When I was a kid, my aunt gave me a comic book about black history. I love-love-loved it. And — bonus! — I learned stuff from reading it. But I was a kid. I held onto the comic for years but eventually I just didn’t have it. Did I lend it to someone and never get it back? Did it get lost in one of my 400,000 moves? It was just no longer in my possession. And I didn’t lose sleep over it, but I was unhappy that that was true.
From time to time I’ve thought about it, and I’ve certainly wished I still had it, but what can you do about something like that? I’ve mentioned it to people, but no one had ever seen or heard of it.
And then last weekend it occurred to me to search for it online. I know: why had I never thought of that before? But I hadn’t. Clearly I wasn’t meant to think of it until my search would be able to bear fruit:
It is as I remember it — Crispus Attucks and Deadwood Dick and Daniel Hale Williams — every story I was so happy to read about when I was a kid, every story that — with the single exception of Harriet Tubman — wasn’t included in any of the history books we studied in school. (I’ll admit that I definitely didn’t remember “Negro Americans, the Early Years” as the title! Maybe if I had, I’d have found it before last weekend.) I purchased it immediately and it arrived on Thursday. Now I’m searching for a front-opening shadow box to display it in!
Yeah, sometimes happiness really can be a comic book. And sometimes the internets really can be a force for good!
Check out the rest of today’s slices at Two Writing Teachers!