Real Sweethearts
by the Editor
There's been a lot of death around EAP World Headquarters the last couple of months, a fact I wouldn't normally mention (as being too personal) except for that when I think about two of the deaths (and as you can imagine, when they happen, you think about them a lot), they seem to me to be of men who, one way or another, were what you might call patron saints of EAP. One was very famous and taught me just how very little you get back from that fame–so you'd better be interested in your work, because that's where the satisfaction is going to lie. That was Dennis Hopper, who I worked with as a writer on two of his films (BACKTRACK and THE HOT SPOT). Dennis was just about the kindest, most thoughtful boss for a writer that can be imagined (I still remember him rolling around on his back on the floor of his house after a particularly dimwitted meeting with the money people, shouting, "Back off of my writers, man! Give the creative people ROOM!"), protective, encouraging, clear about what he wanted. Most of all–kind, like I said. Not what most people think of when they think of him.
I still remember going to a county fair in Texas with Dennis and his then wife Katherine…research for THE HOT SPOT. At one point, after a big barrel of iced tea, I needed a rest room, and, spotting one, shot off to make use of it. I returned to find a petrified Katherine and a wary Dennis, arm around her protectively, standing in the middle of a fast increasing circle of gawkers. No one was saying anything, they were just staring at the celebrity, the way they might have stared at a performing monkey. Hurrying up, I rejoined them, and we walked quickly away. Dennis said quietly, "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever leave me alone in a public place. I have to keep moving all the time." That taught me a lesson I never forgot, and that, in fact, has come in very handy since: Being famous is not necessarily a good thing. It might be useful for other ends. It might be an unavoidable side effect of your own work. But unless you want to make sure that you can't freely walk through a county fair, you might want to reconsider any desire you feel for it. Dennis taught me the lesson that everyday life is the most precious commodity we have.
The other death was of a man who in his life embodied the preciousness of that commodity. I was very lucky to have him as both my uncle and my godfather. His name was John Torres, and no one outside of his immediate circle (which was a large one, given his sunny and convivial temperament) had ever heard of him. But I think of everyone I have met, famous and un, he did the most in his life to actually extend the happiness he felt out into the world. He was married for sixty years, and I never heard an angry word spoken between him and my aunt. Father of three, grandfather of four, adored by all for his sense of humor, his common sense, and his sense of justice. I was an extremely sharp child, and watched him closely as I grew up–but never heard or saw him say or do a hypocritical thing. He enjoyed his everyday life, he dearly wished that everyone should enjoy theirs, and his life was a perfect example of how that everyday life is a sacrament, to be protected and cherished. If John had been at the county fair that day, while Dennis was hurrying to get back to his hotel room, John would have been breezing through, enjoying himself, buying a cotton candy for his grandson, greeting all of his friends.
You can pick which course you prefer, of course. Everyone is allowed to pick–to the best of their ability, anyway.
Now that I've got you on the subject, you might want to have a look at Evie King's Where Do We Go When We Die? It's a worthwhile piece for a lot of reasons…and it certainly tells you about why she ended up writing a book where the hero has to visit the afterlife of every known religion and rate them for their amenities. (DIRK QUIGBY'S GUIDE TO THE AFTERLIFE, coming to a bookstore near you in October…)
GREENBEARD is back, thank heavens…and we finally get to see what the Captain has been angling for this whole time. Not to mention the pleasure of watching Miss Chumbley talk Dutch.
Mat Capper is, as they say, facing challenges this month, even above and beyond the usual. Some of you may remember his wife, Sue Cullen, who wrote a piece for EAP about dystonia, the disease she struggles with. Mat writes about his struggles, too. If you want to send him any wishes of support, I'll be happy to pass them on. (info@exterminatingangel.com).
Finally, we're really quite revved about a manuscript that came flying over the virtual transom. David Marin is the only single Caucasian male in the US to have adopted three multiracial kids . Just his description of trying to find a diaper bag at Wal Mart that wasn't pink would make the book worth publishing…Now we've got it, we're going to play with it for awhile. As David says, "This is going to be FUN." This issue, I asked him to introduce himself…and since we haven't yet come up with a perfect title for the eventual book, he asks for help. He did want to call it "The Republican Guide to Adopting Fieldworkers," but we here at EAP felt that was a trifle…er…well. You know. Even if hilarious. Though maybe as a subtitle…(more about David's book in the Todblog …)
Welcome back.