Funny Papers

Another memory of Lafayette is that of sitting on the sofa with my Dad on Sunday morning

reading the "Funny Pages." Sunday's "Funny Pages" were special. They took up a least

four full pages and were in color! Each panel was about three times as big as each panel in

the daily black and white comic strips.

We had a ritual before the reading of the comics. Dad would fill his pipe and tamp down the

tobacco. After that, he would light up, taking at least three or four puffs to accomplish the job.

He'd say, "Bring the pages you want to read." I don't know why he did this every week, because

every week I brought him all the funny pages. I even wanted him to read "Prince Valiant."

Daddy couldn't believe a kid like me would actually want to read "Prince Valiant." I didn't pay much attention to the words. Each week, Valiant was always off fighting the evil-doers, while his beautiful wife stayed at the castle and took care of baby Valiant. I mainly looked at the

intricate drawings and beautiful colors.

"Prince Valiant" was only in the Sunday papers, as was several of the other top notch funnies.

"Blondie" was in the paper every day with the distinction of being at the top of the page of

the funnies. "Blondie" was also the lead-off comic in the Sunday paper. It was on the first page

of the section and was above the fold. Every Sunday, the strips had more panels and gave me

that much more to laugh at. Dagwood was always late running out the door to avoid being

late for work. He inevitably ran into the mailman and they both spilled the contents in their

arms: letters, coffee cups, lunch bags, to name a few. Mr. Dithers and his wife, Cora, made

an appearance every so often. And the kids, Cookie and Alexander, were usually on the phone

or grabbing some thing from the ice box. Dagwood some times made a foot-high sandwich

with onions, cold cuts, tomatoes and pickles stacked on a tiny plate.

I could tell if my Dad was enjoying himself by the times he laughed so hard that he wheezed

and coughed. When he laughed, I did too, matching his hearty mannerisms. Sometimes I had

no idea what I was laughing at. I just followed my Dad's cue and threw my head back and

laughed until tears came to my eyes.

My Dad also had a habit of pointing to each panel with the stem of his pipe. I think he did

that so I would know what words belonged to which panel. I thought this was cool, and

often imitated those gestures when I was "reading" on my own. I didn't have a pipe so I just

used my pointing finger giving it a bounce as I went from panel to panel, making up

stories as I went along.

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