Synchronicity

It's a funny world, isn't it? Not to get faux philosophical or anything (and believe me, faux is the best one semester of Comparative Philosophy allows me to do), but it's strange how random events in your life can intersect in meaningful ways. Last post I talked about how I've been reading Terry and the Pirates lately. To give you slightly more background: Terry is considered one of the seminal comic strips of all time, THE adventure comic in whose path all others follow. In a medium known for cheap one-liners, simplistic artwork, and sanitized romances, creator Milton Caniff changed all that with epic, continuing narratives, incredibly lush, detailed backgrounds, and racy female figures in sexually charged scenarios. Culturally insensitive he might have been (at least early on), but there's a reason Caniff is known as "the Rembrandt of the comic strip"; and while comics may still strive vainly for acceptance by mainstream society, it's impossible to deny the man's talent.


All of which is leading up to what, you ask? Good question. This past weekend Ann and I attended my sister's college graduation. A good time was had by all (followed by a not-quite-so-good time helping her move out of her dorm), and on Sunday night we ended up at the home of one of her friends for dinner. At one point I happened to overhear this friend's father mention the name "Milt Caniff," so I tuned in to hear what he was saying. And, well... what he was saying was that his uncle had been a close friend of Caniff's, to the point where Caniff had done original artwork of some of his Terry and the Pirates characters and given them to the uncle; and he in turn had, upon his passing, bequeathed them to the man in whose house I was standing.


I was floored. What kind of a coincidence is that? Even so, I'll admit I thought, "Well, odds are he's either mistaken, his uncle just TOLD him it was Caniff, or else they're a few quick pencil sketches, barely recognizable as much of anything." Nonetheless, I followed along as he led us into his dining room, the very place where not 20 minutes earlier I'd loaded up my plate with lasagna and breadsticks without once glancing at the walls. And. Oh, my God. Hanging there were 3 of the most beautiful pieces of comic art I've ever seen in my life. Fully colored, amazingly preserved, undoubtedly genuine. I mean, I'm no expert and I certainly couldn't swear on my life, but Caniff has a pretty distinctive style and these definitely looked the part. (One looked quite similar to the image shown below, which I scanned out of the Terry book I'm reading. In fact, I might have thought it was the same if not for the personal message written on this one.) Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I complimented my amused host about a thousand times on each of the pieces. He seemed to really get a kick out of it, as it sounded like (understandably) most guests to their home didn't recognize just how exceptional the art was or the artist's importance in the history of comics.


But geez, it just goes to show you. Next time you think clunky "coincidences" like that only happen in sitcoms and bad movies, take a look around the room where you're deciding between brownies or cake. You just might be surprised by what you find.