It's World Sketchnote Day, so it's time to post some sketchnotes!

I found these old unpublished sketchnotes from two different events I attended in 2014, and never really finished.

This first one was from a talk by Canadian comics creator Michael Cho, at Loft 112. Calgary comics guy Damian Willcox invited me to come out for this!

And the second set of sketchnotes comes from a reading at Shelf Life Books, by my mom, who had a little launch for her self-published book of poems, "Naked Under my Coat: Writing Under the Influence of Parkinson's."

And last of all - found at the bottom of my pile of "things I drew in 2014 and didn't do anything with" - some notes that aren't exactly sketchnotes, but notes about the kind of lettering I use when making sketchnotes!

Happy sketchnoting!

2016 has been a challenging year (understatement)! A surreal  year, in fact, if Merriam-Webster's "Word of the Year" is anything to go by.

Up here in Canada, we're watching what looks like a worldwide trend towards extreme right-wing political parties in government. I'm proud to have been able to lend a hand to some local political happenings in recent years (such as the non-partisan "Get Out The Vote" volunteer initiative VoteKit, and helping on campaigns for Calgary Mayor Naheed Nenshi) - but I'm no political expert. In 2016, like so many other people, I've felt a strong desire to get myself educated really fast, about what's happening in the US political scene and beyond - so that I can be prepared for whatever's coming next.

Kendzior has been compared to Cassandra, the character from ancient Greek literature who foretold the future (and who was doomed never to be believed). But it seems she herself may prefer the comparison to John McClane, the hero of Die Hard. Spoiler (in case you don't know, or can't guess?!): McClane takes on a pack of bad guys singlehandedly and saves the day. Of course, lots of people get killed in the movie. Needless to say, I'm hoping that Sarah Kendzior's pen is mightier than the swords that are being rattled on the international stage these days; it's my wholehearted wish that the world's political divides can be healed WITHOUT violence, even the Hollywood movie kind. 

It's thanks to them that I learned about such important teenage cultural phenomena like the German version of Dungeons and Dragons, the video game "DOOM" (ugh), and movies like the Rocky Horror Picture Show, Highlander, and... Die Hard.

As my exchange neared its end, I wrote a comic strip to pay tribute to the inside jokes we'd shared during our year together. And for some reason, it ended up being about Die Hard. When I read Sarah Kendzior's tweets about John McClane over the past month, it stirred up a memory of this comic strip and I actually found a copy of it on an old hard drive (the original was in colour).

So, because it's Christmas (well, it was when I started writing this), and because it's "surreal" 2016,  I thought I'd post this never-published strip.

A note which you may find kinda funny: The movie in German is called "Stirb Langsam," which means "Die SLOW"... kinda lacks the defiant ring of the English title. Let me promise you another post on ridiculously-translated German movie titles another time, but for now:

Warnings:

1. It's really long.

2. It's also really bad, but remember, I was 17!

3. It's full of jokes that no one will get, so I've added notes to keep it sort of understandable. Translations from German are at the bottom of each page.

4. Hopefully my friends won't be too annoyed that I'm posting this ancient stuff.

5. It's not really anything like Die Hard (although there are good guys, bad guys, a hostage-taking, and a lot of guns) - Die Hard just provided a premise. So, in case readers like Sarah Kendzior are actually drawn in this direction, please don't feel any pressure to read this. I just wanted to give you a shout-out for the work that you do. A shout-out, too, to Canada's journalists, Canada's Kenziors and pen-wielding McClanes, who may yet write about happy endings, against all odds. Yippee-kay-yay and a belated Merry Christmas!

Songs playing on the cassette player in my room: Matthias Reim ("Ich hab' geträumt von Dir"), Marillion ("Kayleigh"), and Elton John ("Sorry seems to be the hardest word").

Next page: We meet Alexa strolling through Bretten's main square. She was a girl at our school who was famous for having a crush on Christian. Enter the Phantom of the Opera, a topical character at the time since the Phantom had recently made its German-language debut in Hamburg.

He asks Alexa if it's true that Bruce Willis is coming to Bretten, and rejoices in the news since he apparently bears Bruce a long-standing grudge. It seems that, long ago, the Phantom loved a young opera singer - but she loved Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny (as per the original Phantom story). They fought, and the Phantom thought Raoul died... but no! He escaped with the girl and they fled to America....

...There, he took the name of Bruce Willis and became a famous movie star. The Phantom was apparently too broke to travel to America to confront him. But when he heard Bruce was coming to Bretten, he came up (from the sewers of Paris, I guess?) to find his chance for revenge.

He asks Alexa for help and she asks, "What's in it for me?"

"What do you want?" he asks.

"I'm in love with this boy," she responds. They agree that he'll help to kidnap Christian in exchange for her help. He explains his plan: since Bruce is always surrounded by people, they'll have to take hostages. Alexa is charged with finding "two killers" to help them. After all this, she asks - "wait! Who are you?" But the Phantom strides off into the night...

The next day, the phone rings at the home where Sam lives as an exchange student along with her 13-year-old host sister Friederike (Rike). Rike is in her room with her dog Otti, her New Kids on the Block posters, and her neverending soundtrack to Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Starlight Express" in German (try listening to that for several months and see what it does to your head... actually, just don't). The phone's for Sam, so Rike heads to Sam's room, where Sam is hanging out with JP and Christian listening to "Love Bites." JP, Christian and I had a sort-of-true joke about being three "depressed," socially shy people, who sat in our dark rooms with candles and gloomy music since we weren't popular at school... more on that later...

It's Markus on the phone, a creepy older guy who (in real life) been arbitrarily pursuing Sam, Christian's sister Andi, and numerous other local girls (hence the many phone numbers on his wall). He calls Sam "Zementa," a joke about how he can't keep track of who's who, along with another joke about how some Germans thought my name ("Samantha") sounded like the word for "cement" ("Zement").

He asks what she's doing that day and she says she's going to be an extra in the film. He says he might drop by there too.

JP, Christian, Sam and Rike head down to the Melanchthon-Gymnasium (our school) where the film will be shot, to the sound of Pink Floyd's "On the Turning Away." Sam asks who's making the soundtrack to the film, and Rike responds: "Matthias Reim!"

Alexa has found her two "killers:" the evil Herr Becker, a teacher at the school who had an antagonistic relationship wth Christian, and Andreas, a headbanger-type who was a real-life enemy of Jens-Peter.

"Here's your money and your MPs [I guess that's a kind of gun? Pardon my ignorance] - hide them," Alexa instructs. She tells them to take out the guns when they see her talking to Bruce.

Meanwhile, Bruce himself is being forced to listen to Matthias Reim's music, and pronounces that he hates it! "You're an idiot. It's a super song," responds Matthias. Overhearing this, Alexa asks Matthias if he'd be glad if Bruce were dead, and the thin-skinned Matthias confirms that he would.

Alexa instructs Matthias to take out his gun - but not to shoot - when he sees her talking to Bruce.

Meanwhile, Otti escapes from Rike's arms and runs into the boys' washroom. Rike asks JP and Christian if they can bring Otti back for her...

While JP and Christian head upstairs, Alexa asks Bruce for his autograph. He asks if she has a pen and she responds that she has a gun!

The crowd is taken hostage by Herr Becker, Andreas, and Matthias! "What's up?" demands Bruce. Alexa tells him: "Be quiet and come with me." The other bad guys are told to take the crowd into the gym.

JP and Christian have found Otti in the bathroom, but then they hear sounds outside. Bruce is being taken upstairs, asking, "What do you want with me?" At the top of the stairs, he's confronted by his old enemy, the Phantom. "At last, the time has come for my revenge! This time, Herr Willis, you will die!"

Alexa, Matthias, and the boys in the bathroom, hear the shot. "This time he's really dead," says the Phantom. "Now let's go to the gym and you'll get what I promised you," he tells Alexa.

JP and Christian bend over Bruce's body ("In a cartoon, JP's knees bend" - something he had trouble with in real life). "Is he really dead?" asks JP. Christian confirms that he is really dead - "tod" - in a double joke about Christian's ambitions to be a doctor, and the fact that his last name, "Toth," is pronounced the same way as the German word "Tod," or "death," creating a neverending joke for him about being called "Dr. Death."

"What should we do?" asks JP. "It's dangerous to go downstairs."
"But we have to rescue the others," says Christian. "Where can we find help?"

JP, looking out of the window, calls, "Hey! Who's that?"

It's Oliver, our friend who, recently consumed with infatuation over a new girlfriend, had completely dropped out of our lives. He's no help here, either.

JP makes another joke about Germany in general: "It's useless to ask anyone else for help, since it's Saturday and everyone knows that everyone in Germany washes their cars on Saturday."

"Chris - we're really alone," proclaims JP, and they shake on it to the tune of Dire Straights' "Brothers in Arms."

Meanwhile, Alexa discovers that Christian isn't in the crowd. Andreas says that no one has been allowed to leave the school. The Phantom tells Andreas to look upstairs, while the others stay in the gym.

Upstairs, Christian departs to look on the third floor, while JP is left lamenting the death of Bruce....

Confronting Andreas one-on-one, JP remembers his real-life karate lessons and Andreas's real-life words that "guys like you should...."

JP employs a real-life karate move he'd recently learned about - the one-time push to the solar plexus that apparently kills in an instant. JP finishes Andreas's sentence: "... should be lined up against the wall." (Andreas really was a jerk! Also, I don't know if my German version of that sentence is correct, but whatever.)

Christian reappears, and JP gives him the gun, saying, "You're welcome." They tell Otti to stay there...

Seeing Herr Becker, they debate whether they should shoot him. Christian worries that if he shoots him, Becker will give him a bad mark in school. JP responds with an English phrase which I think these guys made up. Their English was really good, but without the worldwide media coverage and internet resources of today, sometimes their interpretations of American cultural stuff was pretty funny. For example, they thought the Bob Marley song "No woman no cry," was a lament for guys who'd been cheated on by their girlfriends, hence the conclusion, "If you don't have a [cheating, unreliable] woman, you won't have to cry." Apparently, this misinterpretation is common in Germany, actually. But again, I digress...

"Is it still dangerous?" Christian asks. "No," says Alexa. "Wow! You're my hero!" ...

Matthias: "Now I'll do you in!"
Alexa: "But not Christian!"
Matthias: "Ok, but his friend."
JP: "I don't want to die!"
Christian: "Death is better than Alexa!"

And now, my tribute to the wonderful silver-tongued JP, who was famous for his ability to think on his feet and twist words to mean anything. He starts talking to Matthias, pushing all his buttons, and ultimately rendering him into a pile of mush with the following arguments:

"You know, Matthias, you were my hero! I loved your music! I bought your cassettes! You were a person I could really identify with! But now I see the real Reim - a killer! What would your mother think?? Chris and I are young - we have our whole wonderful lives ahead of us. And you just say "hmm." What does that mean? Does "hmm" mean something important or symbolic? No! You only say it, because you have no heart! You are cruel!"

While JP checks for "ammo," Matthias debates which one to shoot. Alexa, seeing him look to Christian, runs to protect him...

JP discovers he is armed... and Alexa dies in Christian's arms ("dead but happy"). "I'm at the end," is what Christian always said in real-life after playing tennis, which he did semi-professionally for a long time...

C: "I think the danger's past."
JP: "We can rescue the people."

The director asks: "Where's Bruce?"
To keep JP from answering, a girl from our school who JP kinda fancied, falls gratuitously into his arms.
The Phantom announces: "You can all go free. I have my revenge! Goodbye!"

Meanwhile, along comes the creepy Markus, debating whether he'll pursue Sam or Andi, and listening to "Bochum" by Herbert Groenemeyer in his car. Getting out, he realizes it's cold out. The Phantom, hearing him, offers him his coat and hat. The Phantom strides off, saying, "I'm so happy. At last, he's dead."

When Markus comes in, clad in the Phantom's attire, JP responds, "What! Again already!"

It wasn't the Phantom... it was Markus! Sam and Andi rejoice at Markus's death. (By the way, one more proviso: I don't usually... or ever... write comics in which so many people die so casually and violently, and in which their deaths are greeted with responses like this! But remember... "Die Hard"!)

The director demands again to know Bruce's whereabouts. JP brings the sad news that Bruce is dead. But a voice calls: "Wrong!"

Bruce appears with Otti, and "Dr. Toth" says, "But Bruce, you were really dead!"

"I was just a little bit dead," says Bruce in an echo of The Princess Bride... "I'm like The Highlander and I can't die! It's very practical for an actor. In "Die Hard 1" I died three times!"

Transported by the mention of "The Highlander," JP and Chris tear up as they think of the Queen song, "There's no time for us..."

Then in comes the mayor of Bretten: "Are you Jens-Peter Berk? You killed three people today.....

... you've killed ENOUGH people. You won't have to go to the army!"

(German boys had to do a year of military or volunteer service after they finished high school, and this was something JP had been dreading a lot. Does this still happen in Germany?)

After Christian is picked up by a talent scout for tennis players, JP reflects: "Wow! We are rich and famous! We can be really happy!"

C: "We won't have to be depressed!"

JP and C: "Not depressed? We have to be depressed! Otherwise we can't live! What should we do!"

Sam saves the day: "Come with me, I have candles and music - everything we need. Don't worry. Let's go!"

But none of that happened. Instead, after a long day, I closed the trunk of my mom's car - but I didn't notice that the trunk of her car sticks out about a foot further than the  trunk of my car. The trunk came down on my head, and I ended up with a mild concussion. I missed the Expo and most of the other stuff I had planned over the next few months. After about a month, though, I was able to write and draw, and since I was getting pretty bored of lying in bed with my eyes closed, I wrote this comic. Later, on one of the first days I risked venturing back into society, I brought this comic along to Calgary's first annual Panel One Comic Creators Fest in June.

When I read it now, I think:
1. Hm, that just goes to show what kind of a weird, rambly headspace I was in, when I wrote all that stuff.
2. Man, I should have been lying in the dark with my eyes closed, instead of writing that ridiculous comic!

Anyway, I just realized that somehow this comic never got posted. So, for all you readers who are interested in comics about concussions, and/or how I spent my summer vacation, here's my post-concussion comic.

By the way, in case you're wondering: I think I was pretty lucky, as far as concussions go. I've heard a lot of people describing symptoms that persist for months and years after a bump on the head. In my case, things are definitely different than they were before, even now, eight months later. I get headaches I never used to - but they're not that bad. The good news is, concussions are being studied and treated with greater care than ever before, and so it seems hopeful that future sufferers may have better prospects for recovery.

Hi Ramsay comic strip readers! Before I post this month's comic, here's a little bit about why I wrote it:

Over the past five years or so, I've been writing a comic strip that runs in my monthly community newsletter. This is just something I've done for fun, because I was inspired by the people, places and stories in my neighbourhood. It was a way to give back.

I've written comics about politics here and there - my first foray into indie comics was a story about the effects of September 11th, 2001 on Canada, and my most recent politically-themed comic was "City Hall 101," a story about how everyday Calgary citizens can weigh in on issues that matter to them, at City Hall.

But I've steered clear of politics in "Sam Hester's Ramsay." I've never wanted to use my little neighbourhood strip as my own political soapbox. The newsletter only circulates to about 1000 households, along with being posted to the Community Association website and my own blog. But if my comic is even a small part of the face Ramsay presents to the outside world, I want to make sure it's as inclusive, diverse and welcoming a face as I can help to make it.

That's still what I want. But this month, I had to write about my fear of what's happening in the United States as the world watches the unprecedented period of "transition" following Donald Trump's presidential victory on November 8th , 2016.

Ultimately, whatever happens and whatever you believe, anything we will be able to do to keep the human race going, under any kind of political leadership, will be about sharing space with your neighbours. I'm hoping that's a message that can resonate with everyone!

I hope it might spark some conversations - maybe even motivate people to reach out, in their own networks, for answers to the questions they have. And if people think I'm absolutely wrong about my take on this - I hope those people will talk about it, think about it, do something about it, too! If neighbours are getting connected, my art is doing its job.

By the way, independent comics creators all over the world are using their medium to share stories about what's happening in America right now. Take a look at what Alison Bechdel is doing; Francoise Mouly and Nadja Spiegelman are putting together an important project too. (If you know about any other comics that are being written about this, I'd love to hear - especially if they're Canadian!)

Let me leave you with this quote from American journalist for the Globe & Mail, Sarah Kendzior, who's provided a voice of reason throughout the entire American election campaign, and even more so in the past weeks now that she's really gaining an international audience (thank goodness). This quote is from an article she wrote on November 18th, 2016:

"You still have your freedom, so use it. There are many groups organizing for both resistance and subsistence, but we are heading into dark times, and you need to be your own light. Do not accept brutality and cruelty as normal even if it is sanctioned. Protect the vulnerable and encourage the afraid. If you are brave, stand up for others. If you cannot be brave – and it is often hard to be brave – be kind."

I have a few more thoughts about this, so look for another post very soon, with some ideas about what neighbours can do next. Until then: be kind, to yourself and to your neighbours, too.

Dear folks who kindly follow me on Twitter, my blog and elsewhere,

If you're following me, I'm guessing it has something to do with comics, graphic recording, and/or cool visually-inspiring creative writing stuff. If that's what you've been hoping to see in my online channels, you may have been surprised recently to see a lot less art and a lot more retweets about politics. These aren't mutually exclusive, by the way - art is an important voice for change and social commentary, in political circles and everywhere else, too.

In the wake of Donald Trump's electoral victory on Nov. 8th, 2016 - and alongside the Canadian campaigns for leader of the federal Conservative party and Alberta's Progressive Conservative party - I've been thinking about ways that comics creators, and artists in general, can add important perspectives to the conversation. While all this stuff is simmering in my brain, I haven't had as much time to post (or draw) new pictures. With my retweets, I'm hoping to flag issues that seem important, and which might be part of whatever creative project evolves out of this. Stay tuned! And don't despair - pictures are coming.

In the meantime, I'm going to re-post a Twitter "essay" (it's not really an essay, but I'm not sure what else you call these things) that I put out on November 9th, about the way artists can participate in - and lead - the creation of positive change in society. New stuff coming soon, starting with my latest Ramsay newsletter comic strip on this subject, which I'll be posting tomorrow!

love,
sam

1/6 I'm thinking about how comics can help in the face of fear, helplessness & danger. @Nsousanis wrote this strip about #Election2016

(I'm sharing Nick Sousanis's comic here - but take a look at his own site, for his own post about this comic, and more amazing work.)

2/6 Writing this 2012 comic helped me process the #SandyHook shootings. I'm a bit too messed up by #election2016 to draw anything yet today.

3/6 In 2004, I was mad, but I was still able to look at the humourous side. #Rush! Also, I still felt like I was safe in Canada.

4/6 Today feels like the scary feeling I wrote about in a 2003 @UCalgary textbook comics essay on post-911 Canada. http://ow.ly/vcBl3061dbh 

5/6 I want to fix the whole broken system, but I have to remember small changes can help & have an impact, too. (Hug your kids! Save bugs!)

6/6 Comics can give voice to the stories that we will need to hear. Comics will help get me through this, & I hope they'll help you, too.

Just realizing that I didn't post my November Ramsay newsletter comic strip, so here it is at the end of the month.
 
For once, this wasn't a comic strip, but a sketch which I did with my son, as part of a school project with his Grade 3/4 class at Ramsay School. It made me think about how I used to sit and sketch all the time, and the fact that I never do that kind of thing anymore. I should! And maybe you'd like to give it a try, too - it sure teaches you to see things in your own neighbourhood that you might never notice, otherwise.

The late great Stephen Cartwright, by the way - a children's book illustrator I loved as a kid. Those dog-eared books are now being read by my kids. (I couldn't find a reliable link that actually showed his artwork, so I just linked to his Wikipedia article, which doesn't feature any of his illustrations. Dig just a little deeper online and you will find lots!)

And as for our mystery location in the neighbourhood - I couldn't quite get the red marker on our spot, since we weren't located at a street address. Instead, we were in the park just to the west of Bellevue Avenue. Scroll in and find #1102 Bellevue Avenue - that's the house in my sketch.

Leonard Cohen's music has been there all my life, since I first heard his early folk songs sung by my dad as a kid. And so his presence has continued to make itself felt in my own work. Leonard Cohen died today and so I looked through my files to find a few places he's been with me.

Sitting at The Planet coffee shop on 4th Street SW in Calgary (now the Purple Perk) around 1998, I wrote these musings upon music in general, including a mention of a "gloomy" Leonard Cohen.

In 2001 I went through a break-up with a boyfriend that for some reason inspired way more art that I can credit. Anyway, during that time I painted this portrait based on a previous portrait of myself - but this time, the "turning to clay" version, from an image I just couldn't shake. It came from Leonard Cohen's poem "The Cuckold's Song" which I knew from my parents' old copy of his poetry collection "The Spice Box of Earth."

Then in 2005 I wrote about attending a poetry reading at Calgary's old Hop In Brew Pub (unlike the Planet, it's still there!), attended by a group of friends and punctuated by the music of Leonard Cohen.

Goodbye Leonard Cohen.
"Sincerely, A Friend."

Here's a tweet I saw today, posted by @erinanmcc (and retweeted by @Andrew__Bretz, my friend in the world of academia, which is how it came to my attention). This question made me stay up late and write this post instead of going to bed.

This question has been bugging me, too, ever since I read a post by @melissaterras (another scholar I don't know at all) way back in 2014, drawing attention to a similar issue: the question of whether there were any books about academics in children's picture books, who weren't old white men. (Here's the post I'm talking about.)

Back when I read that post in 2014, the first thing I thought of, of course, was this page from Herge's The Shooting Star, one of my favourite pages in all the Tintin books, a picture gallery featuring a bunch of white European men who have been chosen to lead a scholarly expedition (along with Tintin, Snowy and Captain Haddock). This kind of confirms the stereotype.

I can't speak for representations of academics/professors in pop culture generally, but I have been wracking my brains about fictional academics as portrayed in children's literature, particularly Young Adult Fiction. And my answer is: no, there aren't too many out there, and yes, we could sure use some more!

2. E. L. Konigsburg's novels are populated by some of the smartest characters in YA lit. Mrs. Olinski, the smart, compassionate and courageous academic coach in "The View from Saturday," is next on my list. Mrs. Olinski isn't a professor at a post-secondary institution - she's a grade six teacher. But if you read this book you will agree with me that Mrs. Olinski's grade six students could hold their own with any university students you may care to mention. And she embodies those traits that the folks on Twitter have been talking about - she's a teacher who's also an inspiring female role model for readers.

A Google search led me to this photographic envisioning of Mrs. Olinski, so in hopes that the author of the page won't mind, I'll put it in here.

3. Next: Meg Murry's mom in "A Wrinkle in Time" (as depicted here in Hope Larson's graphic novel based on the book).

A scientist who makes breakfast over the bunsen burner in her home lab, she's clearly brilliant and a beloved parent into the bargain. But, is she a professor and/or affiliated with an academic institution? She seems to have isolated herself from her peers, when we meet her in the story. Maybe we can imagine that she gets reinstated into the academy after her theories are shown to be true at the end of the story (although it seems unlikely, since it's hard to imagine any traditional stodgy professors who would believe her family's account of what happened.) Her own daughter, Meg, goes on to marry a brilliant scientist while herself staying home to have something like seven children - kind of the same way Anne of Green Gables did. (By the way, what about Muriel Stacy - the teacher who inspired Anne of Green Gables to go to Queen's Academy to study to be a teacher, back in "Anne of Avonlea"? Here's a page I found all which is all about that. (Who were Anne's actual teachers at Queen's, by the way - were they all men? Ok, I digress again...)

4. Back to Madeleine L'Engle: a range of complicated, brilliant grown-ups appear in the pages of her many books (including a bunch of serious old-school female boarding school teachers in L'Engle's early novel, "The Small Rain"), but off the top of my head, I can't think of any real professors. There's Dr. Ursula Herschel in "A House Like a Lotus" - she's a neurosurgeon, I think, so presumably she's done some time at school, but we don't hear about it. In the same book, we read about a literary conference in Cyprus populated by male and female attendees - Vee and Norine are the names I remember - but if they are writers, or academics, or administrators attending the conference, I'm also not sure.  (As you have gathered by now, this post is heavy on the "I seem to recall," and light on the "actual research to confirm my vague recollections.")

8. Now for Margaret Mahy's book "Jam: A True Story," illustrated by Helen Craig.

We don't really find out, though, whether Mrs. Castle goes off to work for some kind of academic research group, or for a private corporation. So - she's smart, but she might not quite quality for what we're looking for, either, alas.

In case you're wondering who ended up looking after the little Castles - please indulge my including what may be a couple of my absolute favourite illustrations in all of children's literature: a two-page spread that lays out a tantalizing description of the a day in the life of the Perfect Househusband.

I can just imagine wives around the world drooling over this fantasy. (Mahy, who was a single parent of two, may have put some of her own fantasy into this story, as was her wont in other books she wrote, too...) Ok - I promise, that was the last digression!

Here's this month's comic strip for the Ramsay community newsletter - all about buses!

I just finished a week of graphic recording with an amazing team of people working with Calgary communities to create a vision for the city's new Green Line - so, I've spent a whole week thinking about transit. So maybe that's why I had buses on my mind when writing this comic strip!

And one more note. In case you haven't developed a finely-tuned ear that can tell different bus engines apart as they approach, you might like to take a look at this instead: a brand-new website called Transit55.ca that tracks local buses as they head along their routes. If you're like my son and you actually care which bus is coming (i.e. you really want to catch a ride on that "curved exhaust pipe" bus rather than just any old bus) - then this is the site for you! Enjoy!

"Whatever you do, do with your might.
Things done by halves are never done right."

This favourite expression of my dad's, which he learned at the knee of his own dad, was one he often repeated. It obviously made an impression upon his colleague Ross Roy, who worked with my dad for many years and became a family friend. Ross had a vision of creating an annual event to honour Peter's memory, and last year's wonderful 1st Annual Peter Burgener Memorial Charity Concert in November 2015 was the result of all his work.

Now it's 2016, and we're doing this again!

It's also an opportunity to support a good cause: all proceeds from the show will go to CAUSE Canada. CAUSE, a Canmore-based charity with which dad had a personal connection, currently works in West Africa and Central America, as part of its mandate to give assistance to vulnerable and under-assisted people.

I wanted to write about my dad, but it was hard to do. My relationship with him was sometimes rocky. Our paths didn't often cross professionally, as he was usually out among the movers and shakers of Calgary, and I was usually anywhere else, trying to figure out how to make a career out of being an introverted artsy type.

Because we didn't move in the same circles, my relationship with him was confined, I guess you could say, to the personal connection between us. That feels a bit easier to write about, and indeed, this post has turned into something of a personal essay. I'm surprised at how much there is in here about music. Anyway, here are a few glimpses, drawn from this personal view of his life, and from bits and pieces of old pictures and comic strips I have been able to dig up, in the hopes that it might inspire you to come out to the show and join in the celebration of who he was.

He got his first job in North Battleford, Saskatchewan, during which time he worked on a design for the post office in Waskesieu, north of Prince Albert. I went there this summer. It's still there.

i get the feeling my dad was impatient for bigger things, even from a young age. How did the Waskesieu post office feel to him at the time, as a measure of what he was capable of? Did it feel like a big accomplishment, or more like the first step of many? (Actually, I have the feeling he'd be horrified that the picture I'm puttiing into this blog to represent his architectural prowess is of this tiny, nondescript, unheard-of building. But his other, later projects received plenty of press - I don't need to talk about them. This building just seemed like part of a little-known story that was magical to me: the fact that my dad came here to this northern wilderness to cut his architectural teeth when I was just a couple of years old, never imagining that many years later I'd get engaged  here (in Waskesieu - not at the post office!), without, at the time, even knowing my dad had ever been there... and that I'd bring my own kids back almost ten years after that.

Dad went to Calgary for a job interview in 1975 or 76, and called my mom from a pay phone to tell her he'd been offered a job with a local firm. And so we moved to Calgary in 1976. Dad started his own firm a couple of years after that, which went through various incarnations before becoming BKDI (now Zeidler BKDI). I worked at his office a few different times, including around 1994 when I took this picture. Dad had grown up loving the folk singers of Toronto's Yorkville hippie scene, and although his taste in music took a turn in the "country" direction when he came out west, his guitar was always there.

My childhood was woven through with the sound of my dad’s guitar. Its warm blond wood, richer than the yellowed hardwood floors of our old house, was the colour of my childhood. My dad led our church's folk choir, which is why my head is forever filled with 1970's Catholic folk songs that I will pretty much never have any occasion to sing. Some of those melodies are lovely, and some not as traditional as you'd think. Dad put the words of the "Our Father" to the tune of Gordon Lightfoot's "Song for a Winter's Night"  and that was the version we sang every week. I had no idea it was a "real" song until I heard it as an adult.

As I write this at 2 AM after putting my kids to bed and doing my invoicing, I think about what it must have been like for my dad to start a small business while raising four kids. By the way, I just realized I still have the t-shirt my dad is wearing in this picture - which must have been taken just before the crash.

In the words of the Finn Brothers, which for some reason leap to mind (this often happens at 2 AM), "What became much harder was so easy then." I grew up. My parents split up. I changed my last name (for lots of reasons, including synesthesia). Even the music changed – the 80’s will do that, I guess.

My dad was still the same caring person and charismatic storyteller. But we had lots of clashes.

(It was sweet and ironic to me that, in the last year of his life, my dad developed a passion for cappuccino. Did our ability to sip coffee together at last, actually help to heal our relationship? I actually kind of think it did.)

It did seem as though everyone knew my dad. His colleague Ross joked in his eulogy, “Sometimes I introduced Peter to someone new, but that hardly every happened, since he knew everybody already.”

I can't tell you about all the ways in which my dad contributed to his city. He was part of so many boards, committees, volunteer groups, charity organizations, networking associations, mentorship programs. Often, these were places he could nurture professional connections. But just as often, he gave his time simply because he cared about helping, about creating good outcomes, about seeing the big picture for what a city or a community could be, just for its own sake. His concern for, and commitment to, his community, is something I am trying to instill in my own kids.

When my dad got sick, it gave me an opportunity to spend time with him in a way I hadn't for years. Our paths had gone different ways, but we shared the same reverence for the music of my childhood. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Those songs just evoked a simpler, happier time. I'm the most self-conscious perfomer in a family of musicians, but I played my guitar for my dad whenever I could - because he couldn't, anymore.

I asked my dad what songs he would like. “I’ll walk in the rain,” he replied instantly. The chords of John Denver’s tune came up from who knows where they had lurked for thirty odd years. Some of those songs, I hadn't heard or thought of for decades, but they all came back.

When we got the news that my dad had died, I was just about to start work. I was supposed to do some graphic recording for a full day's event with a really great local organization that my dad would have liked to know I was part of. My brother John had come out to volunteer at the event, so he was there too. Although we knew my dad's death could come at any time, we had already agreed that we wanted to be there. I had just seen him the night before. And after all, pretty much nothing could have pleased my dad more than to have known that I was finally earning my living as an artist and that my un-schmoozy brother was taking in a seminar about the value of authentic networking.

We got the phone call. There was just time to acknowledge the news and decide that we would just stay. The workshop started, and I went into the deep listening zone that I seem to go into when I am recording a talk. 

I heard the the presenter speaking, but suddenly noticed that in the background of my mind somewhere, I was hearing Simon and Garfunkel softly singing:

Hello, hello, hello, hello.
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye…
That’s all there is.

I had been working for about ten minutes when I realized I'd just drawn my dad. I drew my brothers and myself around him, hardly registering that that's what I was doing. I drew for about seven hours. That line, hello, hello, hello, hello... echoed through my head the entire time. It was certainly one of the most surreal experiences I've ever had. But it was also nice to be surrounded by good people, doing the work I want to be doing, and having a quiet space in my mind for a whole day, to start to come to terms with the loss of a person who'd been there my entire life.