Snoopy, Thanks For The Reminder To Ditch The Catastrophizing

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I grew up with Peanuts. No, not as in almonds or cashews. As in Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Linus, Lucy, and Peppermint Patty. I’ll give a shoutout to Woodstock, too.

Back then, you’d access these characters in the comics section of the newspaper and then on holidays, animated on TV. My siblings and I would clump together and watch the Peanuts television specials, and since there were few television shows for kids back then — far from the multi-screen blur that life is now for adults or kids — the Peanuts holiday specials rank as one of my top childhood joys.

Despite decades since my last exposure to the Peanuts comics, my love for it has held. I’ll never forget when my youngest son learned Vince Guaraldi Trio’s, “Linus And Lucy” on the piano. It’s part of the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas, one of those holiday animations. I can still hear my son playing that song on the piano in my mind. To hear this person, who you love more than life, play one of the songs on the soundtrack of your life — no words.

And so, this is why I own an oversized Peanuts mug. It’s my deep conviction that for anyone for whom Charlie Brown and his posse represent core joy, a mug like this is imperative, and I’ll tell you why.

When I saw it in the store, I wavered, as any owner of too many mugs should. The mug had a cheerfully colored image of the Peanuts characters on the side, but still, I debated. Cheerful or not, did I need another cup? I picked it up, turned it around, back and forth. I could see the argument in favor of, which was building. Then I noticed the image of Snoopy planted at the bottom of the inside of the mug — a greeting for each sip from the cup if the liquid is translucent, or a send-off once the drink is drunk. That did it. I realized this was a “no duh”. I brought it home and knew this cup would be positioned as “favorite mug” henceforth. I can always use the extra cheer, and I figured this might help. I was right.

This is indeed why I use it most every day for my tea — to bring some cheer to my day. Do you think it’s amazing — or unlikely — that a cup could do such a thing? Normally, I’d think so, but as that cup began to deliver a daily reminder to me of fundamental ease, it started to make sense. It’s a small, repeated connection to something real in my formative years that continues to live and teach — no joke, even though Peanuts is all about jokes, which is the point. It's about happiness.

Childhood isn’t a time of utter happiness. Plenty of people have tough childhoods. Even if we have a fortunate youth, we still must learn to survive, which is a complicated process, and why we develop ways to cope and survive, if not thrive. The moments when we prevailed over the world as a child — either by laughing, feeling loved, or feeling capable — become representations of the fact that we are capable of living in the good rather than the bad. They then become reminders to us throughout our lives.

Maybe a loving mentor said something powerful to us. We can keep that as a lifelong mantra, pulling it up as a reminder of the truth those words held. Maybe we had a happy experience that filled us with the power of positivity (not woo, but true). We can pull up that memory and remind ourselves that these experiences are alive in us, and they prove how much of a receptacle of joy we are, despite our assumptions to the contrary. We are someone for whom Peanuts continues to have an effect.

When I finish my tea, I’m left with an image of Snoopy, exuberant at the bottom of the cup. He’s smiling big and goofy — unaware and unhindered — and he represents the fact that my life is fundamentally good and meaningful. I don’t exist in catastrophe — a massive fortune. Despite what I sometimes imagine to be true, thanks to the multi-screen blur, my life is actually a stroke of goodness and light. Imagination: the great creator of all possible realities, regardless of their accuracy.

Today I have the tea right there, close by, within full view, because just as Linus had his security blanket, this cup is mine some days. I can see the day outside — sunny, breezy, self-directed, never one to be swayed by what homo sapiens say should be the case. I like this about the day, the sun, the movement of air, the leaves falling. It’s a reminder that time marches on and the day will continue to appear whether I notice it or not. But I notice time sometimes. I see it on the side of the cup in front of me.

There, I can see Charlie Brown surrounded by his dog and friends. He smiles, looking straight at me. Snoopy and Lucy smile with their eyes closed. Peppermint Patty is all wild with her arms in the air, celebratory. Linus and Sally are looking off to the side, Sally telling him something of great importance, no doubt.

These are my people, and they are a sign of the march of time. I met them in the 1970s, very long ago, but they haven’t changed a bit — something you’ll say to people who look amazing for their age, but in this case, these people still haven’t left childhood, and probably never will.

Or we hope not. This is because the joys that span a lifetime are the ones that make us who we are — in my humble opinion. This is why a Peanuts mug is my daily partner. It’s founded on a smile that is old but persistent. It tells me today is good. It tells me I love comics about kids and life. I’m someone who likes to — and will — smile. I just might need the reminder to do it.

Thankfully, I'll do it.

The crew

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Hope you have a nice week, friends.