Schulz Event Report

 

Shot by Karen from the back of the museum's intimate theater while I talked about the original Mom's Cancer webcomic.

I think my Mom's Cancer: Anniversary Edition book talk and signing at the Charles M. Schulz Museum yesterday went very well, and folks who attended seemed to agree.

About three dozen people came, just about the size museum staff and I anticipated, with both friends and strangers in the mix. It's a weird collision of worlds having cartooning friends, old high school friends, Facebook friends, long-time social friends, neighbors and family gathered in the same room but I'm grateful to them all--maybe especially to those who didn't know me at all but came anyway! They asked good questions at the end and then bought enough books to make Leo from Copperfield's Books glad he came. 

Speaking from behind a lectern that has Charles Schulz's name on it never gets old.

Signing books for folks out in the museum's Great Hall. Copperfield's had copies of all of my books on hand, which is rare and greatly appreciated. I didn't really clock that I'd been seated directly beneath the gaze of Charles Schulz until the friend who took this photo, Mike Harkins, pointed it out to me. That' ain't bad, either.

Many thanks to Copperfield's and everyone at the Schulz Museum, who know how to run a good event and always make me feel very welcome (including sending me home with an unexpected bag of swag)! It all made for a great day.

Signing at the Schulz

Friends! I'm giving a talk and signing books at 2 p.m. next Saturday, May 16, at the Charles M. Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa, Calif., and I hope you'll come! Over the years the Schulz Museum has been like a second home to me--I've done a ton of events as a cartoonist and been a charter member since it opened--and Jeannie, Gina, Jessica, and other management and staff have always been supportive and terrific. I love the place!

I'll be talking about the Mom's Cancer: Anniversary Edition in the museum's theater at 2 o'clock, then signing books provided by heroic local independent bookseller Copperfield's in the Great Hall as long as they'll let me. The talk is free with admission, and the museum itself is worth a visit if you have any interest in comics and "Peanuts." 

This is the final public book event currently on my calendar (I do have some radio and podcast stuff coming up and will keep you posted). It'd mean a lot to see you there! 

Roadrunners Beware!

On our morning walk through the neighborhood this morning, Karen and I encountered a coyote boldly trotting down the middle of the street. It wasn't a complete surprise--neighbors have spotted it (or maybe a pair of them) before--but it was our first sighting. We suspect it was heading from an open field (good rodent hunting!) to a nearby creek.  

Interestingly, it was being loudly harassed by two crows who dive-bombed and chased it down the street. I wonder whether the coyote killed a crow; they are smart birds with long memories, and they definitely perceived it as a threat. 

250 Words on Living on the Edge

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

“Innovation occurs at the intersection of things,” wrote Eben Bayer in A Brief History of the Future. “The greatest opportunities are in chaos. There is a maximum opportunity to change everything.”

Bayer captured an idea I’ve heard called “The Fisherman’s Credo”: you’ll find the most fish where water conditions change. Fast to slow, shallow to deep, warm to cold. Life thrives along the boundary where drastically different environments collide. 

I think it’s especially true in science and the arts. Someone who can meld ideas that have never been combined, or make connections nobody has ever made, is onto something good. 

That’s one reason I’m ambivalent about young cartoonists going to school and paying good money just to learn cartooning, or journalists just to learn journalism, or business majors just to learn business. I can see the practical value. But I wonder if there’s more value in nurturing some unrelated interest or passion and then bringing that to your cartooning, journalism, or business. 

In my case, my education and former work in science is the secret sauce that flavors everything I do and helps my creative work stand out. I know other cartoonists who are physicians, nurses, attorneys, archaeologists. Nobody else could make the comics they do, and I think that’s the goal: developing a unique voice. Telling stories only you can.

Working the seam where different ideas clash doesn’t guarantee success, but it almost always yields something interesting and worthwhile. Whatever makes you distinctive and weird also makes you valuable. 

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Potpourri

The game show "Jeopardy" has a category called "Potpourri" that is a catch-all for random answers. This is a Potpourri Post of questions.

1. Because we live in Earthquake Country, Karen and I have an app that alerts us when an earthquake is imminent (based on the fact that sending phone messages at the speed of light is faster than the speed of seismic waves through the Earth). In fact, we were both awakened by an alert at 2:42 a.m. last night. 

My question: why is it always the middle of the night? There's no geological explanation, but the odds of me being jolted out of bed by my phone screeching at me like a trumpet of doom are greater than random chance would suggest. 

BTW, we never felt the quake, which was a 4.6 some distance away.

2. Karen and I recently took a flight and had trouble getting the "TSA Pre-Check" notation to show up on her boarding pass. After a call to a helpful (really!) TSA representative, we learned that Karen had made a typo in her Known Traveler Number. Once corrected, we had no trouble.

But she'd been using that wrong number for years! Flying all over the place, back and forth across the country, using an incorrect Known Traveler Number that, until now, always granted her access to the Pre-Check line. 

My question: how safe should I feel flying our friendly skies knowing that apparently any random combination of letters and numbers has a good chance of speeding you through airport security?

I'll take Potpourri for $600, Alex.

250 Words on Homegrown Food

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

When I was 9, my grandparents took my sister and me to visit friends of theirs in Phoenix, Arizona as part of a month-long swing through the western states. One morning they let us pick grapefruit and oranges from trees in their yard. Then they halved the grapefruit, squeezed the oranges into juice, and put them on the table for breakfast.

Although I’d eaten apples off a tree and tomatoes and strawberries from a garden, this was a thunderclap of culinary novelty! An entire meal, harvested for free, “farm to table.” Wow!

I’ve always gotten tremendous satisfaction from growing my own food. Oh, not much of it. Karen and I aren’t farmers living off the land. We have a small suburban yard with a smaller raised planting bed, but every season we fill it with basil and tomatoes to produce enough green pesto and red pasta sauce to last the rest of the year.

We’ve tried other crops: squash, beans, peppers. They’ve been hit and miss for us—usually miss. Tomatoes and basil are reliable and versatile.

You also have to account for what the neighbors are cultivating. We never need to grow zucchini or lemons because we can count on friends begging us to relieve them of their burden. It’s a nice hyper-local barter economy.

There is nothing like sitting down to dinner and saying, “This meal was in our garden this morning.” It tastes better, must be healthier, and feels like the way food should really be prepared.

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250 Words on Being Too Good to Ignore

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

My two favorite books about writing and creativity are On Writing by Stephen King and Born Standing Up by Steve Martin. In particular, Martin had some advice that hit hard and stuck with me: “Be so good they can’t ignore you.”

Yes.

When I was young I thought I really wanted to draw superhero comics (a career that holds no appeal to me today). I kept looking at artists I considered the worst working for DC and Marvel and thinking, “I’m better than them, they should hire me instead!” 

That attitude is common among aspiring creators, but in retrospect its ignorance and arrogance is embarrassing. First, I can see now that I really wasn’t better than those artists. Second, those artists had 30-year track records producing professional-grade work on deadline, while I had none. Third, I was an idiot to set my sights so low.

Don’t aim to be better than the worst. Aim to be better than the best. 

But that’s so daunting! You could never be as good as Jack Kirby or Neal Adams or Charles Schulz (or Stephen King or Steve Martin)! Impossible!

But you can work hard and do your best and fall short because you’re right, you’ll never be better than the best. But maybe you’ve made yourself better than 90 percent of your competition instead of 1 percent of it. Maybe now you’re so good they can’t ignore you, and even if they can’t hire you today, I guarantee they will remember you later. 

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Speaking at Stanford Med School

Bryant Lin and I before the class started.

I had a terrific time at Stanford University yesterday, talking about Mom's Cancer with a class of mostly medical students at the invitation of Dr. Bryant Lin. 

The class is a speakers series on the broad topic of narrative medicine. Bryant is in the unique position of being both a narrative medicine practitioner--his book Sunshine: An Exploration of Living When You Are Dying, will be published by Penguin Random House later this year--and, as that title hints, a husband and father with Stage Four lung cancer. Bryant is incorporating his diagnosis and treatment into his medical school curriculum. He is his own case study. That's a crazy kind of brave that only a great teacher would attempt.

It was a small class, about 14 students. I love lecturing to medical students because they're all smart, confident, and eager to perform well (having gotten straight A's most of their lives), so they play along with silly workshop exercises that, by the end of the class, have them drawing their own four-panel graphic medicine comic. A few of them really lit up, and I'm often surprised by how thoughtful and touching some of their work is considering that an hour earlier they'd never tried to make a comic. 

I've been a guest lecturer for this class a few years in a row. As I was leaving, Bryant said he was sorry he'd forgotten to bring his copy of The Last Mechanical Monster for me to sign. I replied, "I'll be back next year--and so will you." "Thanks," he said quietly. "That's the plan."

My opening slide, showing the sketch that inspired me to tell our family's story in the form of a comic and later because a page in Mom's Cancer. Photo by the class T.A., Cyril Sebastian.

250 Words on Dreamscapes

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

I have a couple of recurring dreams. They don’t always follow the same storylines, but the locations and my goals are the same. I suspect they give me some insights into how my mind works.

One recurring dream is set in my grandparents’ house, which is nothing like any house they ever had. It’s a huge and rambling maze, with rooms built off a corridor that makes an enormous loop. Usually, I’m searching through rooms, and rooms within rooms within rooms, to find something.

My other dream is set in Disneyland but, again, it’s nothing like the original theme park. In contrast to Disneyland’s hub-and-spokes design, the park of my dreams is on a rigid grid, with different themed areas laid out like city blocks. The rides are bare-bones versions of the real ones. I always sneak in through a back gate. Usually, I’m looking for my family.

I’ve spent enough dream time in both environments that I think I could draw maps of them. Their rigid rectilinear architecture reminds me of the “mind palace” practice of organizing your memory as an imaginary network of spaces, with each space representing a discrete event or data point. 

I wonder if wandering through a house or theme park is my subconscious brain’s way of integrating new information with old, plugging it in to its proper slots. Like defragging a computer. Maybe a mind, like a house or theme park, needs housekeeping to dispose of litter and sweep cobwebs out of the corners.

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The Kids Are Alright

The Kids Are Alright.* I saw the most wholesome thing on our morning walk: three boys who'd screwed wheels to the bottom of a wooden shipping crate and were taking turns pulling each other around the neighborhood. Kludged together and slightly dangerous, it was like a scene from a century ago. Like an "Our Gang" gag. I couldn't have been more delighted.

If you're driving through a residential neighborhood, slow down and don't cut corners. You never know what's coming around the bend.

*copyright 1965, The Who

Captain America Podcast: How It's Going

Friends may recall that I am cohosting a podcast about "Captain America: The First Avenger" in which we examine one minute of the movie per episode. Sounds odd but it works. 

I haven't mentioned it much on social media because we post three episodes per week and I don't want to try everyone's patience, but we just recorded two episodes I'm especially proud of and want to advise folks to take a listen to:

Our guest for Episode 49 was my friend Justin Thompson, who in addition to being a fine cartoonist is also an actor and stunt performer who in a previous career actually portrayed Captain America in public appearances for Marvel. We talked about the responsibility that goes with putting on the red, white, and blue tights and the nature of heroism. Good stuff!

https://www.capminute.com/cm/podcast/minute-049-the-star-spangled-man-with-a-plan/

Two episodes later, our guest for Episode 51 was comic book writer Mark Waid, whose long career has featured acclaimed work for both DC and Marvel, including a long run on the Captain America comic book. We had a terrific discussion about how he analyzed and wrote the character of Steve Rogers, and what he thinks of the movies' interpretation of him. 

https://www.capminute.com/cm/podcast/minute-051-captain-america-issue-1/

Recommended! And if you like those, there's more where they came from.

Trespassing on the Future

Karen and I often watch the Antiques Roadshow on PBS, and last night someone said something that I liked so much I remembered it and looked it up this morning.

While discussing a rocking chair by mid-century designers Charles and Ray Eames, appraiser John Sollo praised the Eameses by saying: "I like people who trespass on the future."

What a neat way to say that they were ahead of their time. "Trespass on the future." I thought that was great! If it's a common expression, it's a new one to me. 

Two notes: One, Charles and Ray Eames were a married couple--Ray was Charles's wife--who did a lot more than design furniture. If you can picture Mid-century Modern design, art, architecture and even film, odds are they influenced it. Two, the chair was appraised for $800 to $1200.

250 Words on My Favorite Con Story

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

A podcast host recently asked about my experiences with fans at comics conventions. It reminded me of my favorite con story of all.

It happened a few years ago at LumaCon, a small, free comics convention put on by librarians in Petaluma, Calif. to encourage love of reading, creativity, and wholesome fandom. It couldn’t be more sincere if it were Linus’s pumpkin patch. 

A boy about 14 came to my table with his father. The boy had autism, and he said very little. But he had a “How to Draw Dragonball Z” book and had gone through it, meticulously mimicking its manga style, and wanted to show me his work. 

I gently critiqued his drawings and asked if he’d created any characters and stories of his own. He turned to the back pages and showed me some original work, which I encouraged him to keep doing. His dad was beaming. The boy and I had a good chat and he left happy. 

Later, the father circled back to thank me and explain that he once worried his son would never talk. Then he discovered comics. His very first words, at the age of 9, were “Superman’s cape is red.”

Comics were the key to unlocking and engaging his mind. For the father, going from fearing his son might never speak to a few years later watching him share his art with a cartoonist at a comics convention was profoundly moving. 

"Superman’s cape is red."

You don’t forget something like that. 

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PLEASE SUBSCRIBE! I am sharing these little "250 Words On" essays via Substack, which will email a new one to your In Box every Tuesday morning. Just follow this link and enter your email address. It's free, and I promise to never use your address for evil purposes.