Morty Comix # 2510

 

Morty Comix # 2510 was a difficult one to place.

  

It really started in 2007 in Washington, DC. I was attending a librarian conference there that year.  I'm the one in the middle. The cats are Baker and Taylor, mascots for a book distributor.

  

In the bag of conference swag I collected at that event, this plastic sheet of Presidents of the United States was included. 

So now, several years later, this Prez gallery will help me select a new home for this issue of Morty Comix.  I placed it on the floor at the end of the hallway in front of a bulletin board.

 Above the whole scene is a painting by my Aunt Pat Pearson.

   

Then I brought out my bowl of spare pennies. My daughter made this bowl long ago when she was in school. 

 

I tossed the pennies at the bulletin until one of them bounced off and landed on the presidential visages.

It didn't take long.

 

Jackson, Van Buren, Harding, and Coolidge

  

I'm looking for counties. Since there is no such place as Coolidge County in the USA I was able to disqualify Silent Cal. So before rolling the dice I assigned numbers: Jackson 2, Van Buren 3, Harding 4. Within a few rolls Harding was the winner.

There are two Harding counties in the US, but only one is named after the President. Harding County, New Mexico has a population of less than 700. I wanted to find an address in the ghost town of Rosebud, given the fact I was co-author of the role playing mystery game, Riddle at Rosebud, which was set in New Mexico, but alas, ghosts don't have mailing addresses. At the time I cooked up that title I had no idea there really was a place once called Rosebud in the Land of Enchantment.

So what I settled on was sending the comic to a bar in Mosquero, the county seat.

And I must say I find it hard to believe Warren Harding actually has a county named after him. Incredible.

My Aunt Pat Pearson and Olympia Folk Art

I grew up with 24 uncles and aunts and out of all them, my Aunt Pat Pearson (1922-2007) was the most unusual. And in my family, that is saying a lot, believe me.

In other places I have documented how wonderful my parents were in encouraging my development as a cartoonist. My Father had a genetic gift for drawing which was handicapped by his early years in grinding poverty in the Virginia Cumberland Mountains. Being great at illustrating didn't help much when one was trying to survive. But he was a great artist, just in the way he regarded life. In the rare times he drew anything, I recall being thrilled by the result. He didn't know it, but he was a poet and conceptual artist by the life he led. He took risks no sane person would take, and he was rewarded for those decisions.

My Mother, being a professional educator and the product of Washington pioneer stock (I had to slip that in), saw very early that I loved the graphic art form and really nurtured and promoted my art education. Ironically, although my Mom was not an artist herself, she recognized the strain more than my Dad, and saw that it was an important part of being human.

So I was lucky in the parent department.

So, what did my Aunt Pat contribute to this foundation?

Pat never had any children and she eventually became the stereotype Crazy Cat Lady, leaving perhaps as many 20 cats in her little apartment when she died. But when I was little she was the most glamorous woman I knew. She designed and made her own clothes. She carried herself as if she was on the runway. She was creative. And she painted.

At the time (mid-1960s) I recall being so impressed that someone I knew had actually painted a picture! In oil! That had a big impact on me. A grownup I was related to had produced a painting!

As an adult I now see her work as a form of folk art. But I honor her influence on my own creativity by hanging one of her paintings in my hallway. It is, I believe, a picture of 4th and Capitol, in Olympia, Washington, facing east in the late 19th century. 

Yes, it is not a great work of art by itself. But it means a lot to me.

 Pat's painting at the end of my hallway

 Another Pat painting

Pat, 1960

Me and my hero, my Dad, July 1959, Millersylvania

I actually recall this event in a spotty way.

So Aunt Pat, here's to your memory and contribution. You will be happy to know every single cat you left behind found a good home after you left us. And you let me know it was OK to be a grownup and creative. Thank you.