With Age Comes Horror

Monday, March 05, 2007

This past week, instead of doing things such as "work" and "learning" in chemistry, we had this conversation regarding nostalgia. It's no secret that most of the shows and books we loved as kids actually sucked (except Transformers. Man, that was awesome). They stick into our minds as something very special to us, though, until we actually go back and watch them again. You all know exactly what I'm talking about, so there's really no need to give any examples, as this isn't really the point.

I was recently inspired by a friend to reread some Calvin and Hobbes, so I sampled a bit of my massive collection. Back in the day, when I first gave it a read, it was playfully hilarious and quite amusing to me. Bill Watterson's art and the wanton attitude of Calvin as a whole never ceased to bring me smiles and sunshine. I never knew, though, that Watterson really had something to say.

My reading yielded things that my puny little sixth grade mind couldn't even begin to fathom. Watterson inserted social commentary and philosophical quandary into his comic, so much so that it almost scared me to think that I could have read it all several times years ago and never even gave it a thought. What I found was not the lighthearted romp of yore but a stunning satire, a perfectly placed societal snub.

I am not denying Watterson's credibility as an artist. His comic is still the best around and it actually says more about him that he can write for young and old alike and still keep things fresh and funny. My point is, though, is that it is not the same. I tried simply to take a trip to the past, to simpler times when life was without burden, adults held my hand every step of the way, and mathematics as a concept was easy and perfectly understandable. I wanted some sort of escape from responsibility, age, and what my teacher calls "math class." I instead found the stunning realization that change is altogether universal and unavoidable. Like it or not, my entire perception of everything had been altered by increased age, experience, intelligence, and wisdom. My past, though inarguably part of who and where I am today, is gone, locked in the archives of myself, never to be visited.

On the other hand, though, as a student who takes great interest in sociology, Calvin and Hobbes is fantastic. Like the poems of Stephen Crane (one of few poets I respect), these strips say so much in so little. The messages are subtle and easily missed, but they are there when read in such a fashion. I wasn't disappointed to find this as much as I was surprised, but I'm not certain yet if the surprise was pleasant. My current explication of Watterson's classic has led me to the discovery that I have been steadily engraved with ardent cynicism over the years, and I can only wonder where my newfound satirical outlook has struck between these two occurrences. If a lesson can be learned from this, it has got to be this: take great care when trying to revisit the past.