In Which I Admit To My Elephant in the Blog

       Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors. David Dowd turned me on to him waaay back in 1989 during one of our infamous stints as camp counselors at Camp Glisson. David had started reading some comic called Sandman. One or two issues and I was sucked into Gaiman’s writing where stories were told against the backdrop of dreams. One of my favorite supporting characters was Lucien the Librarian of the Dream Realm. Lucien was responsible for sorting and keeping not just all the stories ever told but also those that were “dreamed off.”  Needless to say, Lucien had a pretty big library complete with what David and I referred to as the Stephen King Wing.

 

 

 

            I share this because it sort of sets up my line of thinking. My last blog was in March and so much has happened since then. Loads of rich materials for me to mine for some great stories have passed back and forth in front of me. Don’t think I haven’t sat there and tried to weave a few new stories to share. Over the past two weeks, I have my share of blogs for Lucien to keep track of. There are at least three unfinished blogs stored on my jump drive. Frankly, I have worries this one won’t make it either.

            At first, I just chalked it up to lack of focus. No one has ever accused Robby Richardson of being highly focused and motivated. After that, I just figured I was swamped between school, getting the kids to where they needed to be, dialysis needs, and preparing for Mary’s wedding.  That wasn’t it either.

            My problem is actually quite ironic in that I had always hoped my blog would gather a small following but I never anticipated it being used against me or my family. I started this blog several months before I met my now lovely talented wife Kim. She also writes an outstanding blog. For the first time in my life, I really enjoyed the actual process of writing and then sharing which helped me to grow. Historically, when I write, I come up with a topic and if it sticks in my head for a bit, I just sit down and try to write as honestly as possible.

            Many moons ago, I wrote about an individual who kept popping up into our lives in a non-productive manner and I used this blog twice as a forum to vent my frustrations. In spite of never actually naming this individual or using any real information that could be linked to him, this leads to Kim in court mediation. The bottom line means Kim has agreed to no longer use this individual’s name in her blog and I have also followed suit. (Ironically, I have never actually used his name but stuck to the nick name, “The Lurker”.)

            This is the hard part to talk about. First, I don’t like to be told what to do especially when expressing myself. I had considered dropping the blog for quite some time. Truth be told, I was actually a small part of the equation and most of this court stuff was focused on Kim. I think my part was more of an afterthought by the lurker so I have tried to support my wife by not rocking the boat.

            It may sound odd but it’s hard to write in your own voice while second guessing all that you write. I’d ask myself as I type, “If I type this, can it be turned back on Kim and myself?” I also found myself trying to find clever ways to strike back. “Look at my beautiful family,” I’d think. “See what you missed out on?” But as I’d write, I began to see how this thinly veiled form of contempt began to poison my writing. I wasn’t just playing the Lurker’s game but allowing myself to get sucked in. I tried to write about other things going on but somehow I always returned to a dig at the Lurker.

            You never saw any of those blogs. Those guys have gone the way of the dodo. I’m glad I never printed those. I told some pretty neat stories like going to the Daddy-Daughter Dance with Roni, Kim’s Mother Day, Free Comic Book Day with Jude and his cousins, and my sister’s awesome wedding. Yet as special as these moments were to me, the writing was tainted by my constant need to thumb my nose at the Lurker as he frustrated my wife and upset our statjus quo. That’s not right and I freely admit it. It’s also not right to you as a reader. I have tried to share anecdotes about my life and the joys of being a step-dad and I allowed pettiness cloud my judgment.

            I don’t apologize for the previous entries. They were written honestly and from my heart. I didn’t lie or do those original blogs to call anyone out. There was no malice involved. It was an honest peek into the Life of Robby on that particular day. I won’t allow myself to say I’ll never write another entry like those again either. If I do, I do promise that it’s done because it’s a relevant situation and not a way to get a dig in. It’s taken me a few months to get here but I’d like to think by calling out the elephant in the room, I can move ahead as a writer and a storyteller. From here on out, I plan to keep writing without fear of reprisal and more importantly,not using my stories as a weapon.

            I’d also like to reiterate something I wrote a long time ago. My hand is always outstretched to work together, Mr. Lurker. For the sake and well being of those two little beings that I love dearly, I’ll gladly put myself out on a limb and always will. We don't have to agree but when we bicker, it's the kids who pay the price. Meet me halfway, dude....

 

 

            Now if you’ll excuse me folks, it’s my first day of summer break and I have a young lady I promised to take to lunch with her mother. Summer is here and it’s time to make it count…..

Living up to a Promise of Magic & Surprises....

           My mother has always been on the go. She spends little time at home unless it’s she has to work the next day at Hospice. If she’s not at work, Mom is off seeing shows at the Lucas, trying new places to eat here and around Savannah, and going on long and interesting trips with He-who-shall-not-be-named.

            The Big Guy had a different approach. He worked hard so when he had time off, it was spent working around the house. If he wasn’t dragging me off into the woods to cut a load of firewood, Dad was tinkering/building stuff. As a result, thee house in Young Harris had a river rock raised deck, Mary had a gazebo, and we even had a waterfall. Granted this waterfall only worked after five o’ clock when the citizens of Young Harris started up their dishwashers and showers for the evening. The Big Guy figured out into how to tap the overflow area of the city water supply which ran right beside out house. I’ve priced these fountains at Home Depot which has forced to admit the genius in this plan.

            As I have gotten older, it has come to my attention how I am an amalgam of these two people. I love the idea of going out but when it comes down to execution, I just want to stick around the house in my DC comics pajama bottoms and my oversized long john short I got at Goodwill. I am a closet homebody and openly admit it.

            When I moved back to Savannah five years ago, I used to shrug off going out because I had “school tomorrow” or something “was due for my Master’s.” It became my go to phrase and I actually began to believe it. This all accelerated as I got sicker from not taking care of my kidney disease.

            Realizing that I had been like this for a very long time was just one of the many things I saw wrong with me as I began to pick of the pieces. I looked back at my first marriage with Satan’s Step daughter and recognized I never went out with her very much. Granted the destinations were always her choice but I began to see a pattern. I was becoming a recluse. All I needed was the millions of dollars, long beard and assorted jars of urine.

            That was the old Robby. The new Robby is always on the go. To quote an old Calvin & Hobbes book, the days are just packed. Mondays is Jude’s Karate as is Tuesdays and Fridays. Tuesdays and Thursdays alternate between Roni’s Horseback riding and Girl Scouts.

            The weekends are the best. We are all over the place. This time of year is my favorite in Savannah because of a festival every weekend. So far this year, we’ve gone to Picnic in the Park, the Greek Festival, and of course, Pirate Fest. Or social calendar is booked through Christmas at this point and I love it.

Fourth of July Road Trip to SC

 

            There is also a ritual that seems to happen every time the Richardson-Yanceys take to the streets. No matter how early of a start, we are always 30 mins late at least. At some point during loading up, one of the kids proceeds to hit a meltdown which launches either Kim or me into Def-con 5. There is usually an argument during the car ride about car temperature/music choice. (I refuse to listen to Pop music which appears to be the official soundtrack to eleven year old girls everywhere.) We arrive and have a blast which wipes away all the frustrations so Kim and I find ourselves doing the same thing the next week.

            There is also another part which has organically evolved and it’s become the best part. We’ll be sitting at whatever function we’re attending and the kids will be off in their own little world. Kim comes up to me, sometimes she squeezes my hand which is always the sign that she is very happy with me, “Thanks for bringing us, Honey. I have always wanted to do this. “

            My reply is always the same. “I know. This is awesome. I can’t believe I’ve never done this before bit I’ve always meant to but never seemed to get around to it.”

Not my best day but it was worth it so she could ride the Mountain.

 

            I never got around to it because, in my heart, I never really wanted to go anywhere. It’s not like that with Kim. I love spending time alone with her but I also enjoy going out and doing stuff. Looking back at the past, I realize it really does come down to who your travel companion is. Kim is so much fun to go out and do stuff with that I find myself seeking new opportunities.


Honeymoon in Ol' Mexico

 

            Recently Kim referred to herself as my good luck charm and it’s true. Over the past year, thanks to my lovely wife, I have had the opportunity to not just see two of my favorite authors but actually get to speak with them as well.   

            Last February, Kim worked her ass off to track down the hardest ticket to find during the Savannah Book Festival. Somehow she scored two tickets and we got to see Stephen King during the Festival’s Closing. It was amazing to listen to stories form a mind that has sparked my imagination not to mention cause a lack of sleep. The best moment came when I got to ask him a question during King’s Q&A session. It was a fanboy question but how many opportunities will I have to ask it again? Who made this happen? Kim did.

King is in the background signing. So cool!
 

 

            A few weeks ago, we had the opportunity to see Neil Gaiman perform some storytelling as part of the Unchained tour. I wrote a previous blog about that amazing night and Mr. Gaiman even retweeted on his twitter account. I even had the opportunity to get my little sister the ultimate birthday present as seen right here. All of this happened courtesy of the former Ms. Wade.

Birthday wishes from Mr. Gaiman

        

            Now I have can add one more to the bucket list. This morning I not only went to the SCAD Film Festival to view Spider-Man in 3D but Stan Lee did a Q&A session. Once again all credit goes to Kim for making this happen.

            I know I am a real parent now because of something I did during the Q&A. All week, I have been going through a list of questions to ask Stan Lee. “Who’s your favorite character?””Did you not get something published you were very proud of?” “What was the wackiest product pitched to you regarding your creations?” I had a list of go to questions and then it happened as we all raised our hands to get noticed.

            Jude wanted to ask a Stan “The Man” Lee a question, How could I say no to that? Believe or not, Jude is very shy and quiet in front of large crowds and people he doesn’t know. So I rose my and when the microphone guy came over I sent him to Jude. To steal a line from my students, Jude acted like a BOSS! He was great. For one moment, the boy stole the show from Stan Lee which is saying something.

            I have never been prouder. I know we’ll have more moments where I get to swell with pride but today was extra special for me. For a second, Jude was very quiet and I was afraid he was going to back out. He didn’t which is one of the many reasons I was thrilled. Jude overcame a little stage fright to speak with one of his heroes. It was a cool moment because I wanted him to have that opportunity even at my own expense.

            I look forward in seeing that Roni and Jude will have to say about all the places and people we have seen. I am eager to learn the perspective they are coming from. We’ve only been at this for almost two years now. It’s going to be cool to see where this takes us next. But if I know my wife and I am learning, it’s not only going to be memorable but a lot of fun in the process. I’ve come to the realization in life that it’s not so much about going out and doing stuff but the company you keep. And I am keeping some great company these days.

 

            Thanks for reading my blog.

The Night I met an Influence, Re-ignited a fire, and Learned a Lesson

             Living in Savannah has afforded me many opportunities that I somehow was missed back in the Atlanta days. I actually get to teach in the same county where I reside, I met my soul mate who also had to move to Savannah too for this happen, and I have gotten to meet three of my top five authors. Last was number two, Neil Gaiman.

 

             I first mentioned Mr. Gaiman's impact waaaay back in a previous blog. A very old friend who would quite literally run away and join the circus first introduced me to him back in 1989 with a comic called The Sandman. The well paced story telling combined with smart writing quickly made this my favorite read every month. Soon, Mr. Gaiman would expand to writing books which I read voraciously. Neverwhere, American Gods, and Stardust are just a few of his works that I was willing to shell out 20 bucks or so which was a lot for just graduated college student. Needless to say, big fan here.

            Last night, Gaiman was here in Savannah performing on a story telling tour called Unchained with several other very interesting people. Kim and I bought our tickets last month for the chance to see Gaiman. He was amazing. I even go to meet him and shake his hand. We spoke for a few brief moments. It’s always nice to see someone whom I admire turn out to be a nice guy.

            We had tweeted back and forth a few times over the week. I am teaching Brit Lit with my esteemed colleague, Paul Sidney. (Check out Paul’s blog. It rocks) Gaiman wrote the screenplay to Beowulf and we had hoped to get him in to speak to the kids. Gaiman tried but his schedule just didn’t match up.

            At one point, Gaiman even tweeted back when I mentioned several kids in my class wanted to come but were underage. He replied that I was 18 and over advisory. I am proud to say three of my students were front row and to the right. Melissa, a huge Gaiman fan, even sat about five feet from the Brit author at one point but she never knew because she was mesmerized by all the other storytellers who performed.

That is how the night went for us. Several of us where there because Gaiman was speaking. About every fourth or fifth person in the rows was holding a Sandman comic or Neil Gaiman related item. Gaiman did well. He is a skillful storyteller or raconteur as they liked to be called. Yet, I found myself enjoying the other raconteurs just as much and in some ways, even a little more.

So much in fact, I was moved to start writing this blog at three in the AM when all of this came together. See way back before Kim and the kids, I started writing The Tide to work on storytelling skills. It’s my dream to be a published author and professional storyteller but life keeps happening and I put this dream to the side.

I sat mesmerized by hearing these performers spin their craft and was a little jealous too. They were good. Really good. Dawn Frasier told a story about her twin with Down syndrome and how he displayed the ultimate act of sportsmanship and kindness at the Special Olympics. It made me cry, dammit.

Edgar Oliver, a Savannah native but now Ney York transplant, had the most unique voice I have heard while he shared a hilarious account of his days as an officer at Benedictine Military School.

 It started out as a tale about getting down and dirty with his girlfriend, yet somehow Peter Aquero masterfully made it a beautiful account of what love is.

This was all put together by another Savannah native, George Dawes Green. He has authored several books and started up NPR’s The Moth which promotes the art of storytelling. He changed it up a bit and actually preached a sermon about the evils of the internet which I hate to admit was right on target. “Switch it off he said, and open a book especially one bought from a local book store.” I ‘m paraphrasing but you get the idea which is quite a valid one in a time where kindles and I-pads rule.

Then Neil took the stage. Peter Aquero Emceed the event and I loved his introduction. Mr. Aquero simply stated how Neil Gaiman is “just a guy.” Oh, and he wrote a book about some sand.” The audience erupted with laughter. But he was right. Mr. Gaiman came out quite unassuming then shared a beautiful story linking how circus elephants are taught to embrace their chains rather realizing they can fight them and how he carried his own chains which prevented him from being happy.

I came for Neil but somehow found so much more last night. It is my honest belief in which everyone has a story to share. Last night I watched five people not only do that but also openly express to the audience something very personal, at times humorous, and even a little dangerous. It was a pretty brave thing to do and I walked away hungry to figure out this art form.

 I am already scheduled to some storytelling at Oatland Island for their Harvest Fest on Nov 10^th. Please mark on your calendars and come out to this. It’s awesome but more about in a later post. I think I am ready to get back to working on my craft, if I may steal line from Robbie Rankin, my old theatre director. And I will.

It was also a powerful night in another respect. I knew I’d be writing about this night before it even happened. My assumption was I’d be talking about the lovely chat Neil Gaiman and I had. (We did and it was AWESOME!) Something else happened and I have to share because it moved as much as the raconteur fire which was lit inside of me.

You know all about the tweets between Neil where I invited him to teach Beowulf. When my turn in line came this was the approach I took.

“Hey man, I am the teacher who has been tweeting you all week. Thanks for considering visiting us even though it didn’t work. We all got a kick out it., “I said with a shaky voice.

Mr. Gaiman smiled and said in a lovely British accent, “Ahhh yes, the teacher doing Beowulf. Sorry about that but wish you luck.” We shook hands. Coolness for me.

I had a moment and seized it. “Mr. Gaiman, I want to introduce you to my students. This is Melissa, Jordan, and Holiday. Also very big fans and thank you again for coming to Savannah. It’s been amazing to hear you and your fellow artists.

Neil Gaiman continued being a delightful individual and spent a few moments with my students. All three looked like those girls form the news footage of the teeny boppers watching the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show.

Our moment was over and Mr. Gaiman moved on to the throng of fans waiting for their moment too. I was on Cloud Nine and even spent a few moments with that Peter Aquero fellow asking ways to get into racontuering. He hugged me when I complimented on his velvet burgundy jacket. He was a big guy but I can respect when a large man like me is willing to show emotion so I happily hugged back. Neat guy. He talked like the northern version of my good friend and mentor, Tony Daniels. Just that alone, makes Mr. Aquero cool in my book.

Kim and I mingled. We said some hellos to our various friends from all our circles. Kim even got in line to have Mr. Gaiman sign my old copy of Stardust which I gave Roni back in the early dating days. I watched the proceedings from a far and wasn’t the least bit jealous when Neil Gaiman gave Kim a big smooch on the cheek. Ok, maybe a little bit.

Kim and I walked out into a one of those evenings in downtown Savannah where the humidity was fighting with the oncoming Fall chill. We were passing Mellow Mushroom as I got lost in my thoughts about those days of being a ghost tour guide when we came up on Holiday and Melissa. I asked if they needed a ride but they said they were fine.

Matter of fact, Holiday had to come over and show me the Neil Gaiman book she bought from the Blue bus (Please click onthis link. Gaiman talks about their bus and it's very cool) which transports the Unchained players and a Salvador Dali book she bought for one of my school’s art teachers. They started talking to Kim and I got distracted by a group of SCAD kids.

It was a pack of about five-six students and they definitely had that “I’m here for Gaiman Punkish Goth look. One of the guys who sported a variety of face piercings came up to and asked very politely,” Excuse me, sir, are you a professor?”

I almost burst out laughing. Robby the professor? I visualized myself in front of an Oxford style classroom wearing that fancy corduroy jacket with the little patches on the elbows. More stifles of laugher. Then the notion of getting some round gold glasses where I’d look like Professor Indiana Jones. I began to realize I could get used to that notion. Whip crack!

"Dr. Richardson?"

 

We shook hands as I replied, “Sorry to disappoint, guys. Just a high school sped teacher.”

A young lady with alternating shaved designs and dyed teal places on her head spoke up. “It doesn’t matter. Either way what you did was an inspiration.”

“What?” It was the only word in my head. Rather than vocalize, my face said it for me.

The first guy goes on. “We watched you take the time to make sure your kids got to meet Neil Gaiman. It’s not many teachers who’d bring their students to something like this and make sure they met their hero. Man, we need more teachers like you out there.”

I am always amazed at our abilities at how we humans can be so destructive to each other yet so uplifting at the same time. This pack of crazy looking Punk rock Goth kids said the very words I needed to hear to remind what it is that I do and why I put up with the fucking bullshit to to do it.

See, I have fallen out of love with teaching. It has become mired down in the stupidity our elected officials have instituted to get re-elected (This is not a conservative v. liberal issue. They are all guilty) piled with some many jobs that I rarely get to actually have the opportunity to connect with a student in an academic manner. I could give examples but it would just take away from the point these wild looking SCAD students reminded me.

Guilty.

I love teaching and I love my students. It’s OK to hate the outside forces that reign down on me to make my job all the harder. This is where I am supposed to be right now. I helped three very awesome and unique kids have an experience that might be the catalyst which gives the world the next great author, artist, or something great. I did what a teacher is supposed to do.  I showed those kids the world was little bit bigger last night the same way Mrs. Clark and Mr. Oliver did for me back at Union County High School in 1986.

I dream daily of being in front of an audience where I regale all with  my anecdotes of being that hopelessly dorky kid growing up in the mountains of North Georgia the marshes of Savannah with his unique family. I’ve had some amazing shit happen to me in my lifetime and the best part is I am finally finding my voice where it all ties together to make a good story. I dream of putting all this on paper and this is also slowly forming.

"You've got big dreams......"

At the same time, I recognize I may have hit a point where I can respect and appreciate the moment I am living in. It may not consist on hearing the applause I dream of but, thanks to a motley group of SCAD kids, I have been reminded that I did take a stand made a mark. I believe this is the best thing we can achieve as human beings.

I’ll get there. I am hungry for it but at the same time I have a responsibility to some kids over at Jenkins High School.

           And that alone will make a pretty good story

Yes, I Am a Geek



          Comic Con opens, as I type, in San Francisco. It’s the largest comic book, Sci-Fi-Fantasy convention in the North American hemisphere and just as in years past, I long to be there.  I always get a kick about how big of a deal it’s become especially because, historically speaking, comics and science fiction have usually been looked down on by the mainstream.  Comic-Con is now the launching point for Hollywood movies trying to capitalize on the new found public awareness of comics.



First comic I ever bought.



          I bought my first comic at a gas station next to my Grandma’s hair dresser and I’ve been hooked ever since. During my younger years, Mom and Dad were cool with it because all kids read comics. Dad used to go on and on about Pogo. As I got up in the junior high phase, there was no slowing down until my Dad put his foot down and I could only buy one comic per month.  Having to make my own Sophie’s Choice, I went with Marvel’s Star Wars.  

          





1970s Comics were so cheesy...

 Side Note: I could do a whole blog just on how much Star Wars and Star Trek had an effect on me while growing up but that is another day. I am trying to stick to just the world of comics.

 

      At some point in high school, I gave up comics entirely. It was kid’s stuff and no one seemed to respect it. As I look back, it cracks me up at how embarrassed I was about enjoying comics. I was so desperate to fit in during my teen years that I turned my back on something that I loved.

          Fast forward to the summer of 1989 where a twenty year old Robby was working at Camp Glisson and surrounded by comic book geeks. Tim Burton’s Batman had come out and somehow I fell off the wagon and have never gone back.

          I wish I could explain it but comics are a true passion of mine. I used to think that part of it was it completed a minor OCD tick of mine which is to complete things in sets. The older I get, the more I think it’s because comics are another way of storytelling. A well written comic has some pretty sharp character development complete with rising and falling action.

 Some comics get pretty sophisticated. Neil Gaiman wrote a comic about Morpheus,  the lord of dreams. Because the comic was set in his dream realm, Gaiman scope of stories were unlimited. He wrote about everything from how Shakespeare got his ideas, serial killer conventions, lost gods and even a story from the point of view of a cat. Reading his stories gave me a sense of pride because I realized that I had to have a bit of knowledge to “get it.”

Now mainstream society thinks it’s “cool” to read comics no matter how old even though the Japanese have know this little tidbit for eons. On one hand I am happy because I can see more people enjoying something that I have loved for years and I am more than happy to share. Yet, I also get a bit irritated. I consider myself a fairly intelligent guy who is somewhat well read, Why have I had to fight so hard against people to have my guilty pleasure? Parents, teachers, even an ex-wife have all tried to get me to give up something that as much a part of me as my love a history. It’s all because people don’t understand it or dismiss comics as “kid’s stuff.”

It cracks me up to see how comics are now getting respect though they are now referred to as “graphic novels.” The kicker for me was a few years back when I chaired a committee at the middle school I was teaching at to select appropriate  “graphic novels” because their librarian had read about them in one of her school librarian journals. It was quite satisfying to deal with the same sort of teachers who used to chastize me for reading comics and now be able to tell them that we are getting titles like Maus which won the Pulitzer back in the 80s.

Mary asked me the other day if I had introduced Jude and Veronica to my world of comics yet and I was sorry to say that I haven’t. It just has not had the opportunity to come up. Mary suggested she bring some Spider-Mans and a few Archie comics when she comes to visit in a few weeks. At that point that I decided to sit back and let Mary be the one to introduce it to them.  I am getting the hang of this dealing with kids thing and I realize that the cooler something is to me then it’s not cool to rising 4^th graders.

I like the idea of Mary being the one to broaden Ronnie and Jude’s world a bit and I am taking a bit of pride in it. Growing up, Mary was always my sidekick and we shared in all things together like comics. Her collection is almost as good as mine, I’m proud to say. I think it would be awesome for Mary to share something we both love and has been a formative part of lives with my two new sidekicks. They just better not be a fan of DC because we’ve always been a strict Marvel family……



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