A Mislaid Egg

This is the earliest Pogo Sunday that I clipped from the paper, back in (wait for it) May of nineteen sixty-three. Good gosh, that's 6 months before Kennedy's assassination. I have no specific memory of culling this piece of ephemera, but seeing it opens a flood-gate of childhood emotions, of wonder and fascination of all things four-color. All these years later, the boy that I was is still within the man I am.