"Have a nice day."

May/June 1976

"I'm afraid we'll have to pay him—his house really was damaged by an earthquake
during a solar eclipse
in the middle of a blizzard in July."

December 1987

"My wife has had a face-lift, breast implants,
and liposuction. Last night she complained
that I’m not the man she married!"

November/December 2003

"I don’t get it. When I was sick,
I walked into the hospital. Now that I’m well,
I leave in a wheelchair."

September/October 2002

"NOW it rains!"

May/June 1973

"Now all we need are friends."

September 1975

Cartoons: Isn’t It Ironic? The Saturday Evening Post

"Boy, it’s cold outside!
Feel my hands!"

March 17, 1951

"She doesn’t suspect a thing!
She thinks I forgot her birthday!"

1948

"Then she said, ‘Oh, well—one more li’l banana split can’t hurt any.’"

November/December 1994

"Sold! ... For $50,000 to the gentleman with the umbrella over his head."

September/October 1994

"Uh-oh! It’s Roy Kroger, the guy I dumped for you."

January/February 2002

"Oh, Jimmy knows all about the party. It’s his mom who’s getting the surprise."

January/February 1997

Cartoons: Life’s Little Surprises The Saturday Evening Post

"Just between you and me, the comb-over isn’t working."
from May/June 2012

"They don’t talk much, but they sure can chew!"
from May/June 1994

"Louise, maybe you’re overdoing the ‘forest’ scented air freshener."
from March/April 2006

"I haven’t slept a wink since my husband developed restless leg syndrome."
from July/August 2010

"I worry constantly about identity theft."
from September/October 2005

"They’re so darn cute at that age."
from July/August 1993

from November/December 2004

Cartoons: The Animal World The Saturday Evening Post

"The way you pestered that nice lady—I'll bet she'll be glad to see you gone!"
from May/June 1999

"Humid, isn’t it?"
from March/April 1995

"Uh Mom, that string you tied your hair back with is Jennifer's bathing suit."
from March/April 1994

"Bosworth, I’d like a word with you!"
from August 28, 1954

"Gangs, muggers, smog…Yes sir, it sure is great to be in the safety of the outdoors!"
from July/August 1998

"You know, this evening would be a lot more romantic if you'd quit screaming, ‘We're going to die! We're going to die!’"
from January/February 1995

"Relax, dear! Here comes your bathing suit!"
from November/December 1996

Cartoons: Summer Fun The Saturday Evening Post

We’ve uncovered more cartoons featuring dogs.

from September/October 1996

"Before the Shot"
from March 15, 1958

Does the first one remind anyone of a famous Norman Rockwell cover?

"You've been drinking out of the toilet again, haven't you?"
from January/February 1998

from May/June 1996

"People kept tripping over him."
from December 1982

from September/October 1996

"Hello, Rover's Retreat, formerly known as the Acme Obedience School."
from July/August 1993

"Don't pet him! He's been naughty all day!"
from November/December 1993

Cartoons: It’s a Ruff Life The Saturday Evening Post

Summer, 1971

from May/June 2008

from May 13, 1961

"Then, without warning,
my motor died—and he heard what I was calling him."
from 1947

"Let’s have another peek at that address."
from 1957

"Oh, I just rented Judy to a lady
who wanted to get a seat on the bus."
from December 25,1943

Cartoons: Murphy’s Law The Saturday Evening Post

"Well, that cuts it to 423."
from July 28, 1956

"YIPPEE! Been playing for three weeks now and
I'd almost given up getting a hole in one."
from November 12, 1960

"I hope you don't think for one minute
that I enjoy these business trips!"
from May/June 2012

"I'll bet I couldn't do that again if I tried all day."
from June 11, 1955

"Guess again."
from April 1, 1961

from October 22, 1960

"Hey, I said I'd take the dog for a walk.
I didn't say where."
from May/June 2004

Cartoons: Golf—A Good Walk Spoiled The Saturday Evening Post

"I admit it, Officer, I was weaving."
from November/December 1998

"Problem, officer?"
from March/April 2004

"Boy, did SHE put up a fight!"
from 1950

"We’ll huff and we’ll puff…"
from December 18, 1943

"He handles everything else."
from July/August 2008

"Uh-oh! It’s Roy Kroger, the guy I dumped for you."
from January/February 2002

"Could you wait a minute, Officer? This song is almost over."
from September/October 2000

Cartoons: The Police The Saturday Evening Post

Farm life changes through the year, each season bringing with it certain tasks. Farmers whittle in the spring on their front porches. I learned that from watching the Ma and Pa Kettle movies. Pa would whittle while Geoduck and Crowbar, his Native American friends, did all the work. Farming is hard work and it’s best to have help.

“We need some helpers around here,” I told my wife. “At least two, but maybe three or four.”

“Whatever for?” she asked. Even though my wife grew up on a farm, she is surprisingly uninformed about such matters.

“Oh, this and that,” I said. “First one thing and then another. Lassoing chickens and such. You know, farm work.”

It was apparent I was going to have to do all the heavy lifting if our farm was to make it.

I nevertheless got much whittling done in the spring before I moved onto the summer work—praying for rain.

I did that all through June, July, and August, spending hour after hour beseeching the Lord. Farmers do a lot of beseeching. I would head upstairs after lunch, lie down on my bed, and beseech. My wife was suspicious and at one point accused me of napping, even though the perfect amount of rain fell, for which I received no credit. Farming, I was learning, is a thankless task.

Autumn is the best season to be a farmer because of the hoedowns and square dances. Again, I was well prepared. In seventh grade, our Phys. Ed. teacher, Mr. Johnson, had taught us to square dance. I learned all the steps—do-si-do, allemande left, and ’round the barn. The last move was my own invention and consisted of repeatedly circling my dance partner until I got dizzy and fell over.

Hoedowns and square dances can occupy one’s entire autumn—to the point of exhaustion—so I was glad to see winter roll around. In winter farmers huddle around the fire or go to the general store and sit on a cracker barrel. Except now crackers come in boxes, so farmers sit on boxes not barrels. It isn’t good for the crackers, but that’s not the farmer’s problem. No, the farmer has a bigger problem—borrowing money from the bank. After the farmer is sufficiently rested, he visits the bank where he is told he owes too much money already. The farmer pleads, the banker refuses to loan him money, and the next day the sheriff shows up and orders the farmer to move. The farmer’s wife spends the rest of the day crying and wiping dishes and the children eat the last of the stale bread. That night, just when matters are desperate, the farmer’s friends show up, a whole crowd of them. A reluctant spokesman is shoved forward, he bows his head, scuffs his boot on the ground, and says, in a shy sort of way, “Well, Dale, (a surprising number of farmers are named Dale) we reckoned we’d help you.” He pulls a dollar bill from his overalls and hands it to Dale. Soon everyone is handing Dale wadded up dollar bills until Dale has enough money to pay the banker and get a new loan.

It is rare to see an individual so well-suited for a vocation as I am for farming. Oliver Wendell Douglas had it exactly right—green acres is the place for me.

Farm Living Is the Life for Me The Saturday Evening Post

"The dog is coming along nicely."
from October 22, 1960

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the Flight of the Bumblebee"
from October 8, 1960

from November 21, 1942

from September/October 1994

"Perhaps we can persuade him to play something."
from November 23, 1957

"Play something expensive."
from November 23, 1957

Cartoons: Musical Interlude The Saturday Evening Post

"All right, where's the conflagration?"
from January/February 1993

"By, golly, you're right! 'Cleanliness'
right there east of 'Godliness'!"
from March/April 2003

"I'm making a list of all the things I ought to do before I die.
It's my oughtobiography."
from May/June 1999

"Counsel, this isn't exactly what the court's definition of a ‘sidebar’ is."
from May/June 1997

"All right! All right! Whom do you think you’re speaking to
in that tone of voice?"
from October 22, 1960

"Our 40th anniversary is not a millstone! The word is ‘milestone’!"
from May/June 2007

Cartoons: Play on Words The Saturday Evening Post

"Can I write off last year’s taxes as a bad investment?"
from September/October 2011

"From the BUREAU OF INTERNAL REVENUE, you say?
Well, come in, sir, come in."
from April 11, 1953

"Hi! 1965 calling!"
from Summer 1971

"Of course we don’t mind you stretching the truth,
as long as you don’t mind a five- to ten year stretch."
from July/August 2007

from March/April 1994

"Chilly in here."
from November 24, 1956

"We’re the final stage of birth, death, and taxes."
from July/August 2003

Cartoons: A Taxing Time The Saturday Evening Post

This is not all that uncommon or remarkable. I think I speak for most—if not all—of my male friends when I acknowledge that had we each never married, we’d all be living in a dimly lit apartment (possibly all in the same dimly lit apartment) with the same furniture we had in college. Among the abundant blessings we each enjoy for having married is that we live less like zoo animals than we otherwise would have. We have drapes, we have nice plates and spoons, and even things that serve no purpose but to just be there and make our homes look like homes.

But what I found so intriguing about my friends’ redecorating adventure was the contrast between the ferocity, clarity of purpose, and efficiency with which she tackled the project and, in the other extreme, his most modest of expectations:

“All I really want is a chair,” he confided in me one day.

“What do you mean you want a chair?” I asked. “Certainly your wife is not going to redo an entire house without chairs, is she?”

“Oh, no. Sure,” he acknowledged. “There are chairs, but I mean … you know, a regular chair. Just … a place to sit down.”

I found this so sad. Here’s my pal—a very bright and very successful businessman—who, when all is said and done, wanted/requested/expected/hoped for nothing more than to have, in his own home, one guaranteed quiet place to sit down.

And I felt his pain because I myself have, for a long time, hungered for nothing more than the chance to just sit down.

I’ve always been a fan of sitting. Started sitting as a kid, got more heavily into it when I got to high school. You know how that happens: You start off just sitting with your friends, for kicks, and pretty soon you don’t even need other people; you’re sitting every chance you get—any time of day and night.

But as I get older, I find I appreciate sitting more and more. Because when you’re a parent, the amount of time you get to actually sit diminishes progressively—while the need to sit only increases.

When you have kids, there is just always something—hundreds of somethings—to do. And doing these things invariably involves getting up to do them—the very opposite of sitting down.

When I was younger, I used to tease my father for falling asleep at the movies. I don’t think in his adult life he ever once saw an entire film through from beginning to end. It made no difference how good the film was—how long, how loud, how engaging—he just wouldn’t make it.

Well, like so many other things, I have, with age, come to understand my parents’ side of things more clearly and now find the shoe entirely on the other foot. My kids take bets as to how soon their old man will be asleep watching anything.

I believe sitting is very underrated. And I’m not just saying that because I’m good at it. Really, it offers everything you could ask from a physical activity. It can be reinvigorating and refreshing, yet it’s restful and safe. It lets you relax and think. It doesn’t hurt anybody else—unless you’re sitting on them. (And even that, in the right context, can be good.) You can do it alone, or in groups. It’s environmentally safe, it’s easy to learn, and can be done almost anywhere.

I even use sitting in my work. As an actor, you’re supposed to have a motivation in every scene. You’re meant to know, at every moment, what it is your character wants. As any of my colleagues who have ever worked with me will attest, my “character’s” motivation is virtually always “I want to sit down.”

Should my character already be seated, then, of course, I adapt. In such cases, my motivation is generally “Please don’t make me get up.”

I like to sit, is my point here.

I can’t say enough good things about it. Sitting also has a spiritual component. Do it right and you become mindful and appreciative of all aspects of the human condition. You often hear of meditative sitting poses, almost never of meditative “stand over there” poses. Why do you think that is?

There’s an implied sanctity associated with sitting. Think of anything important you’ve ever had to share. What do you say? “Let’s sit down and talk about it.” “I have to tell you something; are you sitting down?” It’s never “Get up and run around the room. Are you jumping? Good, because I have to tell you something.” No, because you know in your heart that sitting is the way to go.

Which is not to say I condone or am prescribing to a universal life of sloth. I certainly embrace the importance of exercise and activity. However, I could point out that a lot of terrible things in life might have been avoided had people simply sat down and stopped doing whatever it was they were doing when this terrible thing happened.

As a parent, I’ve moved beyond pro-sitting and become almost anti-moving. “Someone’s going to get hurt. Just … sit down” is perhaps the most frequently uttered phrase in my house.

Just as you almost never hear of a kitchen countertop running into a kid who was sitting nicely, so too do you rarely hear of an unhinged lunatic opening fire on his former coworkers while sitting nicely. It’s always the work of somebody standing up, moving around, and getting all agitated. Had he remained seated, perhaps thinking and reflecting a bit more thoroughly, tragedy would have almost certainly been avoided.

Now while it’s true that bad things could happen to you while quietly sitting, technically most sitting injuries involve getting into or out of the sitting position, not the actual sitting. Chairs have been known to be pulled out for laughs; knees have buckled, as have lower backs. But, generally speaking, once you’re seated, you’re pretty much out of the woods.

All of which is to say that if elected, I will work tirelessly to defend your right to sit, and vow to fight with all my powers the vast but unacknowledged anti-sitting lobby that works to dominate and destroy the fabric of our American life.

By the way, in case you’re wondering: my friend never did get his chair either. Side tables and bric-a-brac? You betya. A nice chair to sit down in? Not so much.

Excerpted from the book Familyhood by Paul Reiser. Copyright © 2011 Paul Reiser. Published by Hyperion. Available wherever books are sold.

Sitting The Saturday Evening Post

from May/June 2009

"You lived the first 70 years of your life without a cell phone;
why is forgetting it at home now a cause for panic?"
from March/April 2004

"Yeah, I'm standing here alone yelling a bunch of nonsense
but if I had a cell phone, you'd think it was acceptable!"
from January/February 2009

"Every time I try to make a call,
I take a picture of my thumb."
from March/April 2008

"It's nap time, first graders.
So please turn off your pages, beepers and cell phones."
from July/August 2007

"Didn't you like it better when we talked directly?"
from January/February 2005

"Could you suggest some place to go
where my husband's cell phone won't work?"
from January/February 2005

Cartoons: Cell Phones The Saturday Evening Post

"You’ll like the neighbors. They’re very friendly."
From October 5, 1957

From July/August 1995

"I hate to barge into your house like this,
but I heard you opening your refrigerator."
From September/October 1996

"We’re thinking of buying the house next door.
Like to give the neighbors the once-over.
How do they look to you, dear?"
From November 25, 1950

"Hey wait a minute… I sold this at my garage sale last year!"
From July/August 1996

From September/October 2002

Cartoons: The Neighbors The Saturday Evening Post