While I was in an antique store a couple of weeks ago, I overheard two women passing by one booth and declaring its contents to be "junk." This is like Jess bait. I glanced over and realized that the junk was pretty much the background clutter of my entire childhood - the pastry mat my mom used to use, wood building blocks, tacky handmade 1970s Christmas ornaments, lunchboxes, and lots and lots of vintage CorningWare. In the piles I came across a Ziggy book printed the year I was born. The shape, size, yellowed pages, and booky smell reminded me of things my parents had on their shelves when I was little. Ziggy's woe-is-me ethos is familiar, too. I can't say that I share his outlook, but there's still something comfortable and familiar about sketches like these:
I feel ya, Zig.
