When I think back to my early childhood, the first image that comes to mind is my younger brother and I, wide-eyed and giggling under layers of thick blankets on cold winter mornings, reading from massive volumes of your stories. Taking turns reading each strip aloud, we imitated your voices and acted out your adventures in our little cave. It was nothing short of magic.
Do you know, old friends, that you are some of the most influential figures in my life? You shaped me: your tales a chisel and my young mind a stone. To this day images of your antics—your battle against zombie snowmen, your exploration of the Mesozoic era in a cardboard-box time machine—dance around my head. You weave your way into my daily conversations in off-beat references; my friendships in how I approach intimacy and humor; my worldview in how I reconcile laughter with grief, imagination with reality, and identity with belonging.
Speaking practically, you taught me how to appreciate language, whimsy, and wit. You are a six-year-old and a tiger, but your vocabulary and themes mirror the advanced novels I read now. As a growing girl, seeing a character my age use words such as “incendiary” truly ignited (pun intended) my love of language. I would absorb unknown words and later research them so I could better understand their meaning; still, today I have a passion for word games and puzzles. Intellectual curiosity is an inevitable by-product of your world.
More importantly, you revealed how to think critically about the world, to see its problems and search for its solutions, without losing a childlike sense of wonder. I learned how to find the beauty in the simple with the help of a little creativity: a treehouse can become a formidable fortress against cooties, and something as mundane as throwing rocks in a lake can become a whole day’s activity. I learned that the world is imperfect, but not lost––you grapple with death, bullying, and violence, but you never adopt a defeatist tone. I learned that it is natural to disagree with those you are close with, and sometimes a hearty pounce is all you need to set a friend straight. I learned that education does not only take place in the classroom and childhood cannot be confined to four walls; spontaneous adventures can be teachers, too.
I continue to learn from you every time I pick my old comic books off my dorm room shelves. Through your stories, I still see, even in the darkest of times, that the world is a magical place, a place worthy of love, discovery, wonder, and exploration— especially with someone you love by your side.
Yours indebtedly,
Lael Joseph
When I think back to my early childhood, the first image that comes to mind is my younger brother and I, wide-eyed and giggling under layers of thick blankets on cold winter mornings, reading from massive volumes of your stories. Taking turns reading each strip aloud, we imitated your voices and acted out your adventures in our little cave. It was nothing short of magic.
Do you know, old friends, that you are some of the most influential figures in my life? You shaped me: your tales a chisel and my young mind a stone. To this day images of your antics—your battle against zombie snowmen, your exploration of the Mesozoic era in a cardboard-box time machine—dance around my head. You weave your way into my daily conversations in off-beat references; my friendships in how I approach intimacy and humor; my worldview in how I reconcile laughter with grief, imagination with reality, and identity with belonging.
Speaking practically, you taught me how to appreciate language, whimsy, and wit. You are a six-year-old and a tiger, but your vocabulary and themes mirror the advanced novels I read now. As a growing girl, seeing a character my age use words such as “incendiary” truly ignited (pun intended) my love of language. I would absorb unknown words and later research them so I could better understand their meaning; still, today I have a passion for word games and puzzles. Intellectual curiosity is an inevitable by-product of your world.
More importantly, you revealed how to think critically about the world, to see its problems and search for its solutions, without losing a childlike sense of wonder. I learned how to find the beauty in the simple with the help of a little creativity: a treehouse can become a formidable fortress against cooties, and something as mundane as throwing rocks in a lake can become a whole day’s activity. I learned that the world is imperfect, but not lost––you grapple with death, bullying, and violence, but you never adopt a defeatist tone. I learned that it is natural to disagree with those you are close with, and sometimes a hearty pounce is all you need to set a friend straight. I learned that education does not only take place in the classroom and childhood cannot be confined to four walls; spontaneous adventures can be teachers, too.
I continue to learn from you every time I pick my old comic books off my dorm room shelves. Through your stories, I still see, even in the darkest of times, that the world is a magical place, a place worthy of love, discovery, wonder, and exploration— especially with someone you love by your side.
Yours indebtedly,
Lael Joseph
