250 Words on Outliving Mom

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

As of today, I have lived longer than my mother did. From now on, I will be older than she ever was.

The math checks out, but emotionally it’s impossible. Mom was a responsible grown-up adult! A bedrock wellspring of wisdom and wit! Meanwhile, I’m still pretending I know what I’m doing and making it up as I go.

Psychologists have studied the milestone. In lineages with genetic traits—I know a family in which nearly every male had a heart attack around age 60—surpassing a parent’s age can feel like cheating death or living on borrowed time. It can change your approach to risk-taking and life itself. 

My family doesn’t fit that sort of pattern, so my reaction's different. I feel more like an ancient mariner who has sailed off the edge of the map. Until today, Mom’s life always provided a subconscious polestar. Even when our courses diverged, I always knew where hers was, and measured my distance and direction against it. Now I navigate uncharted waters. “Here there be dragons!”

I wish Mom had had more time. She missed much in the past couple of decades, and now that I’m the age she was when she died, I know she wasn’t any more ready to go than I am. That makes the milestone a melancholy one.

But she prepared me well. It’s my turn to set course and sail, still making it up as I go. Second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning. 

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250 Words on Burning Out and Fading Away

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

“It’s better to burn out, than to fade away. My my, hey hey.” —Neil Young, born in 1945.

There’s an idea baked into rock and roll—a refrain, if you will—celebrating the idea that growing up is the worst thing that can happen to you. Better to go out in a blaze of glory like Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Sid Vicious or Kurt Cobain, a tragic Peter Pan, than to be wheeled on stage wheezing your greatest hits when you’re over the hill. As James Dean said, “Live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse.”

Which sounds dramatic and romantic until you grow up and still want to make a living.

“Hope I die before I get old,” sang The Who’s Pete Townsend, born in 1945. Sorry, Pete.

“I’d rather be dead than sing ‘Satisfaction’ when I’m 45,” said Mick Jagger, born in 1943. He said that in 1975. The Rolling Stones toured in 2024. Guess what their encore was.

John Lennon had a different perspective.

“I hate it,” Lennon said. “It’s better to fade away like an old soldier than to burn out… Making Sid Vicious a hero, Jim Morrison—it’s garbage to me. I worship the people who survived. Sid Vicious died for what? So that we might rock? No thank you! I’ll take the living and the healthy.” Sadly, John didn’t get to grow old. 

As someone who hopes to tell stories and get better at it until I’m ancient, I’m biased toward Lennon’s take.

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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 interaction 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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Trump vs. The Presidio

This enrages me, mostly because it hits near my home and heart. The Presidio of San Francisco is a beautiful national park at the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge and Trump just fired its entire board of directors. 

Trump has had it in for the Presidio for some time, partly because it's in Nancy Pelosi's hometown (ditto Alcatraz). It's a particularly poor target because it's actually a conservative's dream: a national park that pays for itself! The Presidio rents space to businesses, including LucasFilm's Industrial Light and Magic, and hasn't taken a penny of federal funds since 2013. If anything, it should be a right-wing model of "doing it right"! Instead, Trump seems determined to grind it into the sand. We'll see what his replacement board look like. 

The Presidio is a regional and national gem that I've explored and treasured. I can only hope, as the linked article says, that the legislation that created the Presidio Trust is robust enough to outlast a petty tyrant who's determined to destroy it out of spite. 

Karen and I, with our late dog Riley, picnicking on the Presidio parade grounds in 2023.

Henry Chamberlain

Saturday afternoon I dropped by the Charles M. Schulz Museum to see visiting cartoonist Henry Chamberlain, who was set up in the Education Room sketching pencil portraits for visitors and signing his new book George's Run, about the mid-century science fiction writer George Clayton Johnson (Twilight Zone, Star Trek, Logan's Run). 

In addition to being a cartoonist, Henry is a writer and podcaster who has interviewed me for his "Comics Grinder" YouTube program. I couldn't pass up the chance to see him in person, and we had a nice conversation. I always appreciate a chance to talk shop! Check out his website: https://comicsgrinder.com/

Copperfield's Report

In the window at Copperfield's Books in Santa Rosa, Calif., my favorite heroic local independent bookseller.

Last night's Mom's Cancer talk and signing at Copperfield's in Santa Rosa was terrific! One of the best I've had in a long time. I didn't get a head count but would guess a few dozen...? As Karen said, you know it's going well when the bookstore has to roll away bookcases and find more chairs to handle the standing-room audience.

What made it great were the people who came: friends, neighbors, former coworkers, fellow cartoonists, an artist I haven't seen since we were in high school art class together, my sister Brenda (who had someone ask her to autograph their book, which I loved!), and even some people I DIDN'T know! They comprised a real "world's collide" cross-section of my life that showed up to support me, and that meant a lot.

Thanks to Leo from Copperfield's for hosting the event, glad we could sell a few books for you. Leo will also be selling books for my next scheduled public event on Saturday, May 16 at 2 p.m. at the Charles M. Schulz Museum. If you couldn't make this one, I hope to see you there!

Leo gave me a warm and flattering introduction. He and I have been through a few books together.

A different angle from the audience as I was getting started.

Monty Monty is a local assemblage sculptor who does beautiful work. We were in high school together but only really connected on Facebook in recent years. This was our first face-to-face in mmfty decades. He's one of two people I knew back then who've gone on to become a professional fine artist, which I respect tremendously. Check out http://www.montymontyart.com/

I was very happy to see my cartooning pal Lex Fajardo, creator of the "Kid Beowulf" comic and editor at the Schulz Studio. We don't exactly have a pact, but I think we try to show up for each other when we can, and I appreciate it! Check out https://kidbeowulf.com/

Interview with Publishers Weekly

Here's an interview with me about Mom's Cancer posted yesterday by Publishers Weekly, THE industry journal of the book business. Writer Dean Simons and I had a good, long conversation that he condensed into this article that hits the high points.

I didn't mention it earlier because it appeared to be behind a paywall, and when you click that link you, too, will hit a paywall that reads "PW Pro Content." But I think I stumbled onto a glitch: if you click on the "Questions?" prompt on that pop-up screen, it opens a new tab while revealing the article on the original tab! So just click back to that first tab and it should/might be there.

If you want to go to the trouble.

Getting a write-up in PW is a big deal because booksellers, librarians, critics, and other people in publishing pay attention to it. I'm grateful! 

Wednesday on the Hornet

Snapped this photo of Pathfinder 1 with the USS Hornet while Laura and I were walking to lunch. Wish I'd had the timing or presence of mind to be closer to the Hornet; without all the road and fencing in the foreground, it would have been a real postcard photo!

I spent a few hours aboard the USS Hornet  Sea, Air and Space Museum today, consulting on updates they're making to their Apollo exhibits, to which I contributed 14 or so years ago. It was a beautiful day on the Bay, highlighted by a rare appearance by the Pathfinder 1 Zeppelin, the first rigid airship of its type to fly since the Graf Zeppelin II in 1939. 

I've seen plenty of blimps but don't think I've ever seen a real rigid airship before. The Pathfinder is a pet project of billionaire Sergey Brin and is about half the length of the Hindenburg, which must have been extra awesome in its day because Pathfinder was plenty impressive enough.

It felt especially meaningful for me to revisit Hornet's Apollo exhibits as Artemis returns from the Moon (Hornet was the ship that recovered Apollos 11 and 12 from the Pacific in 1969). I worked on my little project, took my museum-CEO daughter to lunch, and headed home, all the time thinking about the Moon and the 57 years between then and now.

Among the Hornet's artifacts are an Apollo command module boilerplate--a prototype used for testing (CM-011 if anyone wants to look it up)--and a Sea King helicopter, the same type used to recover Apollo 11 and 12. The actual helicopter used in those missions crashed in the '70s. This one is the same model that was painted to look like the original for use in the movie "Apollo 13."

The Hornet also as the Mobile Quarantine Facility (i.e., Airstream trailer) used for Apollo 14, as well as one of the Biological Isolation Garments the astronauts donned to protect the Earth from potential Moon germs. (Spoiler alert: there weren't any Moon germs, but they weren't sure of that at the time.)

The Hornet is closed to the public on Wednesdays, but it would be a lie to claim I was alone. There were museum staffers on hand plus two school buses worth of students. However, an aircraft carrier, even an old one like the Hornet, is big enough to swallow a hundred people without a belch, and once in a while you can still get half a hangar deck all to yourself.

San Francisco shining across the Bay, featuring three modes of transportation: rigid airship high in the sky, ferry plying the waters toward Alameda, and, in the distance above the city, a red Coast Guard helicopter.

Copperfield's Book Event, April 9

North Bay Friends! A reminder that I will be doing a talk and book signing for the Mom's Cancer Anniversary Edition Thursday night, April 9, 7 p.m. at Copperfield's Books in Santa Rosa, Calif. Copperfield's is a terrific independent bookstore chain, and my event will be at their Montgomery Village shop.

I don't have many personal appearances on the calendar, so take advantage of the rare opportunity! I'll be happy to sign any of my books, or even anyone else's. I'm not too picky or proud.

Copperfield's is asking people to RSVP at this link, although I promise that nobody who shows up without a reservation will be turned away. Hope to see you there, thanks!

Artemis Earthset

Just made this my new monitor background image. I like it more than the better-publicized close-up photo of Artemis's Earthset you're seeing today. I think it provides more scale and perspective, plus from a practical POV it has a lot of neutral gray that makes my desktop icons pop. What a view, what a thrill, what a time to be alive!

By the way, it took me longer than it should have to find a reasonable-quality version of this photo. NASA is sharing all their best stuff at this link.

250 Words on Overwriting

[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 made this letter longer than usual because I did not have time to make it short.” --Blaise Pascal

I tend to overwrite. I learned that about myself in my first job out of college as a reporter for a small daily newspaper. I also learned to use it to my advantage, and made it part of my writing process. 

For example, when I write a first draft and check my word count, I'm very happy if it comes out 10 to 20 percent long. I know I can tighten it into a nice lean piece that clearly says what it must and nothing else. That's my goal.

On the other hand, if my first draft comes up 10 or 20 percent short, I’m in trouble. Padding is agony.

That’s even more true in comics. I’m a words-first cartoonist, which means I script my story and then draw it. I’ve known pictures-first cartoonists who work out their story as they draw, which to me is voodoo. My scripts look like a theatrical play or screenplay: very lean, mostly dialog with some descriptions, directions and doodles. 

Once I have a script, I go through every line to find opportunities to show instead of tell, deleting any text I can replace with art. My ideal comic is one in which half the meaning is conveyed with words, half with pictures, and neither makes complete sense without the other. 

I don’t always achieve that ideal, but when I do it’s enormously gratifying. 

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Artemis II

I'm utterly absorbed by NASA's live coverage of the Artemis mission today, as the spacecraft takes a long loop around the back side of the Moon. 

I confess I doubted that having the crew take turns looking out the window and describing what they see would have any real scientific value. I couldn't imagine what they'd see that hadn't already been photographed close-up by other missions like Apollo or the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO), which has photographed every inch of the lunar surface. 

But I'm convinced that their perspective is unique and has unique value. LRO sees trees, the astronauts are looking at the forest. And regardless of whatever scientific value their observations have, the feeling of being there with them is priceless. It's riveting.

250 Words on the Colbert Questionert: Part Two

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

Talk show host Stephen Colbert sometimes asks his guests to take the “Colbert Questionert,” which he says is meant to reveal a person’s soul but is mostly for fun. Since Colbert’s “Late Show” ends on May 21, I’m giving it a go here. I answered half the questions last week; here are the rest. 

Favorite smell? Cinnamon rolls rising on Grandma's fireplace hearth.

Least favorite smell? Mercaptans, because if you can detect their sulfurous rotten-egg scent you’re probably near a dangerous gas leak. 

Flat or sparkling? Flat is fine, but I’ll take sparkling if offered.

Most used app on your phone? Texting and Facebook are my boring answers. My less-boring answer is Flightradar24. 

Window or aisle? Window. No matter how often I fly, soaring over the clouds is always a thrilling miracle. 

You get one song to listen to for the rest of your life, what is it? Beethoven’s 9th Symphony, all four movements. That counts as one song, right?

The one thing you own that you should really throw out? Artifacts we dug out of the ashes of our fire that have been sitting in bins we haven’t had the heart to open.

What number am I thinking of? 137.

Describe the rest of your life in five words? About the same but better.

I am a fan of Colbert’s, and I’d be sadder and angrier about his show’s cancellation if I weren’t sure he will soon be doing something even greater. Best wishes to him and his staff. 

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Comics 4 All Podcast

I had a great time Sunday afternoon doing a LIVE podcast for Jameson Rohrer's "Comics 4 All" show. Jameson is a librarian with a passion for comics in general and graphic medicine in particular, so we took some deep dives into those subjects plus pretty much my entire life as a cartoonist. 

Two notes: 

1. The Australian psychiatrist whose name I couldn't remember at 24:40 is Neil Phillips. To be fair to me, I haven't seen him in nine years. To be critical of me, I bought two pieces of artwork from him, so I probably should have been able to conjure his name.

2. I didn't realize until I watched some of the replay that I was blinking weird. I just want to reassure viewers that my twitchiness is not due to an undiagnosed neurological condition, but because I have terrible hay fever irritating my eyes right now and my choice was to either blink weird or claw at my corneas with my fingernails. I think I chose wisely.

Thanks to Jameson for the invitation and his time, I appreciate it!

No Kings Day 2026

Karen and I getting into position for the start of the march. My "Antifa" sign got some attention from people who said they'd also had relatives who served in World War II and had partly come to honor them, as I did. Grandpa fought fascism; I figure I owe it to him to do the same.

Karen and I made a little good trouble in Santa Rosa, Calif. this afternoon. Our daughters were also with us, but I only post photos of them (as adults) with their permission, which I definitely didn't have. Demonstrators gathered in two areas and then converged on Old Courthouse Square in the center of the city. 

Police estimate attendance at 6,000; the local newspaper says 12,000. I honestly lean toward the lower end of that range, but will say that I've been in that square for a lot of events, including a past demonstration that drew about 5,000 people, and it was much more packed than I've ever seen it. Like a summer Saturday at Disneyland. 

This stream of demonstrators, which included us, approached from the south. Another stream approached from the north. We converged in the heart of the city.

A giant bird marionette in Santa Rosa's Old Courthouse Square. Contrary to common belief, the building with the clock tower in the background is NOT the old courthouse, which was razed decades ago. However, that building, which is called the Empire Building, does make a cameo in Hitchcock's "Shadow of a Doubt," so I like to include it as a landmark when I can.

As always, demonstrators were good-natured good citizens. Karen and I both thought that the march wasn't as well organized or policed as past marches. There was some poor traffic control and confusion. Organizers needed more people shepherding the crowd.

Quibbles. As our family discussed afterward, the real value of these things isn't imagining that the four of us made a real difference. It's being part of a community. Letting each other know we're not alone. Being a pebble in an avalanche, a snowflake in a blizzard. 

That's worthwhile--at least it's worth a couple of hours on a nice Saturday afternoon.

I ran into two good old friends, Jana and Bill. Nearly forty years ago we were all chemists working in the same lab. Bill in particular was sort of a mentor to me. Now none of us is still a chemist and we meet up at demonstrations. Two of the smarter and better people I know.

I liked this.

A slightly higher, standing-on-a-planter-box angle on Old Courthouse Square as it filled up.

Mom's Cancer in the Press Democrat

My hometown newspaper, the Santa Rosa Press Democrat, published a feature today about me and the Mom's Cancer Anniversary Edition. Writer Dan Taylor has been a real champion of local arts in general and comics in particular, and it was good to talk to him again.

Dan also interviewed my friend MK Czerwiec, who did me the favor of writing a new foreword for my book. I wasn't surprised that Dan quoted MK, since I asked her permission to give Dan her contact info, but I was surprised he also reached out to librarian, teacher, and graphic medicine wrangler Matthew Noe, who luckily for me also said nice things. Thanks to them both!

Two quick stories about the photo. Photographer John Burgess, who is a pro's pro, came to my studio and tried to wring some liveliness out of me. He was joking "Work it, work it!" and got me laughing, until I said to him, "Here's the thing. I don't want to look like I'm yucking it up promoting a book about my mother's cancer." John immediately switched gears. "Got it. Mona Lisa smile." Click.

Second story about the photo is that in the top left corner you can see an out-of-focus stained-glass hummingbird hanging in my studio window. Mom made that, and my sisters graciously gave it to me after the fire. If you'd like to interpret that as Mom literally watching over my shoulder, be my guest.

PNW

Karen and I are home from a vacation in the Pacific Northwest to celebrate our anniversary. We spent three days in Seattle and two in Victoria B.C. I figure you don't really want to hear a long travelogue or see my 200-photo slide show, so just assume we saw and did all the things, got lucky with the weather, and had a great time.

Instead, I'll tell three stories in two photos. First is a spray of glass flowers by Dale Chihuly at the base of the Space Needle. Karen and I agree that the Chihuly Garden was a breathtaking highlight of our trip, a guaranteed must-see. 

Second is two stories in one photo. Story 1: there's a great bookstore in Victoria called Munro's that had one copy of the "Mom's Cancer Anniversary Edition." So if any readers in the vicinity want an autographed copy of the book, Munro's has one. I didn't stealth-sign it; I asked a clerk (I'm always astonished that when I say "I wrote this book, do you want me to sign it?" nobody ever asks for I.D.) and they put a sticker on it, so it's official. 

Story 2: We discovered a neat little hat shop in Victoria called Roberta's, where I finally found a hat I like. I've been looking for one for a long time, but choosing a hat is no simple chore. It's more like the hat has to choose you. So I explained to the clerk that I used to have a fedora-like hat I loved but lost years ago, and I've been looking for one since. I tried on the one I'm wearing in the photo and said, "I like it, but I don't want to look like Indiana Jones."

She replied, "Oh, I don't think you could ever look like Indiana Jones."

To which I said, "Thanks, that's very nice--HEY!!"

But she was good-natured about it so, despite the insult, I bought the hat. 

Good trip.

250 Words on the Colbert Questionert: Part One

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

Talk show host Stephen Colbert sometimes challenges his guests to take the “Colbert Questionert,” which he says is meant to reveal a person’s soul but is mostly for fun. Since Colbert’s final “Late Show” episode airs May 21, I will never get the opportunity to have him quiz me (as if I had a chance otherwise), so I’ll share my answers here. 

His questions vary, but have included: 

Best sandwich? Reuben, although I could make a case for classic grilled cheese.

First concert? In high school, I took my friend Andrea to see Victor Borge. We were nerds. He was great.

Scariest animal? The spiny candiru fish of the Amazon, which reputedly swims upstream into human urethras, although scientists say those claims are exaggerated. 

Apples or oranges? I like both but if forced to choose: apples.

Cats or dogs? I have loved both but if forced to choose: dogs. 

Earliest memory? I remember climbing out of my crib.

Exercise: worth it? Absolutely! That doesn’t mean I will do it.

Have you ever asked someone for their autograph? Apollo astronaut Dick Gordon signed a model of his command module for me. Generally, autographs don’t mean much to me. I’d rather have a conversation. 

What happens when we die? I think we are the sum of the thoughts, personality, knowledge, and memories contained in our brains, and when our brains are gone, so are we. There's beauty in that. 

Favorite action movie? “Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

More Colbert Questionert next week!

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250 Words on Reframing

[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 read about a foreign diplomat who met with the elders of a remote village and was offered a cup of tea. The tea was a revolting, nearly undrinkable sludge, but it would have been a grievous insult to refuse. 

“Then,” he said something like, “I found that if I didn’t think of it as tea but rather as soup, it was actually pretty good.”

That stayed with me. Adjusting your perception of a situation can entirely change your feelings about it.

For example, we’ve all had a driver speed past us, weaving dangerously through traffic just to get a minute ahead. “They must be a surgeon on their way to an emergency operation,” I joke to anyone in the car, but I’m half-serious. I remember driving through the city at 2 a.m. to get to my wife in the hospital before my daughters were born, and strictly following traffic laws was not my top priority. 

Yes, the driver in that careening car is probably an angry, rude, arrogant idiot. But I don’t know that, or them, or what’s going on in their life. I might have looked exactly like them racing to the hospital in the middle of the night. Since I can’t do anything about it anyway, reframing the situation is a good way to get on with my day a bit less stressfully. 

I don’t know you. You don’t know me. Nobody’s always at their best. Let’s try to afford each other a bit of grace. 

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