Thank God This Year is Over

As is appropriate to a year ending in 13, this was quite simply the worst year of my life. The. Worst.

The entire first half was dedicated to learning how to walk and function again. Now, at the end of the year, at least I’m walking again although my legs are weaker. And my right arm is fully functional.

Anything good that happened this year had to do with my daughters. Shana’s theater is succeeding; Ariel graduated college; and Gwen got married. So from a family POV, it’s all been good.

Here’s praying 2014 is more decent to me personally.

PAD

“Being Stan Lee,” Part III

digresssmlOriginally published January 7, 2000, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1364

“Being Stan Lee”  (Conclusion)

Editor’s Disclaimer: The Gregor Samsa, Stan Lee, Bill Clinton, and anyone else portrayed herein are not the Gregor Samsa, Stan Lee, and Bill Clinton of Earth-Prime.

Gregor Samsa, having found himself within the head of Stan Lee, watched in amazement as Lee was face to face with a smiling Bill Clinton, leader of the free world.

“You got the desk, didn’t you,” said Lee. It wasn’t a question. Stan Lee removed his sunglasses, apparently as a gesture of respect.

Clinton chuckled. “And here I thought I’d hidden myself well enough with go-betweens. How’d you know I bought your desk at the eBay charity auction?”

“My spider-sense told me!” Lee said with a laugh. “That and the smug grin on your face, Bill.”

One Year Ago Today

One year ago today, my life fell apart.

It started with my vision on the 27th. I was convinced that I was suffering from some sort of migraines as it became increasingly difficult for me to see. By evening it was getting worse. I figured I was tired. At 2:30 in the morning I got out of bed to go to the bathroom and my right leg was no longer functioning. Believe it or not, I just thought my knee was acting up and actually crawled around to get to the bathroom and back. It wasn’t until the morning when I went to the hospital and spiraled into my new reality: I’d had a stroke.

I spent the next two months relearning how to walk and since then have striven to return to what I used to be. A year later, my legs are still weak. My endurance is not remotely what it used to be. Once upon a time, if I went into New York City, I’d walk all over the place. Now after a few blocks I’m worn out.

And every morning I still have to test my legs to see if they’re functioning. There’s always the fear that I’m going to attempt to stand up and will hit the floor. Every day.

But I should be grateful. The fans have been almost unanimously supportive. Good wishes poured in from all over the world. Book sales skyrocketed for a little while (lately not so much; it’d be nice to see a resurgence. Just saying.) And I will never forget the ovation I received when I showed up at Farpoint convention a week after being released.

Kathleen kept everyone apprised of everything that was going on and without her continued support I know I could never hope to get back to what I was. Likewise my children and family have also been incredibly supportive. And just a few weeks ago I was back in Jacksonville where I was treated and went to lunch with Ali and Sarah, two of the women who were responsible for teaching me how to recover.

And at least I’ve had the opportunity to do so. The worst day of my recovery was the day I learned that retailer Gordon Lee had died…of a stroke. I was a mess that day, wondering what the point of my attempts to walk were. I was sure that a second stroke would come at me any time, and this one would be fatal.

Well, it’s been a year. An amazingly lousy year, but positive things have happened as well. And I’m still here. So that’s something.

PAD

“Being Stan Lee,” Part II

digresssmlOriginally published December 31, 1999, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1363

“Being Stan Lee” (Part Two)

As Stan Lee roared up to the First Savings and Loan bank, Gregor Samsa—a helpless spectator within Stan Lee’s mind—watched in amazement. Stan slammed his Range Rover to a halt and had vaulted from the car before the engine noise fully faded. Crowds of people had gathered at the police barricade and, when they saw him, an excited buzz began to work its way through them. Applause began to ripple and then built, moment upon moment, to a full-fledged ovation. Stan Lee waved to them all, moving with confidence, as the barricade was parted to let him through.

Walking toward him briskly was a plainclothes, older cop who Greg immediately assumed was the “Captain Tangretti” who had summoned Stan Lee. “Thanks for coming so fast, Stan. Break any traffic laws getting here?”

“Only all of ’em,” said Stan. “So what’s the story, Jimmy?”

“Being Stan Lee,” Part I

digresssmlOriginally published December 24, 1999, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1362

“Being Stan Lee”

Gregor Samsa awoke one day to discover that he was Stan Lee.

Gregor—“Greg” to his friends—had been sorting through back-issue comics, part of his job at Ninth World Comics in Malibu. It was, however, taking Greg longer to do than usual, because he had stumbled over old issues of Fantastic Four that he remembered fondly. The storyline was the immortal “Battle of the Baxter Building” sequence, and reading those issues had led to reading others, both before and after. Childhood memories seized him, and he was transported to those pleasant recollections of the first, heady days of Marvel—back when it was the company that could do no wrong, and every issue was an infinity of possibilities.

He muttered the dialogue out loud as he read it, carried away as always by the style of the inimitable Stan Lee. So many people had tried to diminish his contributions to Marvel’s success, but there was no question that it was his voice that provided the heart and soul of the characters.

Fired by sudden inspiration, Greg used the store’s computer to go online and ran a search under the name of his creative hero. Sure enough, he was quickly led to stanlee.net. He chuckled as curtains opened on the screen and a computer cartoon of Stan Lee—recorded with Lee’s inimitable tone—welcomed him. He surveyed the options and was attracted to the entry of “free newsletter.” It was the description that caught his eye. It read, “Get wired directly to Stan all the time!”

He couldn’t pass that up. Yet, for some reason, the mouse vibrated urgently beneath his hand as he paused over the option. It seemed to be—warning him. He ignored it—and clicked on the invitation to “Get wired directly to Stan.”