Cartoons for Coping With Reality

“G.I. Joe” reminds me of my grandmother.

She isn’t part of an elite military force, and she doesn’t have her own cartoon, action figures or comic book. My grandma has the gift of constant, unrelenting, never-ending nagging.

Don’t get me wrong: She is the only grandmother I’ve got and I love having her around, but when she wants you to do something, there is no stopping her.

But what does “G.I. Joe” have to do with her? Well, whenever she or any other family member began one of their verbal tirades when I was a kid, I’d simply turn on the TV and search for “G.I. Joe” or any other cartoon I could find.

Cartoons helped me to keep my sanity throughout my childhood. My home life wasn’t particularly difficult. But my parents were always melodramatic; everything is a tragedy to them. The smallest problem becomes a huge blight on the entire family. They don’t see it, but my siblings and I did.

My brother and I would turn to each other and roll our eyes at the latest cause for distress and simply trudge off to the other room where the television was. That’s where it all went away; the minute those colorful characters lit up the screen, nothing else mattered. It was time to be entertained, to be taken off to another world where our parents’ constant moaning and groaning couldn’t be heard. All we cared about was what cartoon was on next.

If it wasn’t “G.I. Joe” or the “Transformers,” it was “Tom and Jerry” or “Looney Tunes.”

“Tom and Jerry” was our favorite. We marveled at the comedic genius and timing that was played out every day. It never got boring, it never got old and it was always funny no matter how many times we saw Tom lose. We probably found it amusing because we realized that we were a lot like the cat-and-mouse duo.

We constantly fought and we never knew why we were doing it, but every day there it was: a new battle and a new war to be waged. Spike the bulldog, Tom’s bitter enemy, reminds me of our father. All the poor dog ever really wanted was a little bit of rest. He just wanted to relax, but he never could because the cat and mouse were always duking it out and making a ton of noise. Who could get any rest with all that going on?

To this day I can’t watch “Tom and Jerry” without thinking about my brother and all the laughs we had while watching that favorite ‘toon.

“My Little Pony” reminds me of my uncle. You know which one--many of you have one in your family. He doesn’t really work; he just mooches off a different family member every week. He only shows up when he wants or needs something.

Just when you think you’re rid of him, he pops up again. Just like those awful little multi-colored horses, he comes back, again and again.

My uncle and “My Little Pony” were both enigmas. I never really figured out my uncle, and I never really understood what was going on with “My Little Pony.” Where did those horses come from? Where was my uncle at when he wasn’t at our house? What did they do? What did he do all day? He said he worked, but I never saw him do anything.

What was the show all about? I couldn’t really relate to him and I couldn’t relate to those little ponies.

Another thing I came to understand from cartoons is getting along with a bunch of misfits. My family and I are all total opposites. It’s a lot like the Simpson family.

Everyone likes different things and we all have different opinions. We got along when we had to, or when it was to our advantage, but most of the time we argued.

Sure, we care for each other, but no one’s really sure how to express it. Like the Simpsons, we try, though, and that’s what really matters. We all love each other in our own distorted ways; we’re a lot like Homer, Marge, Maggie and Bart when we fuss and feud.

Cartoons helped me a lot during my childhood, and they still play a role in my life. No matter how overwhelming the world becomes, all I have to do to get my mind off of things is watch a cartoon.

I click on over to “The Simpsons,” search for “Tom and Jerry” or watch “G.I. Joe” save the day. I’ll smile, laugh out loud and reminisce about the good old days.

Maybe I’ll understand where my grandmother was coming from. Perhaps I will figure out why my uncle is the way he is. But I will definitely marvel at the fact that a bunch of silly little drawings on the television set can make me feel better about the real world.