Some sort of stomach bug precluded me from doing a drawing yesterday, but it did afford me the chance to reflect on illnesses past.
I was sick a lot as a child. (I am ill a lot as an adult, too, but that’s a different story for a different day.) The common cold, ear infections, stomach bugs (often accompanied by copious vomiting), severe headaches, you name it, I had it. In sixth grade, I was absent from school for a whole month, thanks to a bad case of walking pneumonia.
When I was sick, whatever other remedies were offered, a standard part of my course of treatment was Campbell’s Chicken and Stars soup, eaten out of my much-loved Snoopy bowl. That, and a good book (or several good books), helped me get through each malady du jour.
Because chicken soup and stars and cartoons and books have magic healing properties.
This is my theory and I am sticking to it.
I do stick to it, in fact; I don’t actually use the Snoopy bowl these days, because it qualifies as an antique, as do I.
But stars and cartoons and books: absolutely. Still. Always.
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