Charlie Brown saved my little soul. I assume I have one. Talk amongst yourselves. In 1965, my parents were transitioning from college graduates and fine people to bereft psychically-crippled people who were dysfunctional relicts living in Appalachia, with no direction, and a hellish road to nowhere. They were hung/strung out to dry by company policies which had no category for " special cases in need of emergency psychological help". Then came Charlie Brown's Christmas. What a great gift to me. A cool jazz soundtrack, and a hopeful story. This cartoon sings. It is a true work of art, however minor in the grand scheme of life. It is relentlessly hopeful. A child of ten needs a relentlessly hopeful message before hydra-headed reality descends upon him. Reality is negotiable, once you reach the age of majority. A life of crime is a choice for example. A life of accomplishment is also a choice. Charles Schultz's brilliant cartoon gave me a choice in the midst of my parents' psychic nightmare. I thank Charles Schulz. He saved my life.
Review of A Charlie Brown Christmas
