Betty or Veronica?? Hmm.

I am feeling conflicted today. Too many celebratory things happening. First off, it's Archie Andrews' 65th birthday. Although, being realistic, since he was a teen when the strip began, he would truly be about 82. Secondly, Paul McCartney turns 64, and she obviously no longer needs him, so there is no chance of her feeding him. And does he actually have grandchildren called Vera, Chuck and Dave? And finally, it's Father's Day. Congratulations to all dads except deadbeats.

First, Archie -- America's perennial teenager. With his criss-cross red hair and freckles, Archie was so damn cute that kids even today embrace him. He runs across three generations at least, and probably more. My mother loved Archie. I grew up with the comics and the daily newspaper strip, although Archie lost a lot of his charm (in my esteem) when the brilliantly funny artist/writer Bob Montana left the scene. To me, the Montana's renderings were best of all, and I offer an example of his work above.

I guess the big question that has befuddled many a red-blooded lad is the choice between Betty and Veronica. Seems old Arch, for whatever reason, had two curvaceous and bodaceous babes throwing themselves at him: pretty blonde and homespun grain-fed lass Betty; cute as a button and thoroughly decent; and gorgeous brunette rich-bitch Veronica who would often go slumming with Archie, mainly to screw-up the nobler aspirations of Miss Betty.

For years I always gravitated in the Veronica direction. Cool and sophisticated, she was always the more interesting of the two, in my esteem. Veronica was pate de fois gras and Betty was apple-pan-dowdy. Veronica was a very dry martini, Betty was a Shirley Temple. So, I loved Veronica, despite her treachery, until I married her. No, she wasn't rich, but had all the other attributes, both bad and good. It was just too much work, ultimately. So, I think now I understand the virtues of a Betty. Life is difficult enough without the complications of a Veronica. I hope Archie ultimately chose well. Of course, there was always Midge. Moose's girl was very cute, but Moose was a bit on the psycho side, so the risk might have been too great.

Now, what about Paul. Macca hasn't had a very good time lately. Personally, I think, however, he should feel just fine at 64. He doesn't have to worry about renting a cottage on the Isle of Wight. He can just buy the Isle of Wight, such is his largesse. And, he's got his kids. Of course, he'll ultimately have to pay a few gazillion pounds to the evil one, but he'll still have a pocketful of change, and he should be grateful to be back on his own. See my comments on Veronica above.

Finally, Father's Day. FD is pretty small potatoes compared with all the over-the-topness of Mother's Day, but it's kind of nice for those who have sired progeny to be remembered in even just a small way. I have never been a father (to my knowledge), and I am genuinely sorry I never was. I was a stepdad for a time, and I cherish those years (despite Veronica), but I regret I never had a tot to call my own. I think I would have made quite a decent father. I also think I would have wanted a girl, or girls. My stepdaughter convinced me of that. Growing up in a family of boys, it was nice to have a beautiful and smart young lass around the place.

As for my own father and my reminiscences of him. They aren't all good. He was not a particularly warm or generous person. He looked like Archie's dad (see above yet again), but Mr. Andrews was nicer. My father wasn't awful per se, he was just bad tempered, as I indicated in an earlier blog, and almost exclusively involved with matters that pertained to him. Let us say we never bonded much, so I don't understand those males who have those wonderful bonds with their fathers; who want to go hunting and fishing with them, and that sort of thing. My brother once said to me: "Guy at work told me his father was coming to visit for the weekend. He was really excited about that. I couldn't relate. But, in a way, I also felt we got cheated somewhere. I wonder what it's like to feel that way about your old man?"

All I know was that while other kids were excited when Daddy got home from work, we were filled with a certain dread. Not that anything awful was going to happen, it was just that the household seemed happier when he was away.

In retrospect, almost exactly 10 years after his death, my feelings remain mixed, though maybe tempered with a little more understanding of the man and the problems he had to deal with. So, in the spirit of the day, "Happy Father's Day" Dad.