Never good when this place goes all mood lighting.

Volume seven of Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples' ongoing science fiction graphic novel series Saga (ISBN 9781534300606, chapters thirty-seven through forty-two) picks up with Marko, Alana, their daughter Hazel and their extended family having to make a pit stop on the streaking comet world of Phang to refuel. It turns out this major fuel and energy source has been a focal point of conflict between the "horns" of Wreath (Marko's people) and the "wings" of Landfall (Alana's people) for as long as their respective people have been at war. And the war is fought practically everywhere BUT Wreath and Landfall because, as I explained in a post last year:

And the home worlds (more accurately, the home planet of Alana and the home moon of Marko) are in such a position that razing their opponents' surface and destroying their world would pretty much wipe them out too. SO the war between the science-dominant "wings" (so called because they sprout from Alana's people's backs) and the magic-wielding "horns" (so called because ditto for Marko's people's heads) has gotten to the point where it's waged on nearly every other world in the galaxy BUT Landfall and Wreath.
It's good to revisit your old posts once in a while. And it's good to be able to see my family every day, even if I sometimes am not in the mood to even be congenial and I clam up. That's bad. Today is the kids' first day back at school, and after dinner last night after which Sarah had some last minute homework she had totally forgotten about and she did it -- not because I nagged her, but because she knew she wouldn't do it at the last minute this morning -- and I was up doing something after we ate but I forget what, and Jeffrey asked me straight out (the kids were talking about their school grades) if I had ever failed in school.


The happiest families I ever met were all frayed ... but they were tighter than a hangman's noose.


I said yes, and his jaw dropped. Sarah's might have too, but I couldn't see her on the couch. The first thing that came to mind was Algebra I Honors in my 1986-1987 freshman year of high school -- I was within a razor's edge of failing the class and I frequently failed the assignments. Thirty years since then as I live now, I can see how intractably stubborn I was about that. While I've never failed an entire class, I can justly say I have failed assignments. And I'd better be careful what I say, because I still keep in touch with the teacher from said class ... but she was never at fault, it was me. Something you do not hear so much when your kids are failing a class in our day. But that many teachers cannot be at fault. Your kids just aren't trying, or are not encouraged to.


Most of us think we can hide our weaknesses from the world, and sometimes, we're right.
But only if we're very, very strong.


I hope that whatever else my family or even you reading this think of me, it's that I will never stop trying. Ironic. I was talking with a friend over coffee this morning and one thing we brought up is how many people look to others, particularly as parents, to sustain them in their own efforts. But the cattiness just isn't worth it; until you're actually a parent yourself with your own kids, you don't know what it's like dealing with kids twenty-four seven. I don't even like "dealing" in that conext, for I would not give them up for anything! And the key to that in my own faith and other areas of life is not to be very, very strong or "fake it 'til I make it" but to be willing to admit I need help.


Hard lesson, but worth it.


David