The Bells of St. Fred’s

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“TBD.”—Elizabeth Boleman-Herring


By Mark Addison Kershaw

Mark Kershaw Weekly Hubris.

ATLANTA Georgia—(Weekly Hubris)—1 March 2022—Editor’s Note: Mark Addison Kershaw has salted my life with wonders. Every morning—these days, after tackling Wordle and Byrdle—I turn to his wall on Facebook, er, Meta, to see what hes captured with his pen in the last 24 hours. In my library, I have a shelf devoted to cartoonists: its just the one shelf (the poets take up many more), because the cartoonists whove touched me are few in number. They are rare birds. Like the sonneteers, those birds of passage who ink and color cartoons for the ages come only a handful in a lifetime. At least, in my lifetime. I began with Lear, Seuss, and Thurber, and went on to Schultz, Groening, Larson, Kliban, and Sempé. In Europe, as a child, I wondered at Quino,  René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo, and Arkas. The New Yorkers stable charmed me for much of the 20th century, though the magazines lost its way in the 21st. And what way would it be that The New Yorker has lost? What is it that makes for great cartooning? Well, I can tell you. Its something sweet, poignant, and inscrutable. And like pornography, you know it when you see it. It rings, and rings, and rings in your heart. Like the Bells of St. Freds.





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Mark Addison Kershaw says his influences include James Thurber, Jean-Jacques Sempé, Charles Schultz, Berke Breathed, and several cartoonists from “The New Yorker.” Kershaw was born and brought up in Nebraska, spent college dabbling in philosophy and a few decades during/after in Minnesota, and now makes his home in Atlanta, Georgia, where he may be spotted walking his dog around the lake behind his home, taking photographs, and thinking cartoonish thoughts. (Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)


  • addison

    it very well may be in need of that, Skip. Maybe it could use the boys from Caddyshack, a gopher with questionable morals and a gallon of strong disinfectant to liven things up a bit.