Calvin and Hobbes: Imagination, Exploration, Investigation

“Mom, why is God invisible? When we die, do we go right to Egypt where God lives? I’m a robot t-rex, but I’m pretty friendly. Do you wanna race me? OnYourMarkGetSetGo!” 

Just a day in the life of my son. Really, he has more in common with Calvin than I’m comfortable with.

I’m finding out that little boys are made of pure energy, and their energy blasts like a juggernaut in whichever direction their attention is focused at the moment. You can’t keep up with them, and you certainly can’t leave them alone. Then, out of nowhere, they can hit you with a question you’re scrambling to answer. By dinnertime, the question you want answered is, “How long until bedtime?”

No wonder Calvin’s mom always looked haggard.  

Imagination, exploration, and investigation—three cardinal pillars of childhood, and three major themes of Calvin’s childhood. Check it out to see if you can relate. 

Imagination Run Wild

When it comes to active imaginations, Calvin’s takes the cake; this kid can’t keep his mind on reality for more than a frame or two at a time. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s a dinosaur, he’s two-dimensional, he’s smaller than a bug, his hallway rug is a flying carpet, a cardboard box is a scientific machine, his front yard is a canvas for macabre snowscapes. Seeing inside Calvin’s mind is like getting a sneak peek into the brain of any little boy. It’s crazy, cluttered, creative, and hilarious.

His imagination also brings us some of our favorite characters: the gritty Private Eye, the heroic Stupendous Man, and especially the intrepid Spaceman Spiff. Calvin and Hobbes wouldn’t be the same without these alter egos. With a wink and a nod at classic comic books, these strips are a mixture of satire and homage.  

And, as I mentioned last time, the detail of Bill Watterson’s illustrations is always light years ahead when Calvin is pretending. His classroom is a boring compilation of desks and blackboards. His house offers the standard sofas, tables, and beds. His imagination, however, presents a fully-detailed prehistoric panorama. The surface of an alien planet is a vivid expanse. The animals Calvin sees in his mind are way more realistic than his own parents. And isn’t that how it feels when you’re six? Hats off to Watterson for capturing the visual aspect of Calvin’s imagination. 

The Great Outdoors

To explore or to loaf—that is the question. 

Another way in which Calvin depicts a normal, modern kid is his relationship with both nature and TV. To hear him talk, you’d think Calvin would be content to sit in front of his bulky old television watching pointless re-runs all day. He knows it’s drivel. He’s disappointed with the quality and content. His good buddy Hobbes points out the many shortcomings of that mindless entertainment. But given the chance, Calvin would park his little booty in front of the screen and consume endless hours of shows and endless bowls of Chocolate Frosted Sugar Bombs. 

In this, I think he’s like most kids. Easy entertainment is just that—easy. 

But the good news is that Calvin’s parents love him too much to let his brain turn to oatmeal. His mom kicks him out the front door—often literally—and out into the fresh air. Summer, winter, spring, and fall, Calvin is catapulted out into nature. And you know what? Once he’s out there, he (usually) loves it.

Some of my favorite Calvin scenes happen when he’s outside playing with Hobbes. Watterson remembers just what childhood is like outside. It’s full of puddles and bugs, snowballs and sand boxes, tree forts and forests. Calvin and Hobbes are always careening down some treacherous hill or other, clinging for dear life to a wagon or a sled. Inevitably, the bottom greets them with brambles, brooks, or boulders. But does that stop them from doing it again the next day? Of course not. And that’s childhood—contemplating the meaning of life on the way down but coming away with bruises instead of wisdom.

Ethics, Theology, and More

Which brings me to the final pillar of childhood—investigation. It may seem like Calvin’s head is full of dinosaurs, comic books, and mischief, but there’s a deeper side to him as well. And nothing brings metaphysical questions to the forefront like Christmas. How good does one have to be to merit Santa’s favor? And what is “good,” for that matter? Is good what you do, or is it who you are? Is it actions or intentions? When a litany of of gift ideas is at stake, even Calvin is willing to wrestle with Christmastime ethics.

But, as Calvin admits in one strip, he has the same questions about Santa as he has about God. Why all the secrecy and mystery? What’s the point of everything if he doesn’t exist? As adults, we’ve probably had time to consider conflicting worldviews, but it’s all new to kids. Ergo, the mind-bending theological conversations I have in the van with my three year old. 

Kids see the world objectively. Anything is possible to them, but they want to know why. Things we take for granted or gloss over, kids want to examine and dissect. Calvin is no different. In the end, he often settles for the consolation of friendship. When nothing else makes sense, a big hug from Hobbes puts life back in perspective. 

It sure isn’t the whole truth, but I can think of worse ways to live. 

Thanks for the Memories

I have loads of respect for Bill Watterson. Unlike many cartoonists, he stopped writing the strip before he’d beaten the idea into the ground. And also unlike many cartoonists, he refused to license his characters for merchandise or film. He felt that it would be selling out for profit. Instead, he kept his characters where they belonged—in their own wonderful, imaginative world where they live on, reminding us of the magic, misery, and mystery of childhood. 

Thank you, Bill Watterson. And thanks, Calvin and Hobbes.