I’m not saying that I didn’t love my parents. It’s just their method of raising us 4 kids was kind of… shall we say unconventional? Both were single children, and both had a lot of baggage.
Grandma was a bit of a nutcase, and my mom had inherited her parent’s mental disposition. Her love was conditional, her motives egocentric. She knew how to change any conversation to center around herself. Her apologies were rare and always went along the lines of “I’m sorry, but if YOU hadn’t…”
Dad came from a little better stock, but not much. Grandma was a God-fearing lady, grandpa a hard-living war veteran and an alcoholic. Dad loved guns, porn, and white supremacy.
My folks had no business raising a kid, let alone raise a houseful of them. They constantly moved us to new towns, new houses, new schools, and new jobs, always running from something and running to the illusion of something better.
Amazingly, they had us in church every Sunday, the picture of a perfect Christian family. Did anyone know the real family behind the picture? The parents that fought all the way to and from church? Who were verbally and physically abusive to each other? Who justified their lying and stealing with “Well, God owes this to me”? The young children who were often left to their own devices to raise themselves?
For some reason, along with Playboy and Penthouse, my dad would often buy himself comic books. He loved Spiderman, Swamp Thing and, strangely enough, Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge. I had a love of the printed word, and would read anything I could get my hands on. Yeah, I scanned his porn magazines for the cartoons -most of which I didn’t understand (praise God for that). I delved into Spiderman and Swamp Thing for their plots and artwork. But, the duck stories: they were in a class by themselves.
Although I didn’t even know his name at the time, the tales laid out by Carl Bark (aka The Duck Man) had a profound impact on my life. The Donald presented in the Bark’s stories was not the vengeful hot-headed bird from the Disney cartoons. This duck was a rational, caring, responsible adult paired with his eccentric fabulously wealthy uncle on adventures that spanned the globe. Their nephews Huey, Dewey and Louie were smart obedient youths fully dedicated to their elders and providing invaluable help and knowledge in their time of need. They were an ideal family.
How I so wished my family was like that duck family: dedicated to one another, loving, supportive, persevering together through tough times, celebrating together over the victories, consistently doing the right thing, faithfully staying honest no matter what the situation.
Please don’t misunderstand me: the duck clan didn’t take the place of my bible and learning about Jesus, but those little ducks certainly helped clarify in my young mind what love and family could look like. I don’t even know if Carl Barks was a Christian, but I do know he carefully laid out moral values in the stories he penned and illustrated. That little cartoon family defined my plume line as I was growing up. The values they helped instill were my litmus test in life.
Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go. Even when he is old, he will not depart from it.”
Yeah, comic books helped train me to be the Christian I am today.
And if you think I walk like a duck, I’m OK with that.
The Reluctant Firefly 