We are, like you, taking Labor Day off but only from blogging…and not even from that since I'm writing this. I have deadlines on other writing. Today's involves a very stupid barbarian who loves cheese dip and who'll be wreaking havoc in a twelve-issue series you can read, one issue per month, throughout the year 2015. Formal announcement to come.
The death of Stan Goldberg was not, of course, unexpected to those of you who noticed the word "hospice" in my earlier mention of his stroke. Still, it was jarring because Stan was such a good, sweet person who in terms of his approach to work was everything a cartoonist should be. He worked very hard and even into his eighties, loved what he was doing and was frustrated when he had no assigned work on the board. He and I had once talked of doing a graphic novel together that he'd draw, more or less in the Archie style — stories of dating and relationships in the real world. I'm sorry we never went forward with it.
I'm also sorry Stan didn't make it out to Comic-Con one more time. The National Cartoonists Society gathering last May was held at the Omni in San Diego, one of the hotels that houses people when they attend Comic-Con. Stan was so happy to be there and at one point, he pointed across the street to the big San Diego Convention Center and said, "And I want to go back there for Comic-Con in 2016."
I immediately thought but did not say that his health would not allow it…but then I remembered that not so long ago, it seemed inconceivable that Stan and his wife Pauline would have been well enough to come out to San Diego for the N.C.S. affair — and here he was, standing outside the Omni with me. Sadly, I was right the first time.