Lost in Alternate Realities

I have spent as many hours as possible sitting in darkened movie theaters lost in alternate realities, and I have loved every moment of it. For a twelve-year-old boy, there was nothing better.

There weren’t many days spent in darkened theaters when I was that age. At age 12 we were living in Pointe Au Baril Station, Ontario. Our village, Pointe Au Baril Station, sits along highway 69 between Parry Sound and Sudbury. It is a small community of 300 people.

It had, and likely still has, a couple of gas stations, a liquor store, two general stores and a few marinas and lodges scattered over the North and South shores. We also had two churches, a small school, a bank, a Royal Canadian Legion Hall, and a privately ran post office/bait shop and a community center that had a few purposes. Dance place, meeting hall, and tourist information center being a few.

For me it’s most important purpose was the Friday night movie. Not quite a darkened theater. Enter the large hall with me. Sit down on a folding chair. There are always enough chairs. The old projector comes to life. The blank wall is filled with wonder.

This is also what comics did for me. I bought my comics at Higman’s Highway Market. Kennedy’s didn’t sell comics. I made my money for comics by cashing in beer bottles. The bottles were redeemed at Wing’s Shell station. No, We didn’t drink the beer … that came later.

With a summer tourist trade estimated at about 2,000 we had a lot of empties to cash in. My brother and I also had a lucrative sideline in frogs. I delivered lunches to construction crews, cut grass, tied boats, and shoveled snow. My younger brother Troy and I sold frogs to the local pool hall owner who sold them to sport fishermen as bait.

The frogs, the bottles, the snow and such helped to fill the blank canvas of a child. A mental landscape filled with Dr. Doom, a blind attorney, a playboy millionaire, and a collection of princesses, orphans, and misunderstood do-gooders. Many of those characters, and their worlds, were given form by Gene Colan.

Gene wasn’t the first artist I admired. At first I liked the cleaner lines of Curt Swan and Dick Dillon. Kirby leaped off the page for me, and then something happened. I found art that resonated. It stayed with me. It seemed to have a depth beyond the page. It flowed. It showed me a world beyond my own, and yet was reflective of that world.

Gene’s (if I may be so familiar) art allowed me to see a bit of wonder in my own reality. I didn’t need to escape as much as search.

Thank you for that clarity.

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Carrie Fisher

This is the Carrie Fisher I knew, which is to say I never knew her.

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She had a substantial contribution to the creation of characters that were part of the magic of movies which my younger brother and I enjoyed. I never crushed on Carrie fisher or Princess Leia. My heart was already divided between Tina Turner and Yvonne Craig. I loved Star Wars, and I greatly admired the courage and humour of Carrie Fisher, the author, and the woman.  She struggled and she lived fiercely, on her terms. The world has lost a fighter, an actress, a writer, a comedian and an advocate for mental health. I have nothing to add but my admiration for the choices she made. Thank You, Carrie Fisher, for your smile and your courage.

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dealing with it

My brother died recently
I haven’t dealt with it very well, unless you consider moping and generally being a pain in the ass dealing with it
I’m trying to stay outwardly relaxed as I don’t want my wife to worry about my health.
Troy was the third person in my family to die of a heart attack. Although my heart rate, various EKGs and blood pressure that’s 120/80 would seem to indicate I’m a pretty healthy guy. Unfortunately for my wife I am not a healthy pretty guy.
Focus
Now I’m trying to take time. Get my head on straight and focus on getting our course going strong
Wish me luck