A Look On The Lighter Side: A tribute to some nautical nonsense

Judy Epstein

Something small caught my attention the other day, in between all the bigger news. Stephen Hillenburg, creator of the cartoon program “SpongeBob SquarePants,” died on Nov. 26, the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Hillenburg was only 57. The news said he died of ALS. Often called Lou Gehrig’s disease, it’s the same cruel killer that has prematurely robbed us of David Niven, Charles Mingus, Stephen Hawking and so many others both great and small.

Hillenburg had originally planned to study sea creatures in a serious, grown-up way as a marine biologist. But somehow he took a detour, after college, into cartooning — and I’m so very glad he did.

“SpongeBob SquarePants” first crossed my horizon when my boys were small. At first, I had no use for the strange cartoon about an absurdly anthropomorphic yellow kitchen sponge with an irritating laugh. But I had promised my kids that after homework was done, they could watch TV… and since we only had one television back then, my choices were to either a) spend forever washing up, alone, out in the kitchen, or b) join my kids on the couch.

I joined my kids on the couch. And little by little, the yellow guy grew on me.

At first, I was amused by SpongeBob’s troubles passing his driving test, or writing an 800-word essay (not a problem I ever share, of course, but still…). I was interested to learn that under-sea buses behave much like ours do — waiting till you have given up hope and gone into a coffee shop, to then all arrive at once.

I liked the episode where SpongeBob and his best friend, Patrick, have so much fun in an empty cardboard box that eventually their curmudgeonly neighbor, Squidward, sneaks a turn… which is when a garbage truck tows the box, and Squidward, to the dump.

My children remain fans of some of the zaniest episodes. In one, a ghostly Flying Dutchman kidnaps SpongeBob and his pals, making them sail around the underwater world scaring people. It apparently ends when they steal one of his socks.

You might ask, “Wait just a minute! How can there be sailing ships under water?” But you should save your skepticism for “The Camping Episode,” where the friends go camping and, over a campfire, discuss their fears of being attacked by deadly “sea bears.”

I wasted far too much energy wondering how they had started a campfire underwater. But which makes less sense, really — having trouble starting an underwater fire? Or eventually succeeding? “What makes less sense, Mommy, is being attacked by deadly sea bears, because they don’t even exist!”

The wacky cast of characters includes Mrs. Puff, owner and instructor at the driving school, who blows up like an airbag every time SpongeBob crashes, which is often; and my personal favorites, the once-dynamic duo of Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy (originally voiced by Ernest Borgnine and Tim Conway), who now live at an old-folks home and bicker about the good old days.

What really won my heart were stories like the one about “Squirrel Jokes.” SpongeBob tries to do stand-up comedy but falls flat, until he starts making fun of squirrels like his friend, Sandy Cheeks: “Have you seen those buck teeth? You could land an airplane on those things! And why does it take more than one squirrel to change a lightbulb? Because they’re so darn stupid!”

Sandy, who survives underwater in a NASA-style space suit and helmet when she’s not in her air-filled Treedome, tells SpongeBob his jokes are hurtful, and asks him to stop. But none of his other jokes get any laughs, so he perseveres… until Sandy invites him over, for a taste of being the fish-out-of-water himself. That’s when he realizes that a joke is only fair game when it’s on oneself. It’s a lesson that would not be out of place in Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.

I eventually decided that “SpongeBob SquarePants” is, in its own way, every bit as good as the cartoon show I grew up on: “Rocky & Bullwinkle.”

SpongeBob’s producers have plans to continue; it seems that Hillenburg has set them on a good path, if a watery one.

We have all been deprived of the many things that Hillenburg didn’t live to do, but I will always be grateful for his left turn out of oceanography school. Thank you, Stephen. Wherever you are, may you have fair winds, following seas, and no Flying Dutchmen!

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