Legacy Writing 365:251

Whenever I used to visit my parents’ house during holidays, or even just hang out there for a few hours, sooner or later I’d always go to the bookshelf where the Doonesbury books were. I’m sure my brother probably did the same, and maybe my nephew Daniel, too. My mother bought the larger editions, which I couldn’t afford, but I frequently found the smaller books used and snapped them up.

I still have them with my other humor books in the guest room. Doonesbury characters have always felt like my real friends through the years, and much the way I relish seeing politics through Jon Stewart’s humor now, I’ve long depended on Gary Trudeau to make me laugh and shake my head over the fascinating animal that is politics, as well as that other animal, pop culture. I don’t buy the books anymore, because I can read Doonesbury online–though I’ve missed entire years of strips. Tom frequently sends me links to ones he knows I’ll love.

As for my mother’s books, they were rehomed in Tim’s apartment. So I can still go over, pull one from the shelf, and think back to all those enjoyable hours of curling up on one of my parents’ comfy chairs to read and then telling Mother which particular stories were making me laugh the most.

It’s fun to be an unapologetic liberal who can laugh at the vagaries of politics, no matter what the viewpoint.

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