Open Writing

She pegged our relationship early on as a stone-tied-to-a-balloon arrangement, with one of us well-grounded in the realities of life and keeping the more flighty other from flying wildly into the unknown. And she wisely admitted that her gasbag occasionally lifted her mineral self to unexpected places.

I was a college senior, it was St. Patrick’s Day and my 21st birthday when I lured her, a junior, on our first date. The following August we were wed, thereby saving several thousand dollars on our student loans by living in married student housing. Our school provided a great education but wasn’t cheap, and we were footing the bill. Genteel poverty was the rule, but books and reading were somehow always affordable.

My third birthday in her company found us in grad school in Washington, D.C., where our penury reached new lows. Yet, the woman who read and appreciated Russian literature on several levels scrounged $20 from our budget for my birthday, knowing I’d blow it on Donald Duck comic books. I’d discovered in early adulthood that re-reading old duck comics recalled whole forgotten days of childhood when I’d first read them, so that’s where $15 went. That took a while, and she was the very image of patience, a sight I’ve often witnessed since. The remaining fiver went for nasty burgers at a Roy Rogers chain, a meal still glowing in memory as the happiest of feasts.

The world of graphic literature was one unexpected place I led her. She already possessed appreciation for children’s picture books, and being a reading specialist, she soon saw the merit and pleasure of well-rendered comics, like Krazy Cat and Calvin and Hobbes. In the right hands, combining art and text provides a different literary experience, like hearing a book differs from reading it. Listening to a good reader narrate classic literature often makes it more accessible to modern ears, and seeing part of a story in picture form often helps unskilled readers become interested in books. That’s why our library owns strong, well-used audio books and graphic literature collections.

Another long-time favorite is Hal Foster’s “Prince Valiant.” I first encountered Val in college and continued reading his exploits until Foster retired. However, it took being laid up with a bum knee and having the library’s copy of Brian Kane’s “Hal Foster: Prince of Illustrators,” nearby before I appreciated his immense artistic and writing skills, and his well-led life.

Foster was an outdoorsman and 6th-grade dropout who educated himself at Winnipeg Carnegie Public Library to become eligible for clerical jobs while parlaying his backwoods canoe knowledge into guiding prohibition smugglers, thereby paid for art school. Foster longed to be a well-paid illustrator, like his heroes, Maxfield Parrish, Howard Pyle, and Arthur Rackham, and he was on his way up that ladder when the Great Depression struck. Jobs were scarce, but Foster had met “a neat blonde” in springtime, and married her the following August, much like another couple I know. Hurting for money, he lowered himself professionally and agreed to illustrate the Sunday Tarzan comic strip. It became a national hit, and led to Foster’s Prince Valiant.

Foster was immensely likeable, and his biography is a delightful, feel-good read. For example, it includes a vignette about his son, Arthur, nicknamed “Arf,” who was fighting in Europe in WWII when he received a “Dear John” letter from his wife. Arf returned to the U.S. devastated, and for years no one knew his whereabouts. Knowing his son always read Prince Valiant, Foster inserted into his January 1, 1950 strip a character crying out to a young man, “Arf, Arf, my boy, that awful woman is gone. You are free to come home.” Arf did finally go home and settled into a long career in art education.

Foster’s neat blonde was definitely the solid one in their relationship, and, like my mate, the strength behind their loving home. The Foster’s union lasted sixty-seven years. That’s another 348 months before Clare and I catch up – not nearly long enough to satisfy this balloon.