout the book. But those are just more like literary road signs on the plot’s journey than actual pieces of dialogue between the characters. Truly, the beauty of this book is its ability to be universal - not only in appeal but also in the fact that anyone who can see the pages can read this book without much trouble.
The best thing about Volume 1 is that is broken down into two stories, “The Way Home” and “The Bittersweet Summer”. And since Owly is not about words but about comic panels, good old Pops had to come up big to play the book’s narrator. In case you’ve never met me in the flesh, I’m really not the best off-script/improv orator in the biz. But as the old man, I had to become a regular Bluth-free Ron Howard to tell the story of Owly’s first meeting with Wormie.
So, about halfway through, I was half expecting that familiar tug on the sleeve, which would have meant the boy had enough and wanted to go back to stories of that curious monkey and his shenanigans. But after the words “The End” came up on the page, I turned to Brady and asked if he wanted to continue. He answered in his outside voice, “Yes, Dada! More!” I couldn’t have been happier to delve further into Owly’s and Wormie’s next tale of friendship.
After finishing the second part, I looked at the clock and told Brady that it was time to go to sleep. He started to object to this news by saying that he wanted to read the next book.
Now, I don’t know if this was a stalling tactic or that he really wanted to read the further adventures but it didn’t matter to me. I’ve done my job as a veteran of all those off-world wars, earth-shattering battles and secret identity issues. I passed on my love of comic books to my son and hopefully, this will be the beginning of a funny, exciting and rewarding time for my boy of three years old. I just hope that he doesn’t learn to read so fast that he starts stealing from me on New Book Wednesday. Then, we’re gonna have more words than Owly and Wormie will ever have in their lifetime.
A Quick PftL Update:
Do you remember last year’s interview with You’ll Have That’s Wes Molebash, which was a result of a lost bet about Michigan State-Ohio State football game? Well, Wes must’ve felt sorry for me and generously drew a sketch of Andy cheering for the old Green and White for me. As a Buckeye fan, it must have been hard not to put an O before the SU in the sketch. Once I get it properly matted and framed, a pic will find its way onto this column; believe that!
So, to return the favor, here’s the cover of his new book that will be out next month.
If you didn’t get a chance to order it, you can pester your local shop owner to make a late order for this book. Or, you can go to that gigantic online retailer that could be named after some sprawling rainforest in South America and drop the cash. No matter how you order it, I’ll guarantee you’ll get a few laughs from it and for around $5 American, you can’t ask for more than that.
Well, that’s it for this week. Don’t worry; I’ll be back before you know it. And if you weren’t worried, you just might be wearing a toe tag. And, don’t forget to keep your bags and boards together and your continuity straight.
Send column-specific e-mail using the link below. If you want to be my virtual friend without any real benefits (unless you are Jessica Alba), just click on Add to Friends at my MySpace page. To read my further adventures, please visit brittschramm.com. Also, check out my views of anything and everything that has to do with Pop Culture at Kung Fu Rodeo.
E-MAIL THE AUTHOR |
ARCHIVES
