It’s an ancient story. A story seeped in drama, excitement, pain, victory, and yes, love. And it begins at the beginning as most stories do. At least the stories that have beginnings. Let us go back, back to the distant American past – the early 1960’s. It is a time of change and turmoil. When the Cold War was heating up and a ragtag group of British musicians were asking to hold our hands. It was a tragic time. A time when our nation lost one of its brightest stars to a gunman’s bullet. Travel back with us now. Back, back, back
Then jump ahead in time two years. A young boy, no more than, two years old is found by a clan of sasquatch in the Piney Woods of East Texas. The creatures, enamored by the boy’s spunky nature and cuteness, adopted rather than eat him. They raised him as one of their own, teaching him the ways of the buck and the hawk and the ant and the possum and the shrew and the chameleon that only changes from green to brown and back again. The child learned quickly and well earning the name DDddooooolllllliiiikkkttaabbububububub which means in Sasquatch ‘That kid we found by that picnic table, the one with no hair. The kid not the picnic table. But the picnic table didn’t have hair either. Cause they don’t you know.’ As the boy grew he became curious about all things and was often found wandering alone, by himself. It was on one of these wanderings that he discovered…humans. He has heard stories about these beings, the ones who made picnic tables and slept in those flimsy hut things. But he had never seen one.
But on this day, June 12, 1968 to be exact, he unknowingly stepped out in front of one of their ‘cars’ and stepped into the lives of a certain couple who almost hit him with their ‘car’. They were stunned and not a small bit afraid. First off because he had nimbly jumped on top of their car. Secondly because here was a naked little boy standing on the hood of their car beating it loudly with a club. A filthy, grimy little boy with a club. Beating their car like he was trying to kill it.
The boy was even more stunned. First this big metal thing had tried to eat him. But had nimbly leapt out of its mouth and was even now subduing it with his club. So it would be dead and he would be renowned for this magnificent kill.
As the boy continued to beat the car, the man got out of it and drawing a large fishing net from the back, captured the boy and put him in the trunk of the car.
The couple drove home and, after considerable time and effort and a lot of yellow cake with chocolate icing, adopted the little wild boy. They named him Thomas after a favorite uncle. And they were all happy. Tom, as he was now known, grew to love the couple and they he. These were happy times. Even the times when they found the boy sitting naked in a tree petting and talking to a squirrel, because he could speak squirrel. Yes, happy times. Times filled with football in the yard, yellow cake with chocolate icing, peanut butter, Hot Wheels, G.I. Joes (the real ones not the shrunk down versions), and best of all, television. Oh what a joy television was for Tom. TV transported him to so many places and gave him so many friends – Andy, Barney, and Opie, Batman and Robin, Uncle Jed and Ellie Mae. But best of all were his cartoon friends. There was Fred and Barney (not the same Barney as before. A different Barney. A cartoon caveman Barney.), Zandor and his Herculoids, Space Ghost, and his favorite – Jonny Quest. Jonny was best because he was a boy just like Tom. Except he was a cartoon and not real. And hadn’t been raised by a clan of sasquatches. At least as far as Tom knew. Jonny got to do cool stuff and had adventures. And he had the coolest theme song of all.
And then there were the monster movies.
To be continued…