The end of the line

So, as I mentioned in a previous post, this ending was written long ago.

My last memories of Jeffrey were in the hospital. It's not a story I want to tell here, but he spent a long time going from one ward to another, and he was pretty miserable most of the time. In all the time I managed to spend with him during those many weeks, I kept thinking of how familiar I had become with the Pittsburgh Hospital system.

Between Jeffrey, his father and mother, I had been in and out of a hospital or nursing home almost every other time I went to the city for the past eight years. That doesn't count assisted living.

Jeffrey was always worried, concerned, or panicked, but he was always THERE. He would come, sit in the room, ask if he could do anything, and then just sit there some more. There was never any question that he had to be there...I don't know if it was obligation, love or duty, but Jeffrey would never even think that he would not be waiting for his father or mother to see if they needed anything, if only company.

I wanted to capture that sense of Jeff, because it was so sad to me that when he was in the hospital for his final days, he spent so much of his time alone. Everyone tried the best they could, and when he finally passed away his sister Carol was beside him, which I'm truly grateful for, but his last days on earth were devoid of the comfort and support he so often tried to give.

As I've said before, Jeffrey's life is the foundation for this story. If there's one thing I want my readers to take away with them, it's that we are not alone, and when we look for support, it is not always returned in the same kind as when we offered it. Maybe we're all a net, joined together, and if one of us lets someone slip through that net, then they are lost. Would we want that to happen to ourselves? Then, perhaps, we should try not to let it happen to others.

Thanks for reading. I'll be taking a few weeks to get my kickstarter going correctly (lord know it needs attention) and then I'll pick up the tale that starts in the Mountains east of Pittsburgh.

As we come to the finish

I am not embarrassed to admit that these last pages had me pretty choked up at one point. Not to give anything away, but if you're paying attention, you've noticed that I take advantage of one of the unique properties of sequential art in the last panel of today's page (1-118.) This is the kind of cliffhanger you could not get away with in the movies, and if you tried it in a book, you'd be accused of cheating.

I had a couple of decisions to make when I got to this point, but the ending to this story was written long ago. I hope it lives up to the rest of the tale, and Jeffrey's memory.

So enjoy the last three pages of "When Hadrons Collide" and let me know what you thought about it. The next story is already partially written, and I have an idea for the story after that, but call it vanity or practicality, I need to know that they're being read if I'm going to commit to this kind of pace. In any event, if you're reading this, then thank you for following along, and I hope you've enjoyed the ride.

A small joke to point out a bigger issue

When Jeffrey passed away he was very overweight and out of shape. His condition was part of the cause of his death, and he was often cautioned that if he did not do  something about it, he'd be in trouble.

As someone on the hefty side of the scale, I sympathized with his having to deal with all these admonishments. I find it hard to believe that there is a heavy person out there who, listening to someone tell them how fat they are, stops and says "...by golly, now that you mention it, I AM obese! Thanks for pointing that out - I'll get right on it."

Jeffrey knew he had a weight problem, and thought he was doing his best to get healthy. His reaction to criticisms about his health was to affirm that he was on top of the problem. I never chided him about his weight, but at the same time I was always honest, sometimes painfully so, whenever he asked me if I thought he weighed too much. It was my belief that his asking the question opened the door to accepting an honest answer when it might do some good, and I really believe that he took my frank response to heart, if only too little and too late.

The bigger problem, and here is one that aide agencies and other help organizations that encourage independent living for handicapped individuals must start to consider, is that even with the best advice and guidance, Jeffrey could not make good decisions about his diet and health. At what point should his personal freedom been taken away? If he lived in a group house where his meals were prepared and snacking somewhat moderated, he might be alive today.

My father was living on a diet of ice cream and cereal when we had to move him into assisted living. He did not enjoy the experience, and still has issues, but his overall health has improved from the healthy diet and lack of junk food (even if we do bring him more than his fair share of snacks.) The insurmountable gap is the leap from where he was to how he got there. I know Jeffrey was very proud of his ability to live by himself, and what it would have taken to get him into a similar setup. This also overlooks the incredible cost of providing this kind of care.

Everyone had an answer for what was best for Jeffrey, including himself. I guess the sum of the parts was not sufficient to meet the total of his needs.

Agony Airlines

As anyone growing up in Pittsburgh would know, the main airline servicing the city was Allegheny Airlines, which later became absorbed into US Airways. It was a nice enough little airline, but every time someone (ourselves included) would fly into Pittsburgh, there would always be a problem of some kind. A bag would be lost, or the flight delayed, or (and this was good for a few years) the terminal would be under construction.

Once, Jeffrey's Uncle Sydney arrived at their house for a family event after a particularly long trip. The plane red lighted and they had to be assigned another aircraft, and the reshuffling of passengers and luggage proved particularly arduous. When we asked him what was wrong with the plane, he said "I guess the rubber band broke! Allegheny Airlines, hah! They should call it Agony Airlines!"

This became Jeffrey's favorite joke about flying, and anytime he could work it into a trip's narrative he would. What I found interesting was that he credited his uncle every time. Think about how often you have heard and retold a joke, and ask yourself how many times you would explain where you heard it and from whom.

I'm sure Jeffrey was just being considerate; in his mind it was something like "...this is a funny story - whoever I'm telling it to should know where I got it from!" He was so anxious about doing the right thing and so afraid of taking credit for anything he thought he didn't deserve. I've hinted that Jeffrey's life was not so happy. There were a lot of reasons for this, but if I could do anything over again, it would be to let him know it was okay to get credit for the joke now and then.

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Page 100

A number of cartoonists have mentioned it to me about characters that they have created. After a certain amount of time, the characters start to take over the story line. This is what happened with Dr. Moreno.

I did not intend for her to be secretly working for Professor Larsenous. I had a completely different role for her in mind when this story started, but them Master Jeffrey started to point some things out to me. The hole digging thing, the unlikely timing of the attack at CERN, all these were, I told myself, the fault of a bad storyteller on his first attempt. Then Jeffrey turns to me and says "...why do you THINK I brought her along?"

There are some other small reveals which I might still let out, but I'm running out of time. I only have 20 pages left in this story - yes, this story will end at page 120(ish) and a new Master Jeffrey adventure will begin, assuming I make it that far. For a minute I thought I was in charge of all this - now even I can't wait to see how it all turns out!

Cake? During Passover? WHAT was I thinking?

If you're new to Master Jeffrey and haven't had a chance to read about the Time Dumbwaiter (click here,) take a minute now. In writing this story, I've had to learn how to write to the pacing of a book published three pages a week. What I didn't want to lose was the overall structure of the story, and this includes foreshadowing. When the entire story is completed, (and we're about to wrap up chapter four of the five chapter book) I will hopefully have made it worthwhile to re-read the entire tale in one sitting. Yes, I'm looking at a kickstarter in the near future.

Passover started this week, and thinking back, I find that Jeffrey and I never shared a Seder meal together. Being in two different cities, and Passover coming at a time of year, it just never happened in the 34 odd years since I met his sister and eventually married her. This is especially significant when you consider what the Passover Seder is all about.

We go to my wife's cousin's Seder, and have been doing so since the eighties. Joan and her husband Arnold (Mo) are more than relatives, they are good friends. Every year Joan gets a little more intense about the Seder. To give you some sense of degree, about twelve years ago they moved into their current home, which they renovated from an older kit home circa 1945. In all of their considerations regarding the architecture and refinishing, there was one consistent requirement: there had to be room to have 24 people to dinner at ONE TABLE during Passover (and she's been upping her game ever since.)

This year we were given homework. We had to contemplate why the Passover Holiday and Seder were such a significant part of being Jewish. A lot of points were made, including some keen observations by new guests (the list changes every year) but it drove home the point that this meal was at the core of the Jewish community, and it commemorates an event which can be said is the essential center of Jewish existence. And Jeff and I never had one together.

Realizing this, I get thrown back onto the pile of things we should have done together. All the places I should have taken him, and things we could have done. A Passover Seder was never on the list before, but it would be nice to have had one memory of that community meal (if you've never been to one, you should try it.) One of the traditional sayings during and at the end of the meal is "next year in Israel" and I never paid much attention to it. From now on it will remind me that there is not always a next year, and that the family and friends we have should be enjoyed every day while we can.

Tired but still mushing on...

Last night I was soooo tired. Still, I wanted to stick to my schedule and post the new page. That has been my policy so far, but in the wee hours of the evening I couldn't see straight, and more than once I found I had done the old "pen scrawl" off the page. There was a lot of retouching in Photoshop.

Even if the art is not up to my standards, I still want to keep the story going. I'm pretty happy with how the action is developing, and if the art is suffering a little from the pace, I pick up my copy of Action #1 (I keep a couple around for reference and the occasional scrapbooking source) and notice tha the art is dynamic, the composition superb, but nothing like the level of stuff being done today. The art, to me, is meant to work with the story- they carry each other.

Anyway, time for a nap, but I have work to do. Hope I don't doze offfffffffffvvvvvvvvv....................