Life 101, by John Ostrander
My Aunt Helen turned 101 years old last weekend. Let me repeat that – my Aunt Helen is 101 years old. She beat her own father’s record, who died a mere six months after turning 100. She still lives in her own apartment, with help especially from my sister, Marge. Helen gave up smoking only a few years ago but she still has her drink now and then. She gets to church when she feels the urge. Big Cubs fan, even though they haven’t won a World Series since she was born. I kid Helen that she intends to hang on until they win another one if it takes another hundred years.
She’s so old she dated John McCain. Ba-dump bump. I think she’d like that gag. Aunt Helen is still pretty sharp. Me, I’m not so sure about.
She lived in the house next to ours in Chicago’s Rogers Park neighborhood when I was growing up, along with my paternal grandmother and grandfather. When Pop-Pop had bought the property, Rogers Park was actually a suburb on Chicago’s North Side. Me, my brother, and my younger sister ran over there with some frequency because there we were little princes or princess – which we sure weren’t at home. Lord knows we took advantage of it. Well, I know I did.
Saturday night we’d have dinner there in front of the TV. Helen always served up the same meal: a bit of steak, Campbell’s Pork and Beans, and for dessert, ice cream cake roll swimming in chocolate syrup.
Let me take a moment to extol on the glories of the ice cream cake roll. The principle was the same as a jelly roll cake only the cake would be a deep chocolate and would use vanilla ice-cream instead of jelly. It’s impossible to find on the East Coast. Even in Chicago, the quality has gone down. The last one I had, the cake was stale, thin, and had freezer burn, as did the very artificial vanilla ice cream that was in it. I’ve wandered off the topic again but… dang! It was ice cream cake roll!
I think I remember some of the shows I used to watch during those Saturday night dinners such as Patrick McGoohan in Danger Man (which would later become Secret Agent) and Peter Lawford and Phyllis Kirk playing Nick and Nora Charles in a TV version of The Thin Man. After dinner we’d watch The Jackie Gleason Show that included the Miami Beach version of The Honeymooners. If we were lucky, we escaped before The Lawrence Welk Show came on.
Helen used to take us on little outings as well. At least once a season, we’d go to Wrigley Field to watch the Cubs play. I was born on the North Side of Chicago so being a Cubs fan wasn’t really an option, but the trips to the ballpark certainly cemented it. Yes, we’d get all the food that you usually stuff a child with at a ballpark and then hope they don’t throw it back up on the trip home. However, we also got scorecards and Helen showed us how to fill it in and keep a boxscore. I dutifully tried to do it her way but I eventually made up my own system that made more sense to me. It didn’t matter; this was watching baseball in the sunlight and the fresh air, amidst the friendly ivy covered confines of Wrigley Field as the Cubs lost. The way God meant baseball to be.
I remember another outing, just Helen, my brother Joe, and me. Joe and I were real young at the time – maybe six or seven. We went out by bus to one of the northern suburbs, I forget which one, and we were taken to a luncheonette called The Choo Choo Inn. We sat at the counter, ordered burgers and cokes, and when our order was ready, it came over on a model train whose track was set just inside the counter. The plates were on little flatbed cars. We took our order off and then the train went on. That was magic.
Helen never married. Her sister, Dor, came down with a wasting disease (I think it was MS but I could be wrong) and Helen would come home after work to help nurse her. Dor died at a relatively young age and after that Helen took care of her parents in their later years. However, it wasn’t simply duty that led Helen to this choice. She had beaus and she knew how to have a good time. The choice she made was her choice.
Even into her Nineties, she was known as our family “party girl,” getting up at weddings to do the hokey-pokey. The last time nearly killed her – literally – and it was decided among the family that we wouldn’t do that again. Her 100th birthday was well-attended, lively, and Helen was surrounded by family and friends. Nephews and nieces had children who in turn have had children. She’s Aunt Helen to them all.
I’m struck, again and again, by how much history has occurred in her lifetime. Theodore Roosevelt was President the year that she was born. In the same year, Picasso began his work in cubism and the Model T first rolled off the assembly line. The British Empire at that time covered one-fifth of the planet’s land mass, a massive empire on whom the sun would never set. The Wright Brothers had flown only five years before.
Helen was six when World War 1 began; she was nine when America entered it and when Russia had its revolution that would lead to the USSR. She was 12 when women received the vote and when prohibition started. The stock market fell and the Depression started shortly after she became 21.
She worked all her life for one company, Montgomery Wards. That’s hard to imagine these days, isn’t it? One employer for all of your working career. When Social Security began in 1935, she would have been among the first paying into it.
I’ll try not to belabor the point about history, but there are some items worth noting. She has lived through not only World War 1 but World War 2, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq 1 and now Iraq 2. Weapons have advanced from poison gas to the introduction of the atomic bomb, on to the hydrogen bomb, and now the use of terrorist bombs and, once again, deadly gas and germ warfare. That’s one lifetime, folks.
Flight was in its infancy when she was in her infancy. It rapidly developed through the warplanes of the First World War and on to the landing of humans on the Moon and now, the discovery of ice on Mars. That’s one lifetime, folks.
America was struggling to find its place among the greatest nations when Helen first came into the world. Theodore Roosevelt was a blatant Imperialist, eager to build an American Empire. However, the leaders of the Great Nations barely gave a nod to Woodrow Wilson during the Treaty of Versailles that would end the First World War and lay down the seeds for the Second. America became isolationist until drawn into the Second World War and afterwards became a superpower, eventually becoming the only Superpower, and now we stand at the brink of becoming… something less. That’s one lifetime, folks.
She was born during the Suffragette Movement and has lived through the Feminist Movement and the Post Feminist Movements. The NAACP would be founded the year after Helen was born; the first African American person I ever met was Bessie who cleaned the house Helen lived in. Rights would be abused and denied to blacks, to women, to gays but things do change. 2008 is not 1908. Progress can be found within one long lifespan.
I make my living from comics, a field that didn’t exist until Aunt Helen was 26 (the year was 1934 and the book was Famous Funnies). When Superman came on the scene, Helen was 30. Admittedly, she was never Superman’s target audience. On the other hand, there are plenty of women, right here right now, at ComicMix that do read comics including Superman. Some, such as my friend Gail Simone, write them and others, like Jan Duursema, my partner on Star Wars Legacy, even draw them! Times change indeed.
Yet, when I’ve asked Aunt Helen what she remembers of some of those past times, she usually shrugs it off unless pertinent to her world. That was the past and she lives very much in the present. She lived through those times and, to an extent, they are part of her but she cannot be defined solely by them.
However, using her lifespan as a prism gives me a sense of context. History is not just what is past; it is the framework for the present. It is not distant because it is part of one living person’s (admittedly long) lifespan. All history is current.
Among my family, we refer to Aunt Helen as our ‘Golden Oldie” – the last of a trio that included my mother and my Aunt Marge. Among my siblings and myself is the realization that, when Helen inevitably dies, we will become the “golden oldies” to the next generation, a designation to which none of us are particularly aspiring, thank you very much. Still, Helen appears to be in good health and will hopefully be around for some time to come. I don’t think even the Cubs winning another World Series would bother her.
On the other hand, the shock of such an event will probably kill me.
Ah well, I should be safe. As they say in the play, Bleacher Bums, ‘Nobody ever went broke betting against the Cubs after the Fourth of July.”
Happy birthday, Aunt Helen.
John Ostrander writes Star Wars Legacy, GrimJack, Munden’s Bar and a whole new thing coming soon to a ComicMix near you.
We are all a product of our times. My grandmother would neurotically hoard stuff. This was always explained by saying, "She lived through the Depression." I was born in '62. I can't imagine how many ways those times shaped me. My early exposure to the Beatles and to the "Batman" TV show, "Mr. Rogers Neighborhood" and Funny Face Drink Mix shaped me in ways that I can't explain.When I tell my daughters that when I was a kid there were no microwave ovens or home computer or Internet, their eyes go big with wonder. They can hardly picture a world like that. It's like the way I think about a world without running water or electricity. It's hard for me to fully comprehend.When I started this comment it was going to be very short and sweet. I had eaten at a restaurant in Seattle called "The Iron Horse." It was a little diner with a Railroad theme and the food was delivered to the table on the flatbed of a model train. I was going to suggest John look it up the next time a Comic Convention or book tour took him near Seattle. But … it's gone. At least five years gone. The world moves on, and in some sense we become living anachronisms, people shaped in another time, living in an ever changing and forever changed world.Superman was born in 1938. (He had been gestating since 1932. Siegel and Shuster invented him in 1932, but he was first published June 1938.) He's shaped seventy years worth of history. But how has history shaped him? Our Heroes have become timeless. At one time comics tried to explain how characters who were tied to historical events like World War II could still be young. Captain America was kept young and fresh in a block of ice for twenty years. The Superman and Batman that fought in World War II were explained away as the Earth-2 (alternate universe) heroes. Then we had several Crisis that reset universes, or reset time lines. Fictional events that started the clock all over again.But each time a MAJOR event happens in the fictional world, each time the sky turns red or the moon breaks in half, and that event doesn't happen here, we are reminded that our heroes aren't shaped by our times, they aren't even shaped by their times. They are timeless. Icons. Platonic ideals. Boats that skim across the waters of time, but are never carried anywhere or changed by them.Are there even any events in a Superhero's fictional time line that aren't in danger of being redacted, retracted, reinterpreted or just ignored and forgotten? Death means nothing. Death is a joke. Losing your powers? Nah. The hero will get them back, generally within a year, and eventually forget they were ever lost. Superman lost his powers. So did Batman. Wonder Woman. The Thing. The Hulk. Marriage? Should a superhero have to get as super-divorce when their super-marriage becomes cumbersome? Nyet. Not when a demonic deal can ["poof"] reset the world and retract what otherwise might be a defining experience.Let's say Superman was (fictionally) twenty-one years old in 1938. That makes him 91 now. A golden oldie. Remember when his parents grew old? Remember how they became young again? Remember how sad it was when they grew old again and died? That was a touching story. I was touched by it. Superman wasn't. Remember how that story was forgotten? Actually, I forget how THAT was forgotten, but it was.It's a conundrum. I want my Superheroes to remain timeless and immortal. I want them to be larger than life. And yet, each time their writers choose to redact, retract, retell or forget the events that shaped their lives, I feel betrayed. Maybe it's because in some small way, the death of Ma and Pa Kent, the death of Supergirl, the death of Pa Kent (again, is he still dead?), the Marriage of Spider-man, the loss of Superman's powers, the merging of the multi-verses; those events shaped my life. And when all that is forgotten or rescinded or debased, part of me is denied.
Interesting points, Russ, but not entirely what I was talking about. It's not just how time shapes us or we shape time but how SHORT a time "long ago" really was. As a country, i sometimes think we have Attention Deficit Disorder; if it didn't happen within the last ten minutes then it doesn't matter. History isn't just something that's long past; it's directly wired into NOW.As for Superman — he and the others are ALWAYS re-imagined for the current time and SHOULD be. If by icons we mean they are engraved in granite and should stay unchanging, then let's not have them be icons. Fixed in one time is to encase them in cement and their storties become tombs. No, they need to reflect the times in which they are being written and SHOULD change. Like people.
I agree. History is important. Long ago isn't that long ago, even when it seems that way. By your aunt's lifespan, Christ lived less than twenty lifetimes ago! Yeah, Attention Deficit about sums it up. We live in a time when our President is willing to forget the Constitution and people seem to just shrug. Oh we think he's a schmuck. We can now agree on his incompetence. But we just shrug at crimes that are far more demanding of our attention than the sexual harassment of an intern or the dirty tricks, burglaries or cover-ups of the Watergate era. What did we learn from the energy crisis of the '70s? Nothing. It's thirty years later and we are in another crisis. And I doubt that this is the Final Crisis.The reason "Final Crisis" comics sales are down is that NOBODY believes that this is the FINAL Crisis. We know the title is a LIE! This is only the final crisis before the next one. At least the title, "Infinite Crisis" wasn't a lie. It was just an oxymoron, because it was a mini-series.Look, I don't mind Superman being re-imagined for current times. I have no problem with Ma Kent corresponding with her boy via encrypted e-mails. I don't want to pin down Superheroes like butterflies under glass. I want them to fly. I don't want characters to be hog tied by their own continuity either. But I want the events in their lives to have some meaning to them. Because for some strange reason they have meaning in my life.I don't mind heroes shifting with the times, or being reinterpreted for the times. But I want the MAJOR events in Superheroes life to stay MAJOR. If somebody dies. Let them STAY dead. If all the kryptonite changes to lead, maybe it should just stay that way, even if that was a horrible idea. If Spider-man gets married… you can't just have the DEVIL have him and everyone in the world forget that he was married.If Hal Jordan goes insane, kills a bunch of other Green Lanterns, steals their power-rings and gets killed at the end of his story. Maybe his story should end there. Maybe he shouldn't come back to life. Maybe he should just stay dead. Even if that seems like a pointless waste.Barry Allen died. I actually cried when he died and I was in my twenties. What was that emotional investment for if Barry Allen can just pop back into existence? I hate the way Barbara Gordon was paralyzed. Bad idea. Crappy story. Out of character for Barbara Gordon and Batgirl. But I'm GLAD that Batgirl didn't just "regain her powers" and forget that she was ever paralyzed. One of the worst moments in DC continuity was shaped into one of the best characters. Silk purse from sows ear.Maybe Superheroes shouldn't grow old. But they should be allowed to be changed by their own history. Otherwise the meaning of their stories is just transitory. It's just fodder for a society with a possibly terminal case of Attention Deficit Disorder.Look, one of the BEST things about GrimJack is that he is a hero that is tortured by his past. Hell, he's a hero that is ready to be tortured by his present and his futures too. GrimJack has died, been cloned and reincarnated. He lost his hand and wandered around with a piece of cinder block attached to his wrist for a while. He's gone through the same types of story and reinvention that other characters have. But I have not felt cheated or betrayed by that. Not once. The story has established that there might always be a GrimJack. The incarnations of GrimJack extend into the past as well. Maybe there has always been a GrimJack! But, one thing is always clear. GrimJack doesn't forget his past. It HAUNTS him. He is forever changed and scarred and molded by the events have happened and the events that we see unfold. In comics that is a rare and cool quality!
Nice article, John. Your aunt's life span seems even more remarkable when we consider some of the great leaps and bounds that occurred within her lifetime. I recall stories from my father (born in Istanbul), told to him by his grandfather, about the Turkish experience during World War I. It seems that many of the rough-and-tumble fighters of the Ottoman Army rode into battle on horseback with early British fighter planes (aeroplanes!) whizzing above their heads. A fact like this would probably seem remarkable even during the days of the Second World War. And, to think, your Aunt Helen was 7 years-old before WWI began!I really cherish the elderly and their wealth of experiences. I'm just a fool for nostalgia, I suppose. Makes me wish I had sat down with a World War I vet before it was too late. Canada only has one or two left now.
Thanks, Alan. My grandfather (Helen's father, who also lived to be 100) was a master plumber in Chicago, getting his certificate shortly after the turn of the century, I believe. He could remember sailing sailboats out of a lagoon where the Hancock Center is now. His lifespan embraced the first powered flight though our landing on the moon.
I think my wedding was the last Aunt Helen danced at. Crap. Now I feel all guilty.Nice article.
JulieI was one of the ones egging her on. And she enjoyed dancing! No reason to feel guilty. We all learn by doing and we learn what NOT to do by doing and that includes Helen.Just for the record, I'Ve given up the hokey-pokey and I'm nowhere near Helen's age!Unca John