I have no memory of my life without Snoopy or the Peanuts Gang. For Christmas in 1968, my parents gave me a Snoopy doll that I slept with longer than I hated to admit. I remember deciding that I was too old for the doll and placed it on top of the wardrobe my father constructed for my room. But like Linus and his blue blanket, one night I woke up from a nightmare and immediately retrieved my doll from the wardrobe. About the time I was 35 years old, I found Snoopy in a box at my parents’ house. Disappointment overcame me as he was filthy; “rigor” had set in. Suddenly, I found myself traveling my childhood road as my mother took the doll from me and said, “I’ll fix him.” And she did. With her sister by her side, they used Snoopy as a pattern and cloned four copies of him, one for me and one for each of my children (a piece of the original Snoopy was placed inside each clone).
For Christmas in 1972 Santa put an Avon Snoopy mug in my stocking, and I cannot count the number of times I drank Spice Tea from that cup. The next year I found the Fire-King, “Life Is Pure Joy” mug, in my stocking, and each subsequent year I anticipated finding the newest Snoopy mug in my stocking. Today, I have well over 90 mugs and cups which I proudly display in my man-cave.
Along with the mugs strategically place, I’ve collected multiple wall hangings. Some include a classic plaster World War I Flying Ace I piloting his Sopwith Camel, purchased at the 1975 Portland, Oregon Columbia Christian Schools Holiday Fair (that I still have it over 40 years later is quite an accomplishment). A tole painting of Snoopy dancing with the slogan, “Happiness is February 14,” was painted by my mother made for me on my 11th birthday. And then a cross stitched picture of Snoopy and Woodstock with the message, “A Friend Is Someone Who’ll Go Running With You At Six In The Morning,” given to me by my wife while we were dating and I was running track and cross country for Harding University (morning runs were common). Cross-stitched shirts, collectable stamps, coloring pictures, patches, phones . . . the list of Peanuts Gang memorabilia is almost embarrassingly endless.
I own and have read the entire Peanuts Collection published by Fantagraphics Books. As a child, I collected multiple Peanuts books and read them more than my school assigned books. When I was in college, dad cut out Peanuts from the daily strip and mailed them to me on a weekly basis. Since I often checked my mailbox on the way to lunch, I read the strips while I ate in the cafeteria. With students around me, I was immediately the most popular kid – my own five minutes of weekly fame. I shared the strips with those with me. And somewhere, lost in the universe, is a picture of the Peanuts Gang autographed by “Snoopy” when I wrote him a letter.
What made Charles M. Schulz and Peanuts so successful? Fifty years of meticulous drawings and punchlines certainly wear on a person (not counting overseeing TV specials and movies). I have no answers, nor will I attempt to be Lucy and invent answers which will just make me sound ridiculous. Who doesn’t connect with Charlie Brown’s failure in life, but always optimistic enough to throw another pitch, fly another kite, or entertain the thought of introducing himself to the Pretty Little Red-Haired Girl? Who doesn’t identify with the insecurities of Linus and his need for a blue security blanket? Who hasn’t encountered a bully like Lucy, or in some cases been the bully like Lucy? And if you’ve ever owned a dog, surely every now and then you could see Snoopy emerge somewhere in their actions. And yes, and in my life, I’ve felt many times the pain in the stomach as “I feel like I’m standing in the middle of the Roman Coliseum.” They were simple children, but struggled with complicated, adult-like, issues and character flaws. Through their own imperfections, we fell in love with them.
In my reading about Mr. Schulz, two things emerged which have touched me deeply. First, he was a very unassuming and humble man. He enjoyed life out of the spotlight, and tried to make sure others felt like they were more important than he, which sounds a lot like Philippians 2:3. Secondly, for many years he taught a Bible class at the Methodist Church where he was a member. No one could doubt that one of the wells Schulz drew from was the Bible, and he drew from that well more times than one should forgive each other (see Mt. 18:21-22), but as it turned out the Bible was far more than just fodder for a punchline. He was a man of faith.
I will not assume that Mr. Schultz would readily endorse any of my thoughts or how I interpret the Peanuts Gang. Had he read any of these stories, he may have been gracious enough to me to say something kind, but I have no intention of allowing this work to speak for him, nor do I believe in any way that my thoughts ever crossed his mind. He often inserted references to Bill Mauldin, the World War II artist, in an attempt to honor him for his work. What I offer is in that same vein. I’m merging my own thoughts from the biblical narrative with my insight into the Peanuts Gang. Both have had a tremendous impact in my own life. Maybe all of this is simply an act of futility, but if you find encouragement from my endeavors, then I’ve succeeded.
The title of these posts is a parody of Mark 1:3’s reference to John the Baptist when he quotes Isaiah 40:3. While John was in the desert calling people to repentance and was the first to point them to Jesus, we find Linus convincing Sally (and others) to sit with him in the pumpkin patch to await the Great Pumpkin. For those of us awaiting Jesus’ return, we still find ourselves sitting in the pumpkin patch of life hoping beyond hope for his return.
Finally, I normally end my writings with “soli deo gloria!” which is Latin for “Glory only to God!” (loosely translated). However, for these writings, I’ve chosen “bonum dolor!” which is Latin for “Good Grief!” If you’ve just smiled at that statement, then you’ll probably enjoy the pages you’ll be reading.
bonum dolor!
(i.e., Good Grief!)