#103 Struggles And Support: UPDATE
Publishing early today. It's been quite a week. Probably for you too.
I've spent 11 weeks being a trooper and trying to focus on the positive.
It's not working too well.
I'm not sure where I'm going from here.
But I promised in November* not to repeat my dynamic from the first term.
From 2016 to 2020 I was trying to follow the model of syndicated comics - that thing where you create an alternate universe for your characters and readers to live in. And to populate that reality with mostly jokes.
But my work isn't really about jokes.
Nor is it about an alternate reality.
It's much more personal than that. I try to make the primary focus humor because I believe in the power of humor to lift us up. But this work is broader than a single lane. It's often about the bigger picture and the struggles we all face and the need for a cocktail of emotional touch points: humor, inspiration, struggle, universal questions and answers.
The subhead of my Substack is “Sometimes funny. Sometimes inspirational. Always true.” Today is less about being funny or inspiring and more about being truthful.
One of my truths is that I'm not so much in a panic as I am really really mad.
Most of the time.
No matter how much I try to put my fingers in my ears and sing a little distracting tune for myself.
Back in 2018 I did a lot of this:
It's impossible to bury my head in the sand this time.
I can't ignore him because, not only does he make himself impossible to ignore on purpose, he’s doing so many terrible things every day that are having real time consequences for thousands of people.
As the economy crashes and thousands of folks are watching their retirement plans go down the sh$&;@er, while thousands more are pitched into the unemployment line, while it’s no longer about the higher price of eggs but the higher price of EVERYTHING, the party line is: “Relax, this is all part of the plan. Things have to get worse before they get better. The pain is necessary and will be temporary.”
Blah blah blah blah.
I'm not buying it.
As a student of history, I know that, after the rise of communism in Russia, things got pretty bad for almost everyone. Everyone except the lucky few at the top of the show.
And a funny aspect of Marxism was that there wasn't supposed to be a “top” per se. Rather than the usual societal pyramid, with a small number of rich and powerful perched above the poor sods at the base, communism was sold to the average Russian Joe as more of a long low rectangle with everyone sharing and sharing alike. As the truth began to dawn on the populace that the good old pyramid was still firmly in place, they were told not to worry - that “These things take time, be patient, the glorious egalitarian future is on the way.” When that argument grew stale they pivoted to the message that communism wasn't working properly because too much of the rest of the world was still in the thrall of capitalism. It was messing up the Marxist algorithm. The best way to get that rosy “share and share alike” that was promised was to make sure communism took hold everywhere in the world. It took several decades for the people stuck in the USSR and elsewhere to figure out that the whole thing had been a boondoggle and they'd been conned.
I don’t know about you but I don't have 50-70 years left to wait until millions of Americans finally admit this man who specialized in horse hockey when he was at the height of his faculties is now completely off his rocker. And that the glorious future is not coming anytime soon.
I want them to wake up NOW.
To swallow their pride, put on their big girl/boy pants and join the opposition to this man, his destructive actions and the agenda of his billionaire crackpot friends.
I’m not just spouting off today or trying to alienate people.
Really, I’m not.
I'm hoping putting my feelings out there will somehow trigger a release and allow me to step back from anger and depression and refocus on absurdity. Because it was tapping into the absurd that started me on this journey 10 years ago.
Genesis: For Richard
“Beethoven” by Richard Thompson. Apologies to my readers who already know this story.
Another truth is that I didn't create these little exchanges of mine with a higher power for a big audience.
I created them for one person.
A person who was battling a devastating illness and for whom most days had become pretty bleak.
That person was cartoonist Richard Thompson.
I didn't know if he had any faith tradition at all and I didn't know if he was angry about being saddled with an aggressive form of Parkinson's
What I did know was that he had a biting wit and a dark sense of humor.
Look at Richard again.
Doesn’t he look sweet?
And polite?
And maybe even a little meek?
Don’t you believe it.
Behind that placid, slightly owl-like façade beat the heart of one of the most wickedly sarcastic and insightful satirists I ever met.
Here is piece wherein perhaps you get a little of that vibe:
By the time he and I became friends I had read a good deal of Richard's comic work, as well as his prose, and so was prepared when he turned out to have just as deep a sense of irony and satire in real life.
He was never the sort of person who dominated a room. He didn’t ask for attention or tell hilarious stories. No, he was the kind of person who sat quietly in the corner and, when your story was finished, he punctuated it with a perfect, quiet, insightful comment. Which was funnier, and usually a little more daring, than anything anyone else had said for at least an hour.
So, when Richard received a diagnosis of Parkinson’s at the height of his career, his public demeanor was dignified and accepting. Even self effacing, as he was wont to be. But you just knew that underneath the surface a million conflicting things were going on.
After his diagnosis I found myself doing what most of us do when someone in our life is facing a debilitating or terminal illness.
I became an idiot.
By which I mean that, more and more of the time, I said idiotic things to Richard.
They were, of course, well intentioned. But idiotic all the same.
Phrases like: “I hope you are doing well!” “We’re thinking of you today” “Hope the treatments are going well!”
Perhaps if we had lived closer to one another and were actually in the same room, instead of communicating via email, I would have had more substantive conversation to offer. I’d like to hope so.
The point is that there came a time where I had stopped emailing at all because I could not bear to write one more silly platitude.
Then, whilst driving on a very long road trip (it’s amazing how much creative thinking you can do when driving 15 hour stretches) I started to think about finding some way I could communicate with Richard on a different level.
As mentioned above, I didn’t know what Richard’s faith life looked like, or if he even had one, but, if the side of him I’d seen through his humor was anything to go by, he seemed like the sort of person who had a few choice things to say to the almighty. (I myself have an extremely complicated relationship with religion and faith, which I might get into some time, but not today.)
So I hatched a plan.
I decided to write up short tweet like conversations between myself and “God” and send one to Richard every morning in hopes of giving at least a small humorous bump to his day. (I did NOT send him drawings with these little witicisms. I can think of nothing more audacious than trying to send funny drawings to a cartoonist.)
I didn't ask if he wanted them.
I just did it.
There were a couple of other cartoonists in the know about this thing I was doing and it was on their urging that I started adding illustrations and entertaining the thought of taking things public.
But I started this work for Richard.
And sometimes I think I lose sight of the spirit of what I was trying to do for him – not to send jokes as much as to send humor based on our shared frustrations and foibles.
I feel the need to continue it in a way he would appreciate.
In a way the man who created this would appreciate.
I can’t even begin to imagine the work Richard would be creating right now if we were still lucky enough to have him.
So, moving forward, there may be more sarcasm (and politics) and less cheerfulness.
I realize I'm taking a risk.
But my first work came from my heart:
And from the heart is how I need to carry on.
Funny or not.
Copyright© 2025 Anne Morse Hambrock All rights reserved.
*If you missed my initial post after the election - Struggles And Support - you can read it by clicking here.
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I appreciate the feedback and knowing how often I have struck a chord with your lives.
It's been quite a week for me, too. Along with the state of the country and the world, I'm also worrying about repairs to my house after some minor flooding -- bathrooms and nearby closets. Workmen come and go without my knowing when or what time. If I'm walking out the door to go shopping and they are driving into my driveway, I have to postpone my shopping. If I say don't come because I have an appointment, they drive up just as I am leaving.
And with the bathrooms and closets cleared, I can't find anything, and when I do and it's under other stuff, so I move that stuff and then can't find where I moved it to.
And I've got a breast biopsy scheduled.
Your posts are always such a comfort, either a laugh or the realization that I'm not alone. You speak to me and about me.