I’m not sure what category of homunculus I am — but I’ve got weird skin. I don’t get any kind of nasty psoriasis or anything like that but here’s the thing: technically, I’m allergic to my own sweat. When I was little, I was allergic to a TON of stuff. Tomatoes in any form, chocolate, SO many things outside (thus my aversion to nature), I *think* certain types of milk as well, can’t remember. But there was a stretch where I had to go see the allergy doctor every week forever. I seem to remember being the only kid in school who never got inoculated against Measles, Mumps, Chicken Pox, etc. precisely because of my severe allergies. I do remember the kids in line in class for the injections, none too happy about it, while I sat there unaffected and somewhat happy I wasn’t getting stuck with that bizarre device. I don’t know much more than that and I’m sure my mother no longer remembers. I *think* I’d been vaccinated since then, don’t know. But then again, I’ve never HAD Measles, Mumps or Chicken Pox, and I certainly don’t want them now. But, back to the whole skin bit.
I’ve mostly grown out of the sweat allergy thing, but in regards to my unusual skin quality, I think it’s all part of heat being my Kryptonite, as I’m a profuse sweater. I sweat a lot and don’t react well to it. It certainly doesn’t help when the weight is up either. I’m a human blast furnace, always giving off heat in immense waves. Why do you think I wear shorts all the time? Why do you think *my* regular body temperature is 97.6? Gotta keep me cool. Always expelling that heat.
And then there’s what happens when I’m submerged in water for long periods of time. Let’s say I’m in a pool for 20 minutes. Once I get out, I can’t put shoes on and I have to be careful, because if I scrape against anything, the skin just comes right off. If I try to slip on a tennis shoe, using my finger as a makeshift shoehorn? Lose the skin on the heel, finger, whatever gets the friction. Is it the fact that my body continually throws off heat through my skin and putting me in water is kinda like boiling a chicken and the skin comes off too easily, or maybe it’s like ribs when the meat just falls off the bone? I don’t know, I don’t like ribs.
It’s all very bizarre.
Then there’s the “Hobbit Patch”. A small stretch of skin beneath my elbow that inexplicably grows a heavy patch of hair. For all intents and purposes, you’d think I had a subcutaneous troll doll hidden away within my forearm.
And I don’t dare shave it as it’ll grow back thicker and darker than ever before….
That’s the fear.
Am I sharing too much? Well, the good news is, I don’t think things will get any more intimate than this, if it’ll make you feel any better. But as I write this, we are still in lockdown and I’ve still got over 7 months of daily blogs that I am determined to see completed. There is the fear that I’ll run out of things to say, experiences to share, true tales to relate, goofy stories to create, etc.
This’ll be a primer for any aspiring Doctor Who fan who wants to get a quality look at some past incarnations of the Doctor.
William Hartnell’s Doctor was an imperious, tetchy old man who gave as good as he got. And started a legend.
*Note: the first Doctor era mainly focuses alien planets/threats and purely Earth-historical adventures.
There are a number of really well done stories from the first Doctor era, starting with 1) An Unearthly Child, the very first DW story. Shown in four parts, AUC introduces us to teachers Ian Chesterton and Barbara Wright (teaching science and history, respectively), their unusual student, Susan “Foreman”, and her mysterious grandfather, known as the Doctor in 1963 London. We see the adventure mostly through Ian and Barbara’s eyes as they discover that Susan and her grandfather are living in a police box set inside a junkyard. But the police box in reality contains a different, much larger dimension inside it and can travel through space and time. They take an inadvertent trip back to prehistoric times and danger. This story is a wonderful way to meet and experience these new characters and sets the table going forward.
2)The next recommendation would have to be the second story, a seven parter, referred to as either The Dead Planet or The Daleks. Yes, the first story to feature an alien planet, also introduces us to the Doctors biggest, most ruthless, hateful enemies. This is another good story where we learn more about our protagonists. But also about the metal tyrants. The story also introduces the Thals, the other indigenous race of the planet who would defy the Daleks.
3)The fourth adventure would surely be on the list if not for it being missing– part of many stories that were wiped from the BBC archive in the ’70’s. The seven part Marco Polo is still worth listening to, as the soundtrack is available, complete with linking narration. A fantastic journey featuring the Tardis crew traveling through ancient Cathay with Polo in his caravan.
4)Next would be the Aztecs, another purely historical adventure that lands the crew in 12th century Mexico, Barbara is mistaken for an Aztec goddess and the crew, separated from the Tardis, must insinuate themselves into the culture, while trying to find a way to escape. All the while, being careful not to get on the wrong side of the powers that be, for the Aztecs are no stranger to human sacrifice. This excellently written, performed, directed and designed four parter might actually be my favorite of the Hartnell era.
5)Going to the second season, the three part Planet of Giants is an interesting adventure, as by some cosmic mishap, the Tardis and crew are shrunk down to approx. 1 inch tall on present day earth and have to survive the predicament they find themselves in, stopping a rogue scientist from unleashing a deadly gas. The biggest treat is the marvelous selection of oversized props the actors have to work with.
6)The Dalek Invasion of earth takes place in 2150 and the six part story features the second confrontation between the Doctor and the Daleks on an Earth that’s already been conquered by the metal maniacs. Loaded with action and intrigue.
7)The Romans is a four part pure historical that is a very well done adventure but also a comedic romp at times. Highly recommended.
8)To end the second season, The Time Meddler, the four part historical set in 1066, that introduces us to the Monk, one of the Doctor’s own people, but indeed a meddler, who sets out to mess up history for his own amusement.
9)From the third season, the single part story, Mission to the Unknown, a prologue to a bigger adventure that would premiere *after* the four part story, The Myth Makers. A tale of the taking of Troy, that’s very much in the action oriented/comedic romp style of the Romans. Available in audio only but well worth a listen.
10)The previously mentioned big adventure is The Dalek Master Plan, a massive, 12 part epic that spans epochs and galaxies and the stakes don’t get much bigger. Most of the video adventure is missing but listening to the soundtrack with linking narration is well worth your time, letting your imagination paint a picture. The stakes had never been bigger than in the DMP, as the enemies of earth’s solar system, along with the Daleks, seek out The Time Destructor, the deadliest device in the universe.
So if you want a good representation of the first Doctor’s era, here stories are a very good place to start.
Honorable mention: The Tenth Planet, which, while not one of the best of the Hartnell era, it is worth watching this four parter for a couple reasons. 1) it’s the first appearance of the Cybermen, a humanoid race that, in the name of improving themselves and eliminating sickness, eventually replaced almost all their organic parts for machines, becoming, emotionless cyborgs. 2) It is the second story of the fourth season and Hartnell’s last adventure, as at the end, he collapses and we witness his very first regeneration.
Sherwood Schwartz was an old tv producer and —I was going to say “a certifiable genius.” But then I checked his IMBD page. I thought for sure he manufactured a TON of hit tv shows in the ’60’s. He did not. He produced two. “Gilligan s island” and “the Brady Bunch”. He had produced other shows like “I Married Joan” but those didn’t last. Really, Gilligans’ Island only lasted three seasons but it was a huge hit! It would have kept *going* for who knows how long but get this– CBS needed room in the schedule for Gunsmoke, an even bigger hit, so GI and another half hour show following it got the axe just to make room for the venerable western. Because back then there were only three channels on tv.
Gilligan’s Island was a tale of fateful trip that started from a tropic port, aboard a tiny ship, for a three hour tour. A THREE HOUR TOUR. (Cue lightning, thunder) The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed, if not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost. Did you hear me? THE MINNOW WOULD BE LOST! The ship set ground on the shore of this uncharted desert isle and they were pretty much screwed.
A sailor, his first mate, a rich couple, movie star, professor and a farm girl end up marooned on an island that’s harder to find than the one Tom Hanks got stuck on. What followed was a wacky dumbness sitcom that got HUGE ratings and even after it’s untimely demise for the sake of Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty, Schwartz managed to squeeze several specials and some animated series out of the formula. It was all incredibly lame and stupid and I guess still got the numbers. But none of that is the point. The thing IS….
What a crazy ass show Gilligan’s island was. These dramatically contrasting archetypes plopped down on an island. My mind has always *boggled* at the circumstances presented. Both in how these characters might have reacted to their fate in real life, and if the show were to be reimagined today in some form, what would it look like. Imagine what version might appear on HBO or AMC these days?
Just the sociological aspect of it. One wonders if this was the catalyst for the show Survivor. Probably not but this was that, only 35 years earlier than the reality tv juggernaut in the form of sitcom complete with a laugh track. The Skipper, no nonsense, big man, a seaman in his 40’s. A leader, a captain. Gilligan, his first mate. Early 20’s. Kind hearted but incompetent, and socially inept. Ginger, the movie star. Alluring bombshell in her 20’s or 30’s, used to attention and the limelight, using sex to get her way at every step. The Howells, Thurston and Lovey, late 50’s, rich, pampered, more money than god, helpless without servants, think they can buy their way out of everything. Mary Ann, 20’s, sweet, nubile, innocent farm girl. The Professor, 30’s, brilliant man of science, can solve any problem, except getting them off the island.
The show being reimagined by any number of writers and directors for a present day series could go wildly in any direction. These specific characters could have been manipulated into taking the cruise on a sabotaged boat, intentionally landing them on the island where their every movement is captured and studied by a host of scientists, behaviorists, you name it. LOST meets the Truman Show.
Dial up the dark conspiracy angle. Crank up the Lord of the Flies mentality. How long does the veneer of civilization last? At some point after Howell tries to throw his weight around, Skipper might just inform Howell of what the new facts of life are on “Skipper’s Island”. Depending on how alpha male the Skipper gets, anything can happen. Ginger and the Howells could be helpless basket cases, while the others start building a civilization. Gilligan could also go in any direction. He might step up and be a mighty rock. Might stage a mutiny and kill his commanding officer. Might hide up in the trees and watch the girls undress. Anything’s possible. Lots of possibilities and really, with the plethora of old shows being regurgitated these days, I’m kind of surprised it hasn’t happened yet. But if it does, I don’t think it’ll be a comedy.
I watched an old documentary on the show not long ago, where they talked about the behind the scenes stuff. At the time, they also had interviews with the surviving cast members, Bob Denver (Gilligan), Russell Johnson (Professor), Dawn Wells (Mary Ann) and Tina Louise (Ginger). For the most part, it seemed like smooth sailing for just about everything behind the scenes cast wise, production wise, everything, except for Tina Louise.
From all information presented, plus her own interview, she does not come off well at all. Even though the show was called Gilligan’s island and she got fourth billing, she was pissed off that the show wasn’t about her. She didn’t get along with anyone on the cast, she was always making moves on Denver but in a kind of mean way and Denver was really not into it. It was sort of described as sexual harassment. It was also a commonly accepted fact that she’d bring in guys during lunch hour and they’d literally be going at it long, hard and loud enough in her dressing room on stage for the entire crew to hear. All of which she freely admits because she loves life and she has very specific needs. She would also go on about how much she hated the show, even though it put her on the map.
It’s also the most rerun tv show of all time, at least it was at the time of the doc. Sadly, as common during the era, the stars only got residual payments on reruns the first two cycles through. That’s it. The producers and writers got a piece of every ep ever since but not Gilligan or any of the rest. So, since some of them were typecast from the show and found other acting gigs hard to come by, when specials emerged such as “The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Island”, they had little choice but to return to the island for the checks. Except for Tina Louise. She never returned for the specials. They replaced her with another redhead. They asked her to come back but she held up the proceedings calling Schwartz almost every day for two weeks saying she was coming back, no she wasn’t, yes she was, no, yes, no, yes and finally Schwartz decided no, she wasn’t.
But for those completists out there, the show itself ran three seasons from ’64 to ’67. The first special was “Rescue from Gilligan’s island” in ’78 where they got rescued but have trouble assimilating back to regular life so they go back to the island. Then “The Castaways of Gilligan’s Island” in ’79, where they decide to build a resort on the island now that the world knew it was there. Then, the aforementioned Globetrotters came in in ’81 to help save the resort from a greedy millionaire. (Thurston?)
But the most bizarre adaption (to date) came in the last incarnation: “Gilligan’s Planet”, an animated series where, yes, the Professor builds a spaceship and the same characters take off and of course get marooned on an alien planet where space hilarity ensues. The entire cast came back to do the voices, except for Tina Louise (Wells did Ginger’s voice too.) The animated series was produced by Filmation studios, who’d been around for a while but had run into money trouble and had to change what projects they produced, otherwise, they probably would have done a couple more animated seasons. Once again, bad luck for the castaways.
It may seem like I’m a huge fan of the show but I am not. I’m more interested in the machinations behind the scenes, the sociological factors and the loopiness of Hollywood TV in general in the 1960’s. The decade with the craziest, most imaginative, experimental, colorful and daring assortment of tv shows in history.
GILLIGAN’S ISLAND, Russell Johnson, Dawn Wells, Bob Denver, Tina Louise, Jim Backus, Natalie Schafer, Alan Hale, Jr., 1964-1967
If you haven’t seen Avengers Endgame yet, I have no sympathy for you and will freely spoil it now. During the early moments of the epic, climactic battle between Cap, Thor, Iron man and Thanos, Captain America comes to wield Mojlnir (Thor’s hammer) and it is said that in reality, the cosmos shifted slightly that day, as millions of fans screamed with a joy hitherto unseen before in the history of superhero cinema.
I think we secretly *hoped* it would happen in the movies and it got a slight nod in Avengers: Age of Ultron, when, during some downtime after a party, everyone took a shot at lifting the hammer. It moved the tiniest fraction when Steve attempted it, just enough for Thor to be slightly uncomfortable. We *thought* that might have been the only nod but when we suddenly had Stormbreaker *and* Mojlnir in play during Endgame, the notion was in the back of our minds again. And yes, I was amongst those who very nearly spontaneously combusted when the hammer flew into Cap’s hand.
***Side note: when you see a superhero movie and it just doesn’t do it for you, someone is always quick to suggest that “oh, maybe you’re just getting tired of superhero movies.” They would be wrong. Some are just better than others. Several moments in Infinity War and Endgame got the exact same rise out of me that parts of Superman the movie, Superman II, Batman ’89, Avengers, Winter Soldier and Civil War did. Quality brings out the inner child. My kids can attest to how I turned into a 12 year old again when we saw Thanos in the mid credit sequence of Avengers. I was shaking. I think I hid it well by calmly stating “Glurg–nfffh.”
And now, back to the regularly scheduled blog…where..? Ah yes, Cap, Mojlnir…
We comic fans had seen it once before, in 1988’s Thor issue #390 and, at the time, it was every bit as mind blowing as it was in the theater. Back then, Cap’s situation had changed. He had a falling out with the government and gave up the Captain America identity, costume and shield. He reinvented himself as The Captain and wore a similar black version of his costume with a generic adamantium shield provided by Tony Stark. But in Tony’s own book, he was bending the rules, attacking various people to take back his tech and in doing so, ran afoul of Steve, so they were on the outs.
The comic shows us Steve visiting the Avengers on their floating Hydrobase when Thor returns to the team. Steve no longer being Captain America, his relating the story of being at odds with not only the government, but Tony as well, made the Thunder God unsure of whether he should trust Rogers. Thor was unsure whether he was still the same salt of the earth guy he’d been previously. At this point, Grog the God-Crusher, a powerful agent of the evil Egyptian God Seth, attacks Hydrobase with his armored minions to destroy Thor. Because Grog IS the God-Crusher after all.
During the battle, Thor is separated from Mojlnir and is getting overwhelmed by Grog and his forces. Steve makes his way to the hammer, trying to think of some way to get it to Thor. He knows that far more powerful people than him have tried to lift it and failed but he was adamant that he help Thor. It’s at this point that Grog’s minions dog-pile on Steve and bury him. But they can’t seem to keep him down.
Suddenly, the greatest soldier, the greatest fighter on the planet has the most powerful weapon in the nine realms. Swinging Mojlnir like a pro, he scatters the minions and then tosses it to Thor, who wraps up Grog and his goons. If there was any doubt in Thor’s mind–or the fans— about Steve still being worthy, it was gone now.
This was a huge moment in the history of a Marvel comics. The enchantment Odin imbued Mojlnir with dictated that only those who are worthy could lift the hammer and up until that point, I don’t believe any other human had ever hefted it, so Steve Rogers doing it in dramatic fashion was shocking and I was simply lucky enough to still be reading the series when it happened.
Tom DeFalco did the writing honors and it was Ron Frenz and Brett Breeding who provided the excellent art. Frenz, at this point in his career had a very interesting blend of influences, mixing the power of Jack Kirby with some of the style of Sal Buscema into his positions. It was a very nice mixture of powerful, dynamic storytelling.
The story added a new dimension to Steve Rogers, some 25 years after he returned to comics and the Avengers. Thirty years after that, the Russo Bros. went and did it again.
I… I have got to watch Infinity War and Endgame again.
I was milling around in the bathroom and smelled something. I couldn’t identify it though. Linda had been cleaning up there, so it could have been anything.
Trying to analyze the smell, I wondered if it was toast I smelled. THEN, what I like to call “the show” starts grinding away in my head, as my thoughts would start to wander, make connections, stream of consciousness, etc., etc.
Then I tried to recall what you smell right before you have a stroke.
Was it toast? Because if so, that’s a bit loose then because every time someone makes toast, and you’re in another part of the house, smelling the toast, and holy shit!
What if you’re a chef? You’re probably ALWAYS smelling toast!
It couldn’t be THAT common of a smell being such a warning sign. Right?
Have no fear, I wasn’t having a stroke or anything — that would be a much different blog, and probably not typed, sadly, and only dictated with difficulty.
No, of course I had to look it up. That’s always dicey, but I had a minute.
Turns out it’s *burnt toast*. And it could mean you have a brain tumor OR are having a stroke. OR, you might have Phantosmia, a condition where you smell things that aren’t there.
That knowledge could come in handy next time someone accuses you of farting.
You can respond “Oh, You’re obviously suffering from Phantosmia. Freak!” Whether you farted or not.
Let’s also not forget that simply smelling anything is a good sign. I’ve heard from various sources, *none confirmed*, that if you can’t smell or taste anything, that you may be in the early stages of becoming symptomatic with COVID-19.
I have no idea if that’s remotely true or not.
My daughter noted that her sense of smell increased recently after burning her hand with hot water due to a microwaveable Mac & cheese incident.
A heightened sense of smell is not exactly that formidable a super power and really only a fifth of what Daredevil can do, but if she wants to be known as The Sniffer, I support her in her new life.
And it would also possibly mean she’s not stricken with the virus. Double bonus there. Unless that’s nonsense.
So the moral of the story would be…careful when microwaving Mac & cheese?
Don’t burn toast?
Maybe stop and smell the flowers, and don’t cross….
So I was watching a rerun of 30 Rock the other day and there were a number of horse paintings in the background of certain scenes. So of course I made the logical connection:
Imagine a guy who could turn any part of his body into the corresponding body part of a horse.
His head into a horse head. Legs into horse legs, hands into hooves, you get the idea. He could go ALL horse, just a body part, go Centaur, you name it. That’s as far as I got.
So let’s play out the possibilities right here, right now in the blog–
*Would I go comedy or drama with this? I think comedy would seep in and undercut the various bizarre notes if I went serious, so maybe think comedy with some occasional dramatic undertones.
*He’d be a scientist fiddling with genetic improvements, trying to increase muscle mass, strengthen the human body to better weather the effects of weightlessness in outer space.
*He unfortunately screwed up and added too much horse DNA to the mix, and when he tested it on himself–naughty scientist–he found he could transform himself.
*His test actually worked to an extent, as his natural strength is triple what it was, if he concentrates. When he transforms say, his leg into a horse leg, he can deliver a devastating kick that can smash through a wall or seriously injure a bad guy.
*He often wears a tux as he’s always at fund raisers and high society gatherings. When he transforms though, his clothes easily accommodate the shape change because he treats them with “Flexecules”, a substance which allows the molecules of his clothes to alter themselves right along with him.
*His name is Dr. Chuck Terrain
*He has a long time girlfriend, Cassandra Elegante.
*Maybe someday, she’ll become Lady Horse.
*When he has a horse head, he retains his intelligence but his personality does alter slightly and he’s a bit saltier and refers to everyone as “Wilber”.
It’s the responsibility of every father to A) love, protect, care for and teach their children about life, B) give them the impression that you know all, see all and they will never get away with anything, C) teach them to behave and always be aware of their surroundings and D) in small ways, have fun with them, which they sometimes refer to as torture.
With my son, I would plague him with bizarre nicknames, such as Piotr or Koshkoloshk. By the time I got to the 20th or 30th nickname, he found he’d grown to like some of the earlier ones. Or I might find interesting ways to catch him in a lie.
Like the time we all went out to dinner at a Greek restaurant, and I knew he was lying about something that had recently happened. He was around 5 or so and after ordering our food, I told him that “I certainly hoped that he was telling the truth, because I have ways of knowing if he’s not.” In fact, I told him “for instance, If you were lying, our food will catch on fire.” At that moment, our Saganaki appetizer arrived. It was fried cheese they set on fire as part of the display. Flames shoot up about six feet.
Worth it to see the look on his face. There were a few lessons like that with him, but no real torture.
My daughter, on the other hand…. well, *she* called it torture. I found it hilarious. See, it mostly stemmed from this thing she has about inanimate objects staring at her. For instance, we had this little green pottery container in the bathroom filled with q-tips. The lid had a little sculpted turtle on it. It sat on a shelf in the bathroom. I eventually noticed that after Theresa was in the bathroom, the lid was rotated away, so the little turtle was facing away from the general direction of the toilet. I would turn it around so it would face the toilet and sure enough, it would be turned away the next she was in there. Interesting.
Watching an old Doctor Who, there was a scene that took place back stage at a theater, where the Doctor was chasing the bad guy, who picked up a prop horse head and threw it at the Doctor. When the cheap and shoddy horse head prop turned toward the camera, she freaked out because the thing was “looking” at her. I found this particular phobia odd and didn’t really think she was that serious about it, or that it was that bad. Until the eyeball.
I considered it a bit of a running joke that I’d either turn the turtle in her direction in the bathroom, or one time, I went into her bedroom during the day, and on the high shelf over the bed, I positioned each of her stuffed Rugrat dolls so they’d be peeking over the edge at her. She would move them back with a “very funny, dad!”. So I thought it was really just more of a back and forth joke, honest to god. But then of course, I went too far.
One day, I just thought it’d be hilarious if I drew this giant eyeball and stuck it to her ceiling over her bed. But I’d make sure it was day time when she went in there and saw it, I’d be there too, to get the reaction, but also for comfort if she didn’t like it. Is was quite a good and convincing eyeball. Here’s the thing–something came up during the day, work or whatever and I totally forgot all about it. She never noticed it all day and everything went on like normal, until later that night.
I was watching tv, when suddenly, there’s this blood curdling scream from the other room. Suddenly, I remember. Oh shit.
Suffice it to say, I was in the dog house, I felt horrible, but she eventually forgave me, and I no longer played anymore eyeball jokes on her. Well, not until she was much older and was far less likely to be traumatized.
Interesting side note: you know when you’re at an airport or hospital or some restaurant, and you go to the bathroom and there’s that plastic, fold up diaper changing table in there? You ever notice the big koala bear cartoon logo sticker on them? Boy, that thing freaks her out, big time. Still does, to this day. She still feels like it’s “looking at her”.
So listen, if you ever happen to be in one of those bathrooms and are seated in front of the koala, do NOT take a pic with your cell phone and send it to her. Under NO circumstances should you do that. EVER.
(Disclaimer: the following excludes any and all Impact people I used to work with. That’s a different blog. This is all about the freelance years. On with the show)
Over the past 30 + years, I have worked on thousands of jobs, with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of art directors. Maybe a thousand but I can’t say for sure.
The vast majority have been good to work with– and *some* were a genuine pleasure to work with over the years. Sonja Olson, Colleen McTaggart, Jim Fansler, Nikki Baker, Anthony Massa to name a few. I know I’m forgetting some people but there are hundreds to sift through, so forgive me. Wonderful people who are true professionals, know what they’re doing, and they trust me to do my thing. And they make it known they appreciate the effort at the end. That means the world to me.
*No, I’m not dying or retiring, I can’t afford to. I’ll be at this another 20 years. Anyway…
But there was one art director…. and I just gotta say it….there was one who actually gave me a present. Two, actually. We had worked together while she was at two or three agencies over the years, and I did a ton of stuff during that time. We’ve only ever spoken on the phone or back and forth on email, like most A.D.’s. We had a good rapport on the projects. One time, we did a very large job with a very lengthy amount of storyboard frames about hundreds of little cartoon characters having adventures in the land of Pop-Tarts. When it was over, she did something unprecedented. She sent me a crate of Pop Tarts as a thank you for all my hard work. It had been years since I’d had Pop -Tarts!
But what ho, Rick? Surely the agency paid you a handsome sum for all that work!
Yes they did indeed. And that’s enough. That’s the job and I’m compensated well. But for this art director to go the extra mile was very sweet– unnecessary, but very much appreciated, and for a freelance artist, such a gesture is kinda like winning an award. That’s how rare it is. I work hard at my job and that really meant something to me.
Time passed and she was at a different agency. We worked together again on a massive project, that was at times, exasperating in its complexity but in the end, a really solid set of boards I was pretty happy with, all things being equal, and I even still use some of the frames as portfolio pieces. It also helped that she was, throughout the process, as always, a delight. I don’t say that about just anyone.
And then, after the project, she did some homework, made some inquiries, and sent me a bottle of my favorite tequila as a thank you. I was gobsmacked!, and humbled.
People are always quick to complain loudly about bad things people do, but very seldom do you hear about the nice things. Considerate things.
But in the world of advertising agencies, positions change, jobs shift, careers alter and there comes a time when situations dictate that you lose touch with people in the business. I haven’t had the opportunity to work with for, I think, 7 or 8 years. Not even sure if she’s still in the profession. Life moves on but I shall always remember the art director who gave me tokens of thanks. I hope our paths cross again someday.
I shall always remember the one, the only, Emily Hoyne.
“M” is for the Many times you called me “Shit-head”*
“O” is for Other times you called me “Shit-head”**
“T” is for time you Threw my comics out***
“H” is for the Home you gave me****
“E” is for you keeping aunt Emma’s ashes in a shoebox under the bed*****
“R” is for the number of times you called me “Rick-O”******
Put them all together, you get the idea. She’ll never read this but Happy Mother’s Day! I love you and I hope between when writing this and Mother’s Day, I’ll think of something good, or in reality, Linda thinks of something good to give you because I suck at picking out gifts. It’s one of my greater shames. Now, on to the notations from the above list…
*My very first word was “shit” because this was what I was called as an infant, much to the horror of my grandmother.
**This did not deter my mother from continuing to call me shit-head for decades to come. In this, she’s fairly consistent.
***I had this one coming. I literally had an horrifically messy pile of comics in my bedroom at our first apartment in Worth. Mom threatened to throw them out if I didn’t clean it up. I called her bluff. She wasn’t bluffing. I was a bigger little idiot back then.
****For all mom’s faults–don’t worry, she’s instilled them in me— she did put a roof over my head for many a year and put up with me on that rare occasion when I wasn’t a delight.
*****This was quite the WTF? Moment when I actually discovered the aunt Emma shoe box on the stairs at our town home in Romeoville. Creepy. No idea where she is now. Oh wait, THERE she is, behind you! Makes about as much sense as anything else.
******”Rick-O” was an upgrade from “shit-head”. But then again, most things are.
Happy Mother’s Day to all of you mother’s–SHUT YOUR MOUTH!–I wuz just talkin’ ’bout Mothers!
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, your honor, members of the family.
I’ve come to you today to clarify the various and alleged murder attempts allegedly perpetrated by my mother, Barbara Julia Nordstrom Lundeen Chatfield against me, and allegedly I, against her.
I will lay out all the known facts in these scenarios and let God, logic and physics be my judge, jury and executioner. And by all means, you can make up your minds as to who is guilty in each of these scenarios. Each scenario has been called up today to be laid open because my mother has been bringing it up for around 45 years.
Exhibit A “You hit me in the head with a hammer!” — Barb
This has been an ongoing accusation–like all the others– since the mid ’70’s, when we lived in the apartment in Worth.
The scenario: one of the many home improvement projects we tackled together, ending in either non-stop laughter, swearing or both. I do not remember what the actual project was but I was holding the hammer. Mom was kneeling down in the closet, doing whatever the project called for, while I stood behind her and directly over her, looking down, and holding the hammer. Why was I holding the hammer? Was I “helping?” –I don’t know. At this point, she abruptly stood up and rose head first directly into the hammer.
*I do solemnly swear that it was not my intention to hit her on the head with the hammer, and that she rose up and hit the hammer with her head. In any event, she wasn’t injured, to the best of my know,edge, so it must not have been too bad.
Exhibit A part two:
New evidence was entered into the record on May 4th, 2020, by Ms. Chatfield. But in her new, never before heard statement, she recounts no memory of my above details and enters this account in her own words. “I was standing behind you, you had the hammer and were going to use it. Then you swung it back and hit me. Shithead.”
Your honor, although I have absolutely no memory of this being what happened, I will gladly concede it might have happened as there wasn’t much room to maneuver, I had to generate some power, so I probably swung the hammer back. Not being the most coordinated teenager in the world, there is every possibility I nailed her in the head. Please forgive the pun your honor, but I do contend that it was never my intention to hit her in the head. There was no malice aforethought there. You be the judge, judge.
Exhibit B: “The time you put something in my sandwich for me to choke on.” –Rick
Your honor, every day, my mother made me a sandwich to take to school. Often, they were quite good but one day, while eating, chewing that day’s sandwich, I discovered a foreign article within. An article so foreign, that I almost choked on it. And perhaps I would have, if not for the hyper awareness of my tongue, which could and still can–despite the advancing years– detect when something is not actually food but in fact, non food. In this case, a square, thin piece of plastic, usually used to gather, pinch off, and secure a plastic bag that may hold, for instance, a loaf of bread. Bread, ladies and gentlemen, such as that used to make “sandwiches”. What do you even *call* those plastic things? They’re the alternative to twist ties. Anyway!
My mother contends that the choking hazard was probably on the counter when she was making the sandwich and when she wrapped up said sandwich, the piece of plastic got folded up with it. And then somehow made its way to the center of the sandwich.
These are all the facts relating to exhibit B, the rest is up to you.
Exhibit C: “What about the time you stabbed me?!” –Barb
Yes, your honor, this *was* a doozy. I had recently taken a shower. While doing so, I made the mistake of leaving the bottom of the shower curtain outside the confines of the bathtub, resulting in copious amounts of water on the bathroom floor, which I didn’t wipe up. A bit later, I was drying off dishes and was in the midst of grabbing silverware when angry shouts came from the bathroom. My mother had discovered the water and was not happy. She’d told me about this before and I didn’t listen. She came tearing out of the bathroom, raising her hand up high to give me a whack.
I, realizing what was to come, crossed my arms up in front of me in a defensive posture to ward off the incoming swat from any number of angles. *However*, so practiced was I at going into this defensive position, that I totally failed to remember that my fists were full of silverware. So, when mom swung her hand up, over and down toward me, her swatting hand landed wrist first on one of the steak knives bundled in my fist. Thankfully, for everyone involved, the knife didn’t gouge a main artery. But after that, it was her contention that I stabbed her. I maintain that I was just protecting myself, while she was just impaling her self.
But once again, you be the judge, your honor.
Keep in mind, whatever ruling you give, will not change either of our stances on what happened as we saw it, but these were the facts in any case.
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