Blue Moon Blog

I’ve written plenty about it here on this blog in previous posts, but it feels important to mark the day, as it’s been one year since I slid sideways on a snowmobile into a tree. T’was a life changing event, and while I was aware of that fact mere moments after impact, even while I was trying to begin to breathe again, it’s become clear a year later now I didn’t really know the full extent of what I was in for.

I’m no spring chicken at 46, so my bones are healing a lot more slowly than docs expected and I hoped. On certain days, I still experience sharp pains along my sternum and ribs below my left chest, some days my nerves are raw, feeling nearly nearly exposed on the surface. Now, that may be because I slept in a certain position; or ’cause it’s damp or due to the barometric pressure; it may be because I exerted myself during light exercise or picked up a kid when I probably shouldn’t have. And sometimes it’s just ’cause.

At times the physical pain triggers anxiety, or vice versa. I can be panicky whether I got a good night of sleep or not. Even though I’m getting better and am on a general upwards trajectory, there are moments I wish a could take a mulligan, have a do-over. It doesn’t happen often and I don’t let those thoughts linger - what’s the point? But it’s apparent the ramifications for me and my family will be felt for a while yet, perhaps for years or the rest of my life.

Knowing that, it’s a blessing to be reminded by friends and family that they’re glad I’m still here. One friend on Facebook pointed out to me that those in the military who’ve had close calls acknowledge it with what they call Alive Day. Upon reading more about it, I’ve discovered it extends beyond the military, so there’s no reason it can’t apply to me. We’ll see if it helps me in future years to be that aware, or better to just let it pass and fade. Either way, I try to remember each day my good fortune and blessings.

It’s good to be alive.

Man, Earl & Mooch are right - 2009 did fly by! This seems more and more true as we get older. When I was a kid in kindergarten, I couldn’t wait to grow up, to be able to do the stuff 4th-graders and 8th-graders got to do. Time seemed to move by slow as molasses, certainly not fast enough for me.

Of course, now as an adult, which each passing year, time flies by. Our daughters were just babies and now, seemingly in an instant their growing into young ladies. For us aging parents, with so much to do, so many responsibilities in a face-paced world, time is here and gone. The perception of the passage of time is so subjective depending on attitudes, situations and age.

The comic strip above rings especially true to our family this past year, given my snowmobile accident in March and anxiety/panic issues from May through the present. Events and trips had to be canceled, and I spent much of the Summer in a daze, trying to be positive, let the meds work their magic, get back to sleep, feel more normal and to being more productive. And due to my health issues, the whole year passed quickly and effected the whole family. It was a blur, in so many ways.

So, we’re hoping 2010 progresses at a more leisurely clip, that we’re able to stop and take it in and enjoy it all and each other. We hope for more balance, and wish the same for you.

One more note: when I as having the most trouble sleeping, even with sleep aids, as I laid me down to sleep my mind raced with negative and frightful thoughts. Though I was encouraged by professionals to try meditative recordings to get myself ready for sleep, I couldn’t break the life-long habit of reading before bed. But it became clear quickly nearly everything I was reading would trigger some anxiety. Even Peanuts was too existential for me! For many weeks, the one thing I could read before bed was Mutts. The strip is so simple, sweet, poetic and comforting, it was just what I needed, and I made my way from book one again to the latest collection. It’s one of the greatest comic strips of all time, a throwback to strips of old, and it looks like McDonnell will not flame out after a decade, but continue for years to come. If you haven’t read it before, or for a while, pick up one of the books, check it out in the paper, or via the Mutts site, subscribe and get it delivered to you via email every morning.

I strongly recommend it. It’s good for the heart and soul.

Sure, 2009 was a rough tumble of a year in many respects for many people across the globe, and certainly was for us personally, the Blue Moon Crew. But for all the challenges and difficulties, we find much for which to be grateful.

Our family is healthy (or getting healthier). We have plenty of creature comforts, even as we’ve tightened our belt. Our Blue Moon Daughters are growing evermore to be smart, funny, talented, confident and independent individuals. Mary and I marked our twentieth wedding anniversary (even if we weren’t able to celebrate or spend it as we would have liked), and during a time of crisis and hardship have become closer than ever.

We’re still drawing away, doing what we love most to do, both to sustain ourselves and our family, and ourselves creatively. And as 2010 rolls out, my Night of the Bedbugs children’s book arrives on the scene! So we’re excited about what the New Year will bring, stepping out of the dark, even if as with baby steps, to gaze upon and steep ourselves in what we trust will be better and brighter times.

Don’t forget to look for the blue moon tonight, a special rare occurrence in this case, as a New Year’s Eve blue moon will not happen again for about another twenty years.

And the illustration above was done by one of the greatest American illustrators of all time, J. C. Leyendecker. A book dedicated to his work and life has finally been compiled and released, long overdue. I highly recommend you pick up a copy, and if you click the link, you can order it through our amazon/Blue Moon Store to support this blog. (Personally, I’m perusing a copy now I picked up at the library.)

So, we wish for you, our world, all peoples, peace, safety and health, contentment and happiness in the coming year. Happy Blue Moon New Year to one and all!

On this Thanksgiving weekend, I want to extend the thanks we gave as a family ’round the dinner table on the holiday itself. So, I want to give thanks:

• …for my life, especially after hitting that tree while snowmobiling in March.

• …that I’ve been healing since both body and mind, with the help and care of my family, the patient and kind attention of many doctors and nurses, and the thoughtful support of my many friends, extended family and relatives.

• …for my wife, Mary, my cornerstone, without whom I’m not sure what I would have done or how I’d make it through my most desperate and anxious moments. She’s been loving and super-patient during my sickness, in ways she couldn’t have anticipated even when saying her vows now over twenty years ago. It wasn’t the ideal 20th Anniversary, Sweetie, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.

• …to my daughters, Laura and Emily, whom I’ve no doubt given quite a scare. Thanks for all the hugs, kisses and other various subtle and overt expressions of love. You gals make me smile, keep me on my toes, and challenge me to strive to be a better Dad.

• …that Blue Moon Studios has had enough work to get through a difficult time personally, during rough economic times. What a blessing that Mary and I can work together at home, in studio, drawing away for most of the last twenty-five years. Seriously, we get to draw and color and paint and do what we love for a living! Through all the ups & downs, the roller coaster freelance lifestyle, we consider ourselves fortunate.

• …that the children’s book I’ve worked at on and off for years, Night of the Bedbugs found a publisher in Image/Silverline. Thanks to Jim Valentino and Kris Simon, and the advice of Alex Grecian, Larry Marder, and once again, my wife, Mary, (who I really should listen to more).

• …to my creative collaborators, past, present and future, as there is more work to be done, more comics to make.

• …to all of you readers, fellow artists, fans and friends. Thanks for being here, there and everywhere.

Paul

I had a fine time at another MN MicroCon comics show Sunday. I was pleased to visit with friends visiting from out of town once again, and to catch up so many good friends and artists from right here in the Twin Cities I don’t seem to see often enough. Actually, I’m pleased I was able to stand upright, still on medication and healing after my recent accident.

My old Trollords partner and pal, Scott Beaderstadt was doing gangbusters business at the table next to mine, selling tons of art prints, sketches and original art.

He drove up from Chicago with our buddy, Keith, who runs one of finest comic shops in Illinois.

My daughter, Emily and renowned convention “Cookie Girl” had some drawing pointers for “Uncle Picklehead,” but I’m not sure how receptive he was to the constructive criticism. Emily was hard at work the week before the preparing cookie batter, then baking up about 150 of her patented Funky Monkey Cookies, selling out of all four flavors.

Taking a walk around the show, we saw:

Booster Gold creator, artist and writer, Dan Jurgens surrounded by ardent fans…

…Irredeemable (Boom! Studios) artist Peter Krause and Gordon Purcell apparently in some sort of contest for the best Paul Lynde impersonation…

…Sam Hiti, best known for Lemony Snicket comics and the superb End Times: Tiempos Finales. Keep an eye out — he has new books out in June...

…the unrelated Zander & Kevin Cannon of Big Time Attic. Visit their site to learn about their myriad 2009 releases, and previous and upcoming projects.

…Scooby Doo scribe and City Pages Best Wrestler, Terrance “Spider-Baby” Greip…

…old pal, Prime co-creator Professor Len Strazewski…

…Matt Wendt and Becky Grutzik of Planet Doom Studios, and their alternately cute and bloody Peep comics, and other projects…

…and a cornucopia of costumed attendees:

Fun was had by all! I was juggling bedbugs beanbags, and from the looks of it, more than a little hopped up on Percocet:

See you all in the Fall!

Accident and Damage

Three weeks ago, trying to have some fun in another Minnesota Winter, while snowmobiling I slid sideways into a tree. The machine emerged relatively unscathed. I wasn’t so lucky, taking the brunt of the impact. Ouch!

Since then, I’ve been through the emergency room, two three-day hospital stays, untold amounts of x-rays, CAT Scans, got to know well numerous nurses, doctors and radiological technicians, and have been kept on a steady diet of an assortment of drugs. I broke my clavicle, nine ribs and messed up my left lung, and had inserted in my side a chest tube to drain unwelcome fluids from around my lung so it could restore itself more fully to its previous puffy state.

The only way to advance through something like this is to take it a moment at a time; deal with each new pain, every situation as it comes. My body has responded pretty well throughout to such a brutal onslaught, and emotionally I’ve been OK through most of it, but I’ve not held up well at times, feeling very anxious and even once having a full blown panic attack. My first, and not fun. Not recommended.

Work and Recovery

So, given my condition I’ve been forced to relax, reading stacks of books and watching shows and old movies I haven’t seen in a while or have never seen. Despite having to take it easy and recuperate, I also felt it best to continue to work when and if I could, so Mary and I proceeded on a storyboard job, for which I drew both from home and at the hospital. Our long-time client in this case left it up to us whether we felt we could still take it on, and trusted us to finish it well and on time. Though there were days I could only muster drawing for only an hour or two, I’ve put in about a half day a few times. Next week I’ll begin work on a larger comic book project for a prominent company, for which I think I’ll be in better shape.

Consequences and Aftermath

Minutes after I hit the tree, a flurry of thoughts shot through my mind: plans for the night were ruined; guilt for putting out friends and family for the night and beyond; work schedules would be affected; visit and travel plans would have to be canceled; money strains and worries loomed large in an instant. Disability insurance for freelancers like us is very expensive, so we don’t have that to lean on. But I count my blessings that: I didn’t hurt myself even worse; was able to work a bit; I can tag team with my artist wife to share the workload in a pinch; we got through this without turning down work or letting down clients; and was able to secure further work during a chaotic time.

What I regret most is making a bad choice and big mistake that has had such an impact on Mary and my daughters. All this has been hard on them, and a tremendous burden on Mary, who’s been my rock and lifeline. Sorry, girls…and thanks. It’s such a relief to me I’m feeling a bit better and we’re getting back into the swing and something of a normal routine. I love you gals.

And for the rest of you, let’s be careful out there.

I was probably born with the artistic gene. But if that spark was ignited at conception, was indeed ingrown and imprinted in my DNA, surely it was nurtured and encouraged by the two who brought me into this world in the first place and raised me: Mom & Dad.

My siblings and I all benefited from this impulse in them, to instill in us and pass on an appreciation for the arts as well as to create. Music was playing in the house all the time. My mom, Janet, was a fan of a singer of standards, tenor John Gary. She also loved musicals, and we watched plenty growing up. My Dad, Richard, has eclectic tastes. I recall my parents dancing in our conservative household to the soundtrack from Hair! We heard classical (Schubert and more), country (Roger Miller, Marty Robbins and more), jazz (Dave Brubeck and more), and many other artists from many genres: Harry Belafonte, Joe Cocker, Randy Newman, Harry Nilsson, Tina Turner, and the list goes on.

Any time any one of us showed an interest in art or music, they not only encouraged us, they went above and beyond the call. All the kids in my family drew or sculpted, played an instrument and/or sang. When I asked them if I could get organ lessons, they decided to buy a piano. My Mom and I would take the train to downtown Chicago for weekly lessons at the American Conservatory of Music, where my sister also later studied. So I began writing songs at age nine or ten, and seriously at seventeen, and still write, play and sing to this day, a valuable creative and emotional outlet.

My three siblings attended classes Saturday mornings across the street at The Art Institute of Chicago. Ironically, I was the only who didn’t like it there, and lasted only one class, if that. We were all encouraged to participate in citywide art fairs and competitions, leading to the Buckingham Art Fair, again in downtown Chicago every Summer. (Each of my siblings won ribbons and awards for their work. Me? Not so much.)

When I became crazy about comic books, my Dad took me on my first trip to a comic book shop (Joe Sarno’s Comic Kingdom). And when a simple enthusiasm and hobby evolved quickly into a downright obsession, my folks made sure I was able to visit my first comic book convention, which I attended for years, eventually appearing behind the table as a professional. When I self published my own comic book, I couldn’t have had bigger boosters, my Mom while at work proudly displaying her Trollords button on her lapel.

Because of their tremendous support, especially during the crucial early and formative years of childhood, I was able to develop skills that paved the way for my creative life and career. We try to do the same for our kids, not only with art and music, but for whatever in which they show an interest or passion. If we do half as good a job as my folks, we’ll be all right. Thanks, Mom and Dad.