My all-time favorite Rick O’Shay was a strip that featured Hipshot, bundled up, slowly riding out of town on Christmas Eve; passing all the warm houses glowing with golden light. Each house festive with decorations; joyful with visiting friends and family. His horse slowly walks out of town and up a hill overlooking the town. He stops and looks out over the town into a winter-black, moonless night where the Star of Christmas is shining bright. He simply says, “Happy Birthday Boss.”
I cut that out of the Sunday Chicago Tribune and kept it for years on my bulletin board until it faded away. To me it was so simple, so moving.
My all-time favorite Rick O’Shay was a strip that featured Hipshot, bundled up, slowly riding out of town on Christmas Eve; passing all the warm houses glowing with golden light. Each house festive with decorations; joyful with visiting friends and family. His horse slowly walks out of town and up a hill overlooking the town. He stops and looks out over the town into a winter-black, moonless night where the Star of Christmas is shining bright. He simply says, “Happy Birthday Boss.”
I cut that out of the Sunday Chicago Tribune and kept it for years on my bulletin board until it faded away. To me it was so simple, so moving.