250 Words on 250 Words

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

Exactly one year ago today, August 5, 2024, I posted my first “250 Words” essay (it works out to the same date because I initially posted them on Mondays before switching to Tuesdays). I still enjoy doing them and don’t plan to stop. I hope you’re enjoying them, too.

Some readers have said that these posts are one of the few light or thoughtful things they can count on reading every week, and I appreciate that. That’s the goal. They’re a good length to express one idea with a beginning, middle and end that can be read in a minute.

When I started writing 250-word pieces as a private morning warm-up, I first tried 200 words. That was too short to finish a thought. I tried 300 words but that was too long. I decided that 250 was juuuust right. I think of this as writing a weekly column for a small daily newspaper. 

They’re all precisely 250 words, by the way. I work at that. 

As I review the preceding 52 essays, I see surprising cumulative weight. Each is a bite-sized nugget, but together they also provide a good, granular overview of how I think about things, what I care about, and my life. I always said that if someone wanted to know me better than my longest, dearest friends do, all they had to do was read my comics. Now I’d add these essays to the list. 

On to another year, or until it stops being fun! Thanks.

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Savage on the Hornet 4

Former Mythbuster Adam Savage has posted his fourth video exploring my favorite aircraft carrier museum, the USS Hornet - Sea, Air and Space Museum. I believe this is the last one, although who knows? If Mr. Savage's "Tested" crew got enough good footage out of their day aboard ship, they may go on forever. 

This episode focuses on aircraft restoration, most of which is done by a burly crew of gear-head volunteers as well as a neat corps of high school students. As always, I love Adam's enthusiasm, which is well-matched in this video by his guide, Anthony. One thing that's generally true about the Hornet staff: they're passionate about their jobs and their ship!

The Hornet is in the middle of its summer fundraising push and would love it if Adam's 7 million subscribers donated a dollar each. Well, that's not going to happen, but if you watch the video, maybe consider clicking on this link and sending them a few bucks? In addition, here's the Hornet's wish list that Adam and Anthony mentioned. They're a big ship with a small-museum budget and every donation counts. 

A Cold Load Off My Mind

There's something important I've wanted to get off my chest for 35 years, and I figure today is the day.

There is a scene in "Back to the Future Part III" (1990) in which time-traveling inventor Doc Brown, trapped in the year 1885, shows Marty McFly an enormous whirring, clanking, hissing machine whose purpose is a mystery until it deposits a few dirty ice cubes in a bowl. It's an ice maker! Very charming and funny.

My problem: artificial refrigeration had already been invented and was pretty widespread by 1885. Refrigeration doesn't require electricity; it can be done with steam power. Commercial ice plants were operating in most major cities, including Los Angeles, which couldn't have been far from Doc and Marty's fictional Hill Valley, Calif. (which was also somehow within walking distance of Monument Valley, Arizona, but never mind). If Doc Brown wanted ice, he could have had blocks of it shipped from L.A. on the train he later hijacked to accelerate his DeLorean to 88 mph and travel back to the future. 

The only way I can reconcile it is to think of the ice-making scene as a character bit, like how in the first "Back to the Future" movie Doc built an elaborate Rube Goldberg device to feed his dog and cook breakfast. Maybe his Wild West freezer was the same sort of thing: an unnecessarily complicated creation to accomplish something that could have been done much easier (and produced ice that didn't look like mud) but less cinematically or fun.

Otherwise, it's the one piece of the "Back to the Future" trilogy that shatters my suspension of disbelief. Or, as a disappointed Ant Man realized in "Avengers: Endgame," "So 'Back to the Future' is a bunch of bullshit?!"

CAM Commissions Completed

As I mentioned last week, I signed up to do art commissions to support the Cartoon Art Museum in San Francisco while Comic-Con International was raging in San Diego. In exchange for a donation, people could ask the artist of their choice to draw pretty much whatever they wanted. I've done it before, always enjoyed the variety and challenge, and this year was no different!

I wanted to share three of them. The commissioner of the fourth one wants to keep it private. All are done in ink and colored pencil on cardstock. These will be off to their new homes and owners in a couple of days.

Little John requested "Captain Marvel (Original Big Red Cheese)". There have been many characters called Captain Marvel over the years, including the most recent played by Brie Larson, but this is the original real deal who sometimes goes by the name "Shazam!" (for complicated historical legal reasons). I had fun drawing the lightning. 

The requester asked for "a gargoyle." I emailed back to ask what she had in mind: a character from the old "Gargoyles" cartoon show? Disney's "Hunchback of Notre Dame?" Any particular cathedral or era? She sent me back a photo of a concrete statue in her yard that resembled a traditional Asian dragon, so that was my inspiration. 

Heather asked for "Powerpuff Girls or artist's similar choice of (non-sexualized) female superhero." No alternative choice necessary because I love the Powerpuff Girls and have been drawing them since my daughters were little! The Powerpuff Girls are kind of like "Peanuts" characters in that their designs look very simple but you have to get them just right or they look completely wrong. Deceptively hard to draw, especially while trying to impart a little style of my own. 

These were all a hoot, and each stretched different art muscles. I don't otherwise do commissions, but I've always been happy to raise a few bucks for CAM, a fine institution of culture and scholarship. If you ever visit the San Francisco waterfront near Ghirardelli Square, drop in and tell 'em I sent you. They won't give you a discount or anything, but word might get back to me and it'd make my day.

250 Words on My Sitter Mona

[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 my sister and I were very small and Mom was at work, we were watched by a daycare provider named Mona. Mona was ancient, so probably much younger than I am now. She was also sweet, patient, and good with children. We loved her.

Mona had a large backyard across the street from a fire station. Very exciting! She left us mostly to ourselves, which is a great gift to give a child. I still remember picking clover, putting it in an empty can with a trapped bee, and waiting for it to transform into honey. 

What “educational enrichment activity” could top that?

Mona fried donuts in a giant kettle of boiling oil; none tasted better. She had an aluminum Christmas tree illuminated by a rotating wheel of colors. Enchanting!

Her only flaw was that she was an Andy Williams fan who hated the Beatles, so because we loved Mona we hated the Beatles, too. 

One morning, when my sister and I decided to run away from home, we wrapped up our most precious possessions and tied them to sticks, like little cartoon hobos, and headed toward Mona’s. Unlike our awful mother, Mona would surely love and cherish us! We might have made it if Mom hadn’t caught up to us two blocks from home, too relieved to spank but too angry to hug. 

I hope Mona knew how important she was to at least two of her charges, and that they’d remember her so fondly many decades later.

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Report from Mill Valley

I had a good time talking A Fire Story at the Mill Valley Public Library last night. Got about three dozen people, which I think is a great turnout for a library talk on a Thursday evening. 

It was also an unusually interested and knowledgeable group, including a retired firefighter with 30 years' experience, a man in the fire prevention business, and a woman who helps evacuate horses from wildfires (a very specialized form of aid in its own). It was great to meet the sister of an old work friend. Librarian Jenn was an excellent host. Best of all, my wife Karen, our two daughters, and their friend Emily all came, and we had a fine dinner afterward. Even sold a few books!

Librarian Jenn warming up the crowd which, as I wrote, numbered about three dozen (this photo only shows a little slice, many more were sitting off to the left). They were very engaged and we had a great Q&A and discussion at the end.

I showed the video of A Fire Story made by PBS station KQED, which I haven't actually watched in quite a while. I looked over at my family to see they all had tears welling up, as did I. That thing deserved its Emmy Award.

A good night with the best company!

Savage on the Hornet 3

Former Mythbuster Adam Savage posts his third in a series of videos exploring my favorite aircraft carrier museum, the USS Hornet Sea, Air and Space Museum. Again, I love his enthusiasm, especially as this episode focuses on the Hornet's Apollo-related artifacts (the Hornet is the carrier that plucked Apollos 11 and 12 from the Pacific). 

I've poked my head inside that Apollo test capsule (CM-011 for those following along at home) and been inside the Mobile Quarantine Facility (MQF), although the bunks Adam crawls into have always been off-limits. Lucky Adam! I have a story about my personal involvement with an MQF-related artifact that I'll share some other time. 

There are other museum ships and even other museum aircraft carriers, but the Hornet's involvement in the Space Race makes it very special (plus the fact that they employ one of my daughters!). I love seeing Mr. Savage bring it some attention it deserves.

Review: Superman

I saw the new Superman movie today. I approached it with some wariness because people whose opinions I respect seemed to either love it or hate it. Not many landed in the middle. So I was cautiously optimistic, hoping to like it but ready to not.

I liked it. My no-spoiler thoughts:

I have some misgivings--in particular, there's one moment that felt violently out of place to
me--but overall I think it's the best cinematic portrayal of Superman since 1978 (not counting the 1990s' animated Superman by Bruce Timm, Paul Dini and team, which was practically flawless). David Corenswet plays a sincerely pure-hearted superhero in a way that only two actors, Christopher Reeve and Chris Evans, have pulled off before in my opinion. 

With all respect and affection for their predecessors, Rachel Brosnahan and Nicholas Hoult are the best Lois Lane and Lex Luthor ever shown on screen. Brosnahan's Lois seems sharper than Margot Kidder's, and a good even match for Superman. Hoult's Luthor has a complex personality and interesting motivation. As with all the best villains, you can kind of see his point of view.

Krypto the superdog doesn't work for everyone, but he worked for me.

One quality I liked best about the movie is one I've seen some reviewers complain about: the film drops us into a crowded world of complex mythology and a pantheon of heroes and villains without holding our hand very much. But isn't that how we all learned to love comics? Unless you bought Action #1 off the news stand in 1938, you just dove into the deep end and figured out who was who, what was going on, and the rules of the universe as you went. 

I have to admit, I liked the film's allegorical politics. Megalomaniacal billionaires have been reliable villains for decades--see almost any James Bond movie--but it seems especially relevant now, doesn't it? And yes, Superman is "woke" because he always has been, fighting Nazis and the KKK since his early days. As the meme goes, if you think the entertainment you grew up with turned woke, maybe you just turned into a terrible person. 

I think this is an interesting new direction for DC Comics filmmaking that sets it apart from Marvel's worldbuilding and tone, and I look forward to seeing what James Gunn and his crew do next.

2025 Comic-Con Sketch-a-Thon

Ah, the smell of FOMO in the morning! I will not be at Comic-Con International in San Diego this week. My friends who are will have to muddle through without me. However . . .

I will be supporting the Cartoon Art Museum (CAM) in San Francisco with one of their fun fundraisers in which artists draw commissions for cash! You can choose your artist at THIS LINK HERE, pledge the specified amount, and have them draw whatever you want (let's keep it PG-rated). From my perspective, I've been delighted to draw some weird stuff I never would have thought of and, in some cases, had never heard of. Some past examples are attached.

If you were at Comic-Con, you could drop by the CAM table and have a random artist sketch something for you. I've volunteered to do that before and it's fun but I don't do my best work in that situation. Somewhere in the world is a kid for whom I drew Chewbacca dunking a basketball who deserves a refund. Better to sign up for me online, where I can take my time and do it right. Honestly, I tend to go above and beyond on these things to make them as pretty as I can.

If you love a character of mine or have another favorite character that, for some unfathomable reason, you'd like to see my version of, sign up and in a week or two I will mail you a piece of one-of-a-kind original artwork suitable for framing or blotting up spilled coffee. My slots fill up fast and I don't otherwise do commissions, so don't wait. It's a good price and for a good cause!

Garbage collectors from the movie "The Burbs."

The Scarecrow of Romney Marsh

I couldn't draw it for my book, but I could draw it for you!

250 Words on Not Being That Guy

[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 recently suffered a little identity crisis when Karen and I stopped for a bite at a small-town Mexican restaurant we hadn't been to before. The waitress asked if we wanted anything to drink. I replied, "Do you have a margarita?" "Yeah," she said, "but it's made with white wine. We only have a license for wine and beer." 

“Oh, a beer will be fine," I pivoted. "What do you have on tap?” 

"Nothing on tap, only bottles," she said. "Bud, Bud Light, Coors, Coors Light . . ." plus a long list of other brands before she named one I wouldn’t mind paying for and drinking. 

Our exchange was quick and perfectly pleasant, but it stuck in my craw. I felt like Thurston Howell III swooning because Gilligan's Island wasn't stocked with his favorite brand of tonic water. (Note to readers under 50: that's a reference to an old TV show about seven characters, including a snooty rich guy, stranded on a deserted tropical isle.) 

Have I become That Guy? I don't want to be someone who demands too much and whines when he doesn’t get it. Spoiled, picky, entitled. While I don't think it's unreasonable to expect a Mexican restaurant to serve margaritas or draft beer, I got a reflected glimpse of how I might look to someone else, and didn't much care for it. 

I took it as a reminder to improve my situational awareness. Don’t assume, pay attention, read the room. Or even read the menu! 

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Appearance: Mill Valley Public Library

Bay Area (and especially Marin County) Friends! This Thursday, July 24, I'll be talking about "A Fire Story" at the Mill Valley Public Library at 6 p.m. I don't have many public events coming up on my calendar, so if you want to say Howdy this would be a good opportunity! 

Event information is HERE. The library is asking folks to register. I'm sure they'd still let you in if you just showed up, but it'd be polite to give them a head count. Thanks!

Apollo on the Hornet

EYEWITNESS TO HISTORY! Just in time for the anniversary of Apollo 11, the USS Hornet - Sea, Air and Space Museum has posted never-before-seen home movies of the Hornet's recovery of Apollo 11! The film is from museum volunteer Joe Holt, who in 1969 was a Marine sergeant stationed aboard the Hornet. 

Nobody but Mr. Holt and his family have EVER seen this footage! The first half shows the recovery of Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins and their spacecraft, Columbia, with glimpses of the astronauts inside the Mobile Quarantine Facility (a tricked-out Airstream trailer) and President Richard Nixon. The second half shows the crowd that welcomed the Hornet to Pearl Harbor where they offloaded the MQF, and then quite a survey of other Naval ships in port at the time.

I think eyewitness records like this offer a whole different perspective on historic events from people who played a role in them. Many thanks to Mr. Holt for sharing it with the world.

250 Words on Rules for Living

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

Over time, I’ve accumulated some Rules for Living. They form a nearly unbreakable code that guides my actions.

Rule 1: Always stop for a lemonade stand. As young entrepreneurs, my sister and I opened many, and one customer made our entire day. The quality of the lemonade is irrelevant.

Rule 2: Always tip a street musician. I try to keep a buck in my pocket for just this purpose. The quality of the music is irrelevant.

Rule 3: We raised our children on this: If a kid wants to read a book with you, stop whatever you’re doing and read the book. 

Rule 4: We also raised our children on this: never let kids play one parent against the other. Even if one of us thought the other was wrong, we’d back them up and discuss it later.

Rule 5: Never mess with another man’s fire. I use the word “man” warily but deliberately, as I’ve never met a woman who has a particular way of building a fire that never fails and NO NO YOU’RE DOING IT ALL WRONG! Whereas I’ve met a lot of men who do. 

Rule 5a: Never mess with another man’s grill. A subsidiary rule because it’s cooking over fire, even if the flames are fueled by propane. 

The trick on the last two is to stand by quietly while your host botches the job and you can swoop in to save the day. The best heroes are silent but ready. 

What are your rules?

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Tuesday Zoom: Cape Cod Sierra Club

Here's a Zoom event I'm doing tomorrow afternoon: the Cape Cod Sierra Club is talking about wildfires and I will be one of two speakers. I was invited by my friend Chris Powicki, with whom I did science writing here in California before he moved back east and became one of Massachusetts's go-to experts on ecology and renewable energy. I have a short presentation planned, and then some Q&A. 4 p.m. Pacific/7 p.m. Eastern.

Click on that link above or here to register. It should be good!

Raise the Alarm

Nothing in this article about how Kerr County officials failed to use available alert systems to warn citizens about deadly flooding surprises me, because the same thing happened to us in 2017, Lahaina in 2023, and elsewhere elsewhen. 

The Washington Post reports that Texas emergency managers did not use their IPAWS system, which would have transmitted alerts to cell phones and could sent tailored messages to targeted areas. Kerr County officials haven't yet explained why they didn't push the button. 

In the case of our firestorm, as I wrote in my graphic novel "A Fire Story," they didn't want to cause a panic that might have gridlocked streets and led to a catastrophic death toll. Our county's warning system, called Wireless Emergency Alert (WEA), could have narrowly targeted particular neighborhoods, but local officials later said they didn't know it could do that. So virtually no alerts went out. Most of us were awakened by hot howling winds or the sound of neighbors or firefighters pounding on our doors.

In our fire's aftermath, one county official acknowledged to me that not pushing the button was their biggest mistake. They should have clanged every bell, blared every siren, and buzzed every phone they could, he told me. 

We won't make that mistake again. I am mad and sad to see so many others learning the same lesson the hard way.

Savage on the Hornet 2

Another report from Adam Savage aboard the USS Hornet, my favorite former-aircraft-carrier-turned-museum, this one touring the old girl's machine shop. I understand his team produced a total of four videos from his day on the Hornet; this is number two.

As a Mythbusters fan who's kept up with Adam since that program ended, I think his gift as a broadcaster is how he nerds out with unabashed glee and communicates that to the audience. He's so happy and excited he makes us happy and excited, even if the sight of a big lathe or drill press wouldn't normally delight us.

The best broadcasters (or artists or writers or graphic novelists) are the ones who know how to show their authentic selves. Audiences can tell when you're faking it. He isn't.

Savage on the Hornet

Mythbuster Adam Savage visited the USS Hornet - Sea, Air and Space Museum recently, and produced this video (with more to come) for his YouTube channel. It's a great piece!

About halfway through the 18-minute video, Adam rides the ship's old aircraft elevator. I have also ridden that elevator, and it is a thrill! As Adam says, it almost feels like freefalling as your eyes adjust from daylight to the dark cavern of the hangar deck in just a few seconds. It's like a portal between worlds.

My daughter Laura, who's the CEO of the Hornet Museum, doesn't appear on camera but did all the contacting and legwork to arrange Adam's visit (and now Laura gets to brag that she's met BOTH Mythbusters!). Adam's guide for most of the video, Russ, is a friend and a great guy whose knowledge and passion are evident. 

Obviously, the Hornet is hoping that Adam's enthusiasm is contagious and that some of his 7 million subscribers will come check it out. I'd encourage them to. I've spent a lot of time aboard the Hornet and love her nearly as much as the people who work there.

EDITED TO ADD: Here's the video I shot of MY elevator ride several years ago. I don't want to keep nattering about the elevator--there's so much more to the ship than that, and they don't routinely run it for visitors--but it was darn cool.

250 Words on Hats

[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 wish I could wear a stylish hat. Men used to wear great hats—Spencer Tracy, Cary Grant, Jimmy Stewart—but whenever I do I feel like a boy playing dress-up in his grandpa’s closet. These days, wearing a hat is a bold statement that not everyone can pull off. 

Indiana Jones ruined the fedora, a perfectly fine hat. I once had one I liked. But you can only take so many gibes, including a Disneyland cast member in full Jungle Cruise uniform who chased me through Adventureland yelling “Indy! Indy! We need your help!” before the fedora winds up in the closet.

Incidentally, my archaeologist daughter reports that real archaeologists don’t wear fedoras (nor, should it need to be said, whips). They favor practical floppy-brimmed canvas or straw hats for minimum weight and maximum shade. 

Far down the list of the MAGA movement’s many crimes is ruining the formerly innocuous red baseball cap. From a distance, it’s impossible to tell if you support the San Francisco 49ers or fascism. Best to avoid red headwear altogether. 

You have to earn the right to wear a cowboy hat. I haven’t.  

Finding the right hat is hard. It’s got to fit the shape of your skull and the curves of your face. Some men can don a newsboy cap and look like Sean Connery in a ’54 Jaguar Roadster while others look like a doughy back-alley bartender. 

As in so much of life, the trick to properly sporting a hat is confidence. 

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250 Words on Career Advice

[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 recently wrote about how I’m reluctant to give advice because it might be very wrong. Another reason is that it would be irrelevant. My career path is not replicable. Conversely, creators today have opportunities I never did. It’s a different world.

My first job out of college, I was hired by a small daily newspaper as a part-time night-shift sportswriter. That was my foot in the door of professional writing. Back then, that paper had an editorial staff of about a dozen people. Now it has three. My entry-level job is extinct. 

As a freelance writer, I sold articles to magazines. Today, many of them are defunct. The number of print outlets for freelancing of all sorts—writing, photography, illustrations, cartoons—has withered. 

I started my graphic novel career by mailing my Mom’s Cancer webcomic to four publishers. One, Abrams, plucked it from the slush pile and published it. I never heard from the others. I would not advise anyone to do that even though it worked for me.

On the other hand, the Internet didn’t exist when I was young. In a time when anyone can create and instantly distribute content worldwide, the challenge is getting noticed and paid. I know nothing about that.

Every successful creator I know has a different origin story. The only commonality I’ve found is that they did a lot of work, put it out into the world however they could, and did more of whatever people liked. That's my best career advice.

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250 Words on Moon-Landing Deniers

[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 once went to a small press expo to support young creators who self-publish comics and zines. I’d just bought something from a young woman, maybe 20, who saw my “NASA” baseball cap and jokingly asked if I were an astronaut.

“No, just a fan of their work,” I said. “I’m old enough to remember the Moon landings first-hand.”

“If you really believe they happened,” she laughed.

If I hadn’t already paid, I’d have walked away.

I don’t understand Moon-landing denial, and am dumbfounded by the arrogance that accompanies it. No evidence or reason can persuade true believers. They make the same foolish points, as if they’re the first to notice that Apollo photos don’t show stars (due to the fast exposures needed to photograph astronauts in white spacesuits in full sunlight). Overhead photos of Apollo landing sites by the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO) are dismissed because they’re from NASA, and similar images from Chinese and Indian spacecraft are dismissed because they’re from foreigners. 

Worse, I see people online scoffing at the idea that humans have sent probes to other planets—photos from Mars, Jupiter or Saturn are “obviously CGI”—or that the International Space Station is orbiting Earth despite the fact that sometimes you can actually look up and see it. 

The Internet really is a cesspool of idiocy and willful ignorance that, along with recent politics, tests my faith in the entire human experiment. Our tragedy is that we can be great, but so many refuse to try. 

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Warning Labels

A supremely unhelpful sign. Photo by Patrick Pelletier via Wikipedia.

This article in the Washington Post says that the state of Texas, following the lead of Robert Kennedy Jr.'s "Make America Healthy Again" agenda, will require food to carry a warning label if it contains one of 44 common dyes or additives. Because Texas is a big state, it's expected that manufacturers and other states will fall in line. I have thoughts.

Although I reflexively oppose everything the current administration does, this doesn't necessarily seem a bad thing. Even if the 44 ingredients haven't been proven harmful, what's wrong with giving consumers more information about what they eat? 

I can tell you how it's going to go because I've lived a version of it.

In 1986, voters in my state of California passed Proposition 65, which mandated that consumer products get warning labels if they contain substances that might cause cancer or birth defects.

You know which substances might cause cancer or birth defects? Almost ALL of them, if you eat, breathe, or absorb enough of them. 

The result of this well-meaning law is that nearly every commercial establishment in the state, including Disneyland, has a sign by the entrance warning that something inside can kill you. Alcoholic beverages get the tag. Gasoline pumps get the tag. Pillows and mattresses get the tag.  

The result, of course, is that the warning labels deliver zero information to help consumers assess their actual risk and are ignored by everyone.

I predict a similar expensive, litigious, but fundamentally futile experience in Texas. It must gall at least a few Texans to be following California's example 40 years later.

(Parenthetically, I remember when the right wing decried Michelle Obama's campaign to encourage healthier eating as nanny-state Communism. Nice to see them come around to her point of view. I'm sure their apologies to Ms. Obama are forthcoming.)

250 Words on the Examined Life

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

“The trouble with the world is that the stupid are cocksure and the intelligent are full of doubt.” –Bertrand Russel.

It’s a truism of both fiction and life that everyone is the hero of their own story. Few villains consider themselves evil. In their minds, they’re doing the right thing for the right reason. They think they’re the good guys.

So do the good guys.

How can you tell which you are?

I try to weigh my actions and motives using three questions: Who does it hurt? Who does it help? What if the situation were reversed?

The last first: What if they were a woman instead of a man, poor instead of rich, white instead of minority, liberal instead of conservative? If the other team were doing the same thing as mine, would it be right and fair? It’s a good hypocrisy test. 

For example, If you don’t object when your party’s politicians betray their oaths, take bribes and commit felonies, but would raise hell if another party’s politicians did, you might be a hypocrite. Reverse the names, see if you feel the same. 

Who do I want to hurt? I’m like Captain America that way: I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I don’t like bullies. When I see bullies targeting the weak and vulnerable, that’s who I try to help.

I think those are good guides. I use them to check myself all the time, and have actually changed my own mind on occasion. I recommend them.

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SerioComics Interview

NEW INTERVIEW! 

Graphic novelist, writer and publisher Dave Cowen has done a nice review of A Fire Story and a good interview with me for his SerioComics Substack thingy (also posted to LinkedIn and Instagram, but I don't do those). The mission of SerioComics is to "make serious comics fun and take fun comics seriously." 

Dave has done 70 weekly reviews of nonfiction graphic novels and managed to land interviews with many of their creators, including some pretty big names, so I was honored to be asked. We focused on A Fire Story but also touched on Mom's Cancer, Expressionism, trauma, and advice for storytellers. 

Thanks to Dave for the thoughtful questions!

View-Master Synchronicity

The View-Master with three of its reels. The red stamp reads "Defective: Not For Sale," which may be how they wound up at a state hospital.

Synchronicity. My sisters have been doing some very deep cleaning, including going through things of Mom's that haven't really been looked at since she died in 2005. My sister Brenda, who some of you know as Nurse Sis, brought a box to me today that included a very early View-Master with a dozen or so reels.

Wonderful! I love 3D toys. But how old was it? Whose was it? What was its story?

We found a clue on the back of one reel, a stamp reading "S.D. State Sanatorium." In 1944, when Mom was 4 and 5, she and her brother, Cal, contracted tuberculosis and were quarantined to a sanatorium near Custer, South Dakota. They were the only children in the facility. The stamp told me that the View-Master was one of my Mom's very few permitted pleasures during the year they were confined to the hospital. 

The tell-tale clue: a stamp on a single reel.

Mom as a girl at the sanatorium. I have just a couple of photos like this and looked for the View-Master in them. Didn't find it.

Looking through the reels, they're typical travelogues and fairy tales: the Grand Canyon, Mt. Rainier, Niagara Falls, Little Red Riding Hood, Snow White (non-Disney). And then there was one that made me gasp: the New York World's Fair of 1939.

The New York World's Fair!

Long-time readers will recall that the first chapter of my graphic novel Whatever Happened to the World of Tomorrow? took place at that fair. Some of the sights Mom saw through her View-Master in 1944 were nearly duplicated by me 65 years later when I drew them for my book (which she did not live to read). She and I were unknowingly enchanted by the same event two lifetimes apart. 

The Avenue of Flags. On the left, I did my best to photograph the tiny View-Master slide using a light box; on the right is how I drew the same scene for my book. Note the triangular Trylon and spherical Perisphere in the background of both images.

The Circle of Life sometimes unwinds in mysterious, delightful, and slightly chill-inducing ways.

(BTW, if I ever tackle another big work of graphic medicine, it will be about Mom's time as a child in that sanatorium. It's a good story.)

250 Words on Falling in Love with Reading

[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 saw a Facebook post asking people about the first book that made them fall in love with reading. I liked the question but didn’t have a good answer.

I don’t remember a time I couldn’t read. Family lore says I read the names of gas stations at age 2. Mom, thinking I’d simply associated the brightly colored signs with words I’d heard on TV commercials, printed out “Conoco,” “Sinclair” and “Standard” on a piece of paper, which I read back to her. Freaked her out a bit. 

Comics were very important in my development as a reader. The combination of words and images drew me in, and continues to. It’s a powerful medium. But I don’t think that answers the spirit of the question.

Children’s books influenced me. I’ve written before* about You Will Go to the Moon by Mae and Ira Freeman, which I love despite the cruel lie in the title. But I don’t think that answers the spirit of the question, either.

The first book I can recall drawing me into another world and which I couldn’t put down until I found out what happened next was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle. No idea how old I was, maybe 7 or 8, but those characters and scenes branded themselves on my brain and have stayed with me since. 

Good books feels like telepathy between authors and readers. I’ve been honored to have a few readers tell me my books have done that for them.

* On my blog: https://brianfies.blogspot.com/2009/07/you-will-go-to-moon.html?m=0

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250 Words on Heaven

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

Putting my cards on the table, I don’t believe in Heaven. I’m pretty sure that “you” are the thoughts and memories contained in your brain and when your brain is gone, so are you. There’s beauty in that. 

Still . . .

There’s a “Twilight Zone” episode starring Sebastian Cabot as an angel named Pip, who welcomes a crook named Rocky into Heaven. 

Rocky can’t believe his luck! He gets to live in a penthouse suite, drive fancy cars, romance beautiful women, and win every bet he places in the casino. A month later, Rocky is bored out of his skull and going mad, and begs Pip to send him to Hell.

The twist you saw coming is that Rocky was already in Hell. More recently, the TV series “The Good Place” took a similar idea and ran with it.

My deepest theological insight is that an afterlife where souls get everything they want could be both Heaven AND Hell. They could be the exact same place. An evil soul would be tortured by it, while a good soul would find contentment and bliss. All the books you could read, all the entertainment you could enjoy, all the fascinating people you could talk to, all the urban excitement or wilderness solitude you could desire.

The beauty of my Heaven/Hell is that it would give evil souls a chance to redeem themselves. All you’d need to do to transform Hell into Heaven is decide to want different things.

Maybe like life?

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Comics & Care Collective Event Upcoming

Advance Notice: I'll be doing a Zoom book club event with librarian Jameson Rohrer of the Comics & Care Collective on Monday, June 9 at 7 p.m. Pacific Time! Jameson invited me to discuss A Fire Story in the context of graphic medicine, which intrigues me. For obvious reasons, I almost always give graphic medicine talks about Mom's Cancer, but a big part of A Fire Story is trauma and grief. I think it fits and am interested to see how it goes. 

UPDATE: Unfortunately, this event has been canceled. I hope we can make it up sometime later, I think it would be an interesting discussion!

250 Words on Cooking

[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 enjoy cooking. It’s a creative activity that others can enjoy. The combinations of different ingredients are nearly infinite, and fresh is always best.

When I was a kid, cooking was for girls. Boys who did it got sideways glances from adults wondering if they couldn’t be just a bit more, you know, masculine? “Well, the best chefs in the world are men,” said Grandpa, praying that that was my destiny because somehow that would make it all right. 

Then came a day that changed everything. After school, my sister and I were cared for by a woman whose kids were in 4-H, the agricultural youth organization. One afternoon we went to a competition in an auditorium, and on the stage were rows of stoves and young 4-H boys and girls cooking and baking. This was electrifying validation. Cooking couldn’t be for sissies if those cattle-ranching corn-farming 4-H boys did it!

About the same time, I got a “Peanuts” cookbook. “Peanuts” the comic strip, not the legume. Many of its recipes were ridiculously simple—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?—but some were more challenging. The lemon bars turned out great!

Mom lovingly ate many failures. 

I still love to cook. I’ll try anything and have a good feel for how flavors will blend. No need to open a can of Cream O’ Blech soup when you can whip up a bechamel. 

I’m not one of the best chefs in the world, but I get by and nobody looks askance.

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250 Words on Poor Judgment

[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’m reluctant to give criticism or advice. I will when pressed, but I always stress that my opinion is just that; please feel free to take what sounds right and forget the rest.

I have good reason for self-doubt.

Shortly after Mom’s Cancer was published, I attended New York Comic Con. My editor, Charlie Kochman, ran up holding a thick manuscript in his hands. It was a pitch from a cartoonist who’d approached my publisher’s table cold, just because he’d seen my book on its banner.

Excited, Charlie asked what I thought. I skimmed it. “I don’t get it,” I sniffed.

Later, Charlie said he’d signed that young author and asked if I’d mind sharing my honest perspective on the publishing life with him. We met at Comic Con in San Diego, sitting on the floor of the mezzanine near the Klingon booth. 

“Look,” I told the kid, trying to be encouraging but realistic. “Getting a book published is cool. You’ll meet nice people. But it won’t change your life. Nobody is going to back a money truck up to your door.”

That kid was Jeff Kinney, whose Diary of a Wimpy Kid series has sold 300 million copies worldwide and inspired several movies. Whenever Jeff and I cross paths, we laugh and laugh about how wrong I was. 

It’s a funny story with a lesson in humility I take seriously. Whatever the source of criticism or advice, take what sounds right and forget the rest. Especially if it's me. 

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Terri Libenson

I reconnected with former syndicated cartoonist and bestselling middle-grade author Terri Libenson when she did a meet-and-greet at Copperfield's Books in Petaluma, Calif. yesterday. We've known each other online for a while and met in person once at the Denver Pop Culture Con in 2019. We had time for a very nice conversation between young fans being delighted by her. Because she is delightful.

The artwork is from Terri's "Pajama Diaries" comic strip that she donated to the Cartoon Art Museum in 2020 to be auctioned off as a fundraiser. I bought it. So yesterday I took the opportunity to have her inscribe and sign it to me! A nice closed circle. 

Terri is currently on a book tour that had her doing three school visits yesterday, doing two more school visits today, and catching a flight to Australia tonight. I asked her how the life of a successful bestselling author suited her and she said she liked it fine, but I don't think I'd have the stamina for it. 

It was great to see her, and I'm very glad we had time to talk. I wish her the best of luck on her tour!

P.S.--I look unusually red and blotchy in this photo because I got a sunburn over the weekend. As a descendant of the pale pasty peoples of the icy north, I always look a little red and blotchy, but not this red and blotchy. My olive-skinned wife and daughters regard me with pity and horror.

P.P.S.--The Copperfield's bookstore in Petaluma has a big stack of "Fire Story" paperbacks that I signed while I was there, so if you want one that's a good place to find it. Please support your heroic local independent bookseller whenever you can.

250 Words on Writer's Block

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

“Only amateurs get writer's block,” said cartoonist Charles M. Schulz. “Professionals can't afford it.”

That was surprisingly uncharitable of Schulz. Still, he hit seven deadlines a week for nearly 50 years. Respect. I’ve had jobs in which I had to write so many column-inches per day to stay employed, and always managed to do it. It wasn’t necessarily creative writing, but regardless: there’s no waiting for the muse when a paycheck is on the line. 

Still, writer’s block is real, and many authors more celebrated and successful than I am have suffered from it. I haven’t. Yet. Oh, I’ve gotten stuck and stalled, but I don’t consider that a block. It’s just a problem I haven’t solved yet, and I’ve written professionally long enough to be confident I will. Somehow. Usually within a few days, when the solution seems so obvious and easy I feel stupid for having missed it. Meanwhile, I have plenty else to do.

I think most writer’s block is actually fear of imperfection. Once you set an idea down, it’s no longer the flawless notion that was in your head. My suggestion: give yourself permission to fail.

Just start, knowing it’s going to be terrible. Simply going through the motions lubricates the creative process, and it’s always easier to revise something that exists, even if it’s bad, than create something from scratch. 

If, at the end of the day, your work still stinks, throw it away and begin again tomorrow. Nothing is ever wasted, especially failure.

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250 Words on Solar Power

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

Twenty years ago, I was a science writer working for some of the top people in renewable power, energy storage, and distributed generation. I glibly described my science writing job as “taking 500 pages nobody can understand and turning them into five pages anybody can understand.” I ghostwrote articles and books on cutting-edge topics for very smart people, and considered myself an expert by proxy. 

I once asked a client what the tipping point would be for solar power’s mainstream acceptance. He replied, “You’ll know solar has made it when the environmentalists turn against it.” 

That time has passed, as some large-scale solar projects sited in deserts have been decommissioned or canceled due to their ecological impacts. However, solar photovoltaic panels are everywhere, and installed capacity has surpassed the most optimistic projections. 

When we rebuilt our house in 2018, we put solar panels on the roof. Why not? Their cost was trivial compared to that of construction. Our local power provider offered incentives to install an electric vehicle charger even though we didn’t have an EV, and again: why not? Of course, we eventually figured we should buy an EV to make use of the charger, so now we power our home and fuel a car with free photons from the sky.

I’ve noticed that whenever I drive our gas-powered car, and particularly when I refuel it, I feel a twinge of shame. This is how broad social conventions change: gradually, one early adopter at a time, and then suddenly. 

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The Madness of King Don

 

(Photo of Fort Sumter (center) is from the National Park Service; photos of Alcatraz (left) and Columbia are by me.)

Until this weekend, the stupidest thing I'd seen a president do was when Trump ordered the Army Corps of Engineers to release millions of gallons of water from two California reservoirs to fight fires in Los Angeles--after the fires were mostly out and the water in those rivers had no way to get to L.A. so it just flowed into the ocean instead.

Now I think Trump has topped himself by ordering that Alcatraz be reopened as a federal prison. Keep in mind, it got out of the prison business in 1963 because it was many times more expensive than any other prison to run and maintain. The economic argument has not improved since. 

I live in the Bay Area and have visited Alcatraz many times. It's been a national park for more than 50 years. Its infrastructure--electrical, gas, water, sewage, foundations, buildings--would all need to be redone. The only way to open a prison on Alcatraz Island would be to scrape off all the existing structures and build a new one from scratch. 

Trump ordering Alcatraz to become a prison again is exactly as stupid as ordering Fort Sumter to be recommissioned as a modern military base. It's exactly as stupid as pulling Apollo 11's command module Columbia out of the Smithsonian so NASA could send astronauts back to the Moon in it (note that Alcatraz has been out of operation longer than Columbia has!). 

This is Mad King George territory. If any Republicans ever had the guts to open Amendment 25 proceedings, this could be Exhibit A in just how detached from reality our current president is. 

250 Words on Time Slipping

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

“Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’ into the future.” –Steve Miller Band.

When I was young, every middle-aged person had lived through World War 2, and many had served in it. Today, anyone old enough to remember the war, born before say 1940, is at least 85. The Greatest Generation that endured the Depression and beat the Nazis will soon be gone.

While we are evidently cursed with short memories and need to relearn the lessons of defending freedom and fighting fascism they taught us. 

All of us are navigating our own raging rivers through time, though sometimes it feels as if we’re standing still and time is flowing through us. We peer through tiny dirty windows at eternity parading by. 

I have mixed feelings about my memories becoming history. I feel lucky to have seen Apollo astronauts walk on the Moon, as momentous a step as Lewis and Clark wading into the Pacific or Caesar crossing the Rubicon. I laughed when my daughters studied South African apartheid and I was able to show them clips of newspaper articles I’d written about divestment demonstrations at the local university. Watching documentaries on the Civil Rights or Women’s Liberation movements, it’s hard to believe they happened in my lifetime. 

When I was young, it seemed like the USA had been around forever. When I got older, I realized I’d been alive for something like one-fourth of its existence. That’s an interesting change of perspective. My country feels very young and fragile now. 

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Feeling Like an Antique

Hilarious and depressing at the same time: we were cruising a big antiques fair that took up a few blocks of downtown Petaluma, Calif., this morning, when on a table full of old magazines, newspapers, comics and prints I saw a familiar image: an 11 x 17 miniposter I made of my original "Fire Story" webcomic. I sold (or often gave) them to folks before the book came out and I had nothing else to offer. This one was inscribed to "Troy."

The story gets a little better: when I asked the proprietor what he was asking for it (it's always interesting to see what I'm worth on the open market), he broke into a smile and I realized he's a long-time fan/acquaintance and, in fact, the "Troy" to whom I signed the print. Which was not for sale. He just keeps it in that portfolio.

While I'm sure there's SOME price that would induce Troy to sell it, I didn't try to tempt him. I still have a stack of them in my studio, and can sign as many as I want.

Happy Holidays!

My day's clothing choice that started all the trouble.

My wife Karen, who keeps track of such things, tells me today is both National South Dakota Day and National Dueling Dinosaurs Day! I can connect them.

Not everyone knows that I spent my childhood in Rapid City, South Dakota. We moved to California when I was 11. I've always been proud and happy I was raised in the Midwest--I think it gave me a solid core that made me better--but also glad we left when we did. The West has a lot more opportunities for a teen and young adult.  

South Dakota is also where paleontologists have found a lot of dinosaurs, dueling and otherwise, which is a real point of local pride. In fact, high on a ridgetop above Rapid City is Dinosaur Park, topped by concrete dinos built by the WPA in the 1930s, which I remember from my childhood and revisited with my family in 2008. 

At Dinosaur Park, Rapid City, S.D. in 2008. Somewhere there exist photos of me in that same spot at the age of 4. If you're ever in the area, pay a visit. Can't miss it; just look for the apatosaurus looming over the city.

One of the wellsprings of dinosaur fossils is the Badlands National Park east of Rapid City, a geological wonderland I visited many times as a kid (don't miss the famous Wall Drug Store!). I happened to get up and put on a Badlands shirt this morning, which is why Karen told me about National South Dakota and Dueling Dinosaurs Day, which is why I wrote this post and that's the Circle of Internet Life. 

Celebrate as you see fit.

Dueling Dinosaurs at Disneyland. My understanding is that these two species were actually separated by tens of millions of years and never would have faced off in real life. Real life can be a real buzzkill sometimes.