Can’t Un-see That
When you’re raising young children, you shield them from the vagaries of the world as long as you can. But life is broken and hard, and eventually they have to confront painful things. Disturbing things.
I regret that some of my kids leafed through my human oddity books before they could handle them despite my efforts at keeping them out of reach and warning them of their contents.
For that I’m sorry. No excuses. My kids are generous and have forgiven me. I think, mostly.
As for me, I’ve always had a penchant for the the underside of the tapestry. Since my youngest days the warp of woof held a fascinating beauty for this underdog.
The “freak” books were are a part of that intrigue, as were the scads of Wacky Packages I collected and continue to distribute to unsuspecting friends.
Also fire.
Dad: How the hell did you catch your bedroom curtains on fire?
Me: They didn’t catch on fire. It was just a little singe. If you must know, I was working on a model.
Reality: Tom was laying down model glue on cardboard and lighting it with a match to see what would happen.
The Buttoned Down Life
It makes sense, then, that some grotesque pins have been part of my personal effects since before Reagan was king. But how they came to me is a mystery.
Like the Beatles, they were produced in the mid-1960s. I was too small to have appreciated the “exceptional quality of the artwork and its representation of the 1960s low-brow cultural monster-art craze.”1
My brothers, Dave and Jim, are five and six years older than me. Either they discarded them, handed them down to lil’ Tom, he (I) stole them. I know that I tossed them into a keepsake box, and they made their way to Lancaster via storage.
It’s possible my kids handled these gruesome things as well, giving me one more reason to seek their forgiveness.
Shock Rock
According to the scant information I found on the web thanks to Google Image Search, two artists with a dark sense of humor split duties to create 24 “tin lithographic pinback” buttons for Topps.2
Norman Saunders and Wally Wood must’ve been real characters themselves. Like other artistic men of their generation, perhaps they worked out their experience of warfare through their pens.
Spike Milligan and Roald Dahl come to mind as two creatives who experienced the World Wars firsthand before becoming well-known comedic writers, each with a decidedly dark side.
Or maybe Saunders and Wood were just curious numbskulls like my friends and me who naturally sketched hideous cartoon characters, nasty torture devices, and outlandish creatures.
The Ugly Buttons feel out of place in today’s world of cuddly monsters who look a little different but are made of the same stuff of as the rest of us. Our youngest had a plush Ferocious Beast that spoke when you pinched his paw:
Great googly moogly!
Hey, Maggie! What’re you gonna do today?
(Our child’s name is Maggie). He was a cuddly hit.
But these pins are revolting. That’s how I took them as a kid, and that’s the reason I don’t wear them in public. Just gross!
Are the Kids Alright?
In the 60’s dark humor in bubble gum packs was shocking but not considered damnable or damaging.
Though the phrase “98 Pound Weakling” was clearly directed at me, I doubt a campaign to topple Topps for their insensitivity would’ve gotten any traction. Such derision only motivated me to lift more weights. I swole to 115 pounds by the time I shipped off to university!
Nor did concerned parents boycott Becker’s Ben Franklin store for selling them for fear their kids would be traumatized by hand-munching vermin, people-crunching trolls, and garbage-devouring oafs in a back alley.
There was instead an understood playfulness in the Topps Ugly Buttons and their even more absurd cousins, Ugly Stickers.
This is what confuses me about our current state of fright in America. On one hand, children are exposed to media ten times grosser than these buttons (consider the Taylor Swift level of fascination with zombies).
Yet at the same time, we are trying to raise up a generation of souls who hurt for the hurting. Empathy is on the move.
Maybe the vagaries of 60’s pop culture come too close to the real trauma we’re living through. Or maybe we’ve lost our sense of humor. Both?
Maybe this Halloween I’ll wear them on a sweater vest and stroll among the Tricksters and Treaters. That’ll be scary enough.
News From Town
Welcome seven new Readers! Ted, Kevin, E, MJ, Eric, Chris, and TD!
I’m working on a column for LNP’s Sunday Living section on one of my favorite things, scents, and tastes: Teaberry! If you’re from Central PA, you’re salivating already; if you’re not, you’re in for a treat.
Here’s a taste of a former article I wrote for LNP on Becky’s adventures driving for Uber.
You meet all kinds of people while you’re driving for Uber in Lancaster County
My wife, Becky, has been driving with Uber since 2016. Stories? Oh yeah, she’s got a few.
When she returns from a few hours on the road, before she even hangs up her keys sometimes, she’s recounting something sad, hilarious or downright baffling.
To access my newspaper columns, which are similar to Town Character, you must register with LancasterOnline. Then search under my name or “Side Ways.”
Here’s my LNP bio:
Tom Becker captures slice-of-life stories from around Lancaster County, and occasionally beyond; he also writes regularly at tombecker.substack.com. He founded the Row House Inc. in 2010 as a forum for “engaging current culture with ancient faith.” He tells that story in his book, “Good Posture” (Square Halo Books: Baltimore, 2017). Becky and Tom have five grown children and live in Lancaster’s West End where he can be seen daily walking Rue the dog or riding Frodo, the gravel bike.
For the full line-up of 25 Ugly Buttons, follow this link if you dare: http://hairygreeneyeball3.blogspot.com/2015/02/topps-ugly-buttons.html