SNOOPY'S FATHER My Pencil Pal

Copyright 8/04/2011

Call me naïve – I am, or at least I was. I believed in letter writing. There wasn't an important name that didn't receive a letter from me. Seldom did I put my pencil or pen to paper to write a famous star because we were told that they didn't answer their own fan mail. Who wants a secondhand response? I did write the Lone Ranger and Tonto once, but all I got was a lousy picture. I wanted to hear voice, not see celluloid.

My targets were usually politicians, and when they'd write back I'd catch God's wrath for disturbing Washington with my useless input. Still I remained undaunted.

And then it happened! The WWI Flying Ace, Joe Cool, The Great Pumpkin! Lucy and Sally's repulsion of dogs! When Snoopy became the tenacious pursuer of the evil Red Baron, time stopped with each continuing saga. What would Snoopy do if the Red Baron gets on his tail? What will be the punchline?

But my all-time favorite was Joe Cool. Joe Cool was the embodiment of what I expected in my approaching college years. It wasn't my desire not to go to college in the first place, but if I had to serve my time on a campus I wanted to emulate Joe Cool, tossing his Frisbee and rappin' with his compatriots. http://hubpages.com/hub/BUT-I-DONT-WANT-TO-GO-TO-COLLEGE

It was too much temptation not to write Charles M. Schulz to let him know how much he made me laugh, and how on his characters behalves I was organizing various fan clubs.

Anything I could do to distract the agenda of my junior and high school classes I would do; whether it was signing petitions, or adding members to my local Great Pumpkin and Snoopy Fan Clubs, or giving extemporaneous rants about social injustices, I was there leading the parade of distractions.

Initially when I wrote Charles Schulz I didn't expect a response. I sent my letter to our Syracuse Herald Journal, where his cartoon appeared daily, and then of course in the Sunday Funnies. When he wrote back I just about fell over. The hand that drew Joe Cool wrote back! I was Heaven. (My parents were thrill; at least the stationary wasn't embossed from Washington, D.C. - See Italians were deported regularly so my parents lived by the don't make waves doctrine. Obviously I wasn't of their same cloth. I was Snoopy in human form.)

Celebrative joy was short lived when my mother demanded that I compose a tender, respectful thank you note.

“You shouldn't be bothering a busy man like Charles Schulz with your nonsense!”

“He didn't sound mad in his letter.”

“He was just being pleasant. You stop your clowning! And I want to see the thank you note before it goes out!”

“But he's not uptight like you. He's cool. He'll dig my note. He understands. He's Snoopy's father!”

“And stop using that hippie language. Speak American! Now go write the note!”

I did, because like every kid back in the day, I feared my parents more than Satan.

Had my mother known Mr. Schulz and I would become pencil pals from that thank you note I don't think she would've been so adamant in her demands.

I never kept any of my D.C. letters, including my Robert F. Kennedy letter that was hand written – true. Bobby was boss. But I managed to protect and defend my pencil pal letters because Charles M. Schulz wasn't just a cartoonist, he was a famous guy that wrote back, and he was Snoopy's father.

Peace Baby

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LET GO & FREE FALL INTO NEW BEGINNINGS