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The old house in the wood's was a wreck.It was condemned-it was unfit for human habitation.People shook thier head's and went,"Tch-so sad children have to live like that".It was confusing to me-I didn't give a fuck-I was 5.It was actually being used to store old junk in when we moved in.It had racoon's,which I fed cherry tomatoes to so they would leave my room.The collection of comic's upstair's in the attic was enough for me.The copies of The Masses really intrigued me.The art was alot better than MAD,and they had woodcut's in them,and political comic's which I became obsessed with.I had to figure out what they meant-even at that age,the relevance and symbolism amazed me.My relatives told me that they were left over from my great grandmother,from back in the 30's,and that she was a communist.They said her family fled Europe before WW2,and moved down to Jamaica.There they made money importing sugar,and moved up to New York City,eventually.From there,they expanded to the Catskill's,where they built the Post Office there.But then they said during the red scare it was taken away from them-they had to sell it,since they found out she was literally a card carrying communist-a member of the party.I was amazed at this story.They even pointed out the character in Pogo that was based on Senator McCarthy,and various other Pogo charachter's in that comic that represented various political figures.I remember thinking how amazing it must be to be a cartoonist-to create these poignant fantasy world's based on reality.I had to learn how this was done,no matter what it took!I vowed to spend my life devoting my heart and soul to cartoon's.Well,by spring,we were discovered by my dad.He figured out where my mom had run off to-and he showed up and demanded to see us kid's.He was way pissed we had been living in the hill's with a bunch of dope smoking freak's-This being 1970,people were alway's stopping by to see my mom-folk musician's entertaining us with Woody Guthrie song's,biker's,wierd cool people.Like I said,we didn't have power,so it was a treat to hear music.Well my fucking dad was pissed-he got in a big fight with my grandfather,who wasn't to happy about us living there either.He pulled a gun on him.Later on,dad came to see us occasionaly,and when he found out about the shit mom was letting me read,he went crazy.He couldn't do anything about it though.His solution was to try to get me interested in other comic's.He bought me book's on cartooning,and Spirit comic's.He tried to imbed in me the importance of layout,and technical training,if I wanted to learn cartooning-putting down underground comic's,and pointing out specific reason's that they sucked,and explaining why it was criminal for me to read them,and why my mom was rotten for letting me read such perverted trash.I guess that just goes to show you the power of the printed word,for real.Those comic's and mag's were all I had to lose myself in,and I appreciated it.

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