I dreamed about my father this morning, which made sense, because today is his birthday, and he was supposed to have turned 79. I write “supposed to,” because he died on January 27, 2009.

In my dreams, I never know that, though. When I see my grandmother Grace in my dreams, I’m always initially confused, and ask her, “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?” To which she always replies, “Yes.” And then I shrug, let it pass, and we go on with whatever else is happening in the dream.

But when I see my father in my dreams, I’m never confused, never think he should be dead and wonder why he’s still alive. I’m just happy he’s there, and that we’re doing together whatever it is we’re doing.

But he’s not here today, so we can’t do anything together. At least … not when I’m awake.

Because I can’t think of anything better to say to commemorate him, I’ll share again what I posted back on February 3, 2009, a week after his death:

My father, Barnet “Barney” Edelman, seen with me below in our last picture together, passed away one week ago today.

He had been ailing for quite a while from a variety of illnesses, including congestive heart failure, but what finally took him from us was either polymyositis or dermatomyositis. Though his agonizing symptoms seemed consistent with one or both of those, his doctors were never really sure, as he was not responding to any medications. As his body withered, his many physicians were puzzled, and wished they had a Gregory House on staff to solve the medical mystery. (more…)

Half an hour ago, I was outbid for a unique piece of comics memorabilia. Such a thing had never been sold before, so I had no way of gauging its value or eventual price. I was willing to pay a couple of hundred bucks, but it ended up going for $1,000, far too rich for my blood, especially considering the plans I had, about which more below.

So what just sold for $1,000? Why, this—

Any idea, before you scroll down, exactly what that is? Well, yes … hair. Anyone could tell that.

But whose hair? (more…)

Mike Davis over at Lovecraft eZine already shared my news about Wilum Pugmire, but for those who don’t read his blog and only know of Wilum’s condition due to my own previous post, I thought I should take note of it here as well.

I phoned Wilum (seen below at World Horror Con 2008) last night, and he sounded in much better sprits—and much stronger— than he had Sunday night. His voice was steadier, and he was more easily able to engage in conversation.

He’d been visited in the hospital yesterday by S. T. Joshi, Jessica Amanda Salmonson, and a couple of others, and they all arrived at the same time, which he says was fun, though a bit tiring.

He also said he’s been undergoing lots of tests, and is waiting to learn whether the doctor will sign off on the results. He was hopeful that he’d be released this morning at 9:00 a.m. (that’s Seattle time), but added that he probably won’t know anything definitive until the morning. (You know how hospitals can be—you often don’t know until the last minute whether or not you’re really going home.)

He also said that he’s thankful for all the good wishes, and apologized in advance for the fact that he won’t be strong enough to respond to each one individually. When he gets out, he’ll try to do one brief video blog (you can find his YouTube channel here) letting us know that he’s home, and then rest.

So let’s keep our fingers crossed that all goes well today.

I’m not sure exactly when I received this rejection slip from Charlie Ryan, because for some reason my records don’t reflect any submissions to Galileo. But since the magazine was only published from 1977-1980, there’s a very small window during which this could have been generated. Also, since I’d never have sent him a horror story, my possible submissions were few.

In any case, here’s another example of a rejection slips from a dead magazine that should allow all you writers out there to revel in some schadenfreude.

Charlie went on to publish Aboriginal, yet another of his magazines I never cracked. I liked Charlie, and remember fondly a number of Indian dinners we shared during the earlier days of Readercon.

There haven’t been any such meals in quite awhile as our paths no longer cross—he’s gafiated and is now the editor of The Willimantic Chronicle.

Michael Davis, who runs the Lovecraft eZine, reports that Wilum Pugmire was hospitalized on Thanksgiving due to heart problems, and has been given a distressing diagnosis.

According to Mike:

He told me that the prognosis keeps getting worse each day—the doctors are, in his words, treating him like a terminal patient. He said he honestly does not know if he’s going to die or not. However, he’s in really great spirits. He told me that if he does die, he has accomplished everything he set out to do. He had the goal years ago of wanting to be known as a Lovecraftian writer, and he feels he has done that. I replied that not only has he accomplished it, but that I agree with Will Hart—he is the world’s greatest living Lovecraftian writer.

He has a relative bringing him a couple of Lovecraftian books tomorrow—he says if he dies, he wants to do it with a Lovecraft book on his chest.

In addition to being a wonderful writer, Wilum is also a heck of a lot of fun to hang around with, which we did a lot of during the 2008 World Horror Convention in Salt Lake City (among other places):

I’d been hoping to see him again in March when the WHC returned to Salt Lake City. And I’m still hoping. What do doctors know anyway? After all, Cthulhu wants Wilum healthy, and Cthulhu chews up doctors and spits them out. (more…)

As news of Anne McCaffrey’s death at 85 started coming out this afternoon and bouncing around Facebook and Twitter, most commented on her work, on the words on the page, but what first popped into my mind, even though, yes, the stories were wonderful, was instead a moment at the 2005 Nebula Awards weekend in Chicago.

Because of the ocean that stretched between us during our fannish and professional lives, even though I’ve attended hundreds of conventions over the years, I only got to chat with Anne McCaffrey a handful of times. But among those times were some of my favorite con experiences.

One took place that Chicago weekend, which included a moment with me, Anne, and Joe Haldeman that was captured below.

She’d been named a SFWA Grand Master that weekend, and was in high spirits. Even though I’m no longer sure exactly what led up to me and Joe each giving her a smooch, I do very much recall her smiling, laughing, joyful.

Another encounter I remember fondly took place back in 1994 when I was editing Science Fiction Age and had been contacted by the Make-A-Wish Foundation to help a young boy’s dream come true. He wanted to meet his science fiction idols, chief among them Anne. I reached out to her, and even though she had many demands on her time that weekend, she spent a couple of hours with the boy answering his questions and giving him writing advice.

It’s times like those I choose to spend my time thinking about tonight. There’ll be plenty of time for mourning later.

It’s been far too long since I last gave you an opportunity to feel some healthy schadenfreude by letting you lord it over a magazine that’s no longer with us. So here’s a new installment in my series of rejection slips from dead magazines, focused on a title from an editor whose name has become somewhat infamous since this slip was sent to me twenty years ago.

Back in 1991, I sent off a story titled “Apartment 6-D” to The Quarterly, edited by Gordon Lish. (Yes, Gordon Lish.) I haven’t reread that story in years, but as I think back on it, it seems from this vantage point that Lish was entirely right to reject it, showing far better judgment than the editor who eventually published it.

At the time, I was unaware (we were all unaware) of Lish’s heavy-handed editing of the early works of Raymond Carver. Now that the details are out, I’m no longer quite the fan I once was.

This remains, however, a masterful rejection slip.

I’ve been working so hard all week (and this weekend, too) that I’ve been forced into silence here since Saturday. But since three things equal a post, how about we let these pics stand in for my week?

First, a lovely pic Irene snapped of me with Geoff Landis and Mary Turzillo at my favorite local dim sum restaurant, New Fortune. While on their way to Maryland for a scientific conference, Geoff and Mary swung through West Virginia Saturday night and had dinner at the Edelman-Vartanoff homestead, followed the next day by shumai over in Maryland, which Irene and I ran over to share.

It was good to play catch-up outside of the madness of a convention.

Next up, a pic of that shows old Marvel pal Bill Mantlo, whose medical woes were recently reported on at length, in far happier times. I published it in the December 1974 issue of Marvel’s official fan magazine, FOOM. It was part of a strange idea I had of running baby pictures of artists and writers, and while everyone else turned in the real thing, Bill came up with this.

And that’s how I’d rather remember him. (more…)

October was a rather light month in terms of my dream life—or should I say, my remembered dream life—because I’ve always understood that we all have dreams whether we remember them or not. In any case, three consecutive weekends of travel—Capclave, followed by a trip with Irene to her NJ Romance Writers Convention, after which I headed to San Diego for World Fantasy Con—meant there were an awful lot of mornings during which, when I’d wake, I could feel the dreams slip away.

Here’s what remained.

Special guests this month include Martin Scorsese, Rick Grimes, Andy Rooney, Sean McNamara, Paul Di Filippo—and maybe you.

October 2011 Dream Tweets

I dreamt I lived in the rental apartment at which our landlord insisted we no longer use our lawnmower on the carpets. So I broke the lease. 31 Oct

I dreamt Cap’n Crunch fell from a great height, and I stood over his lifeless form crying for him to get up. But the Cap’n was dead. 29 Oct

I dreamt I attended a wedding ceremony performed entirely in Hebrew, understood nothing, and felt like a bad Jew. Well, until the food came. 28 Oct

I dreamt The Office’s Dwight Schrute gave me relationship advice on how best to get along with Irene, and I was wise enough to ignore it. 28 Oct

I dreamt I was hanging around a humongous BBQ grill with The Walking Dead’s Rick Grimes and chatting about how life used to be. 28 Oct

I dreamt I returned from a visit to an alternate universe and was desperately trying to blow up the portal before anyone could follow me. 26 Oct

I dreamt that during a banquet at Irene’s romance writer conference I tried to help our waitress clear the table and only made things worse. 25 Oct

I dreamt I messed up telling Richard Lupoff how much I looked forward to his new novel by misdescribing the ending of his previous book. 25 Oct

I dreamt my son wouldn’t move to a rural area because it would be difficult without a car to carry soda. I said I’d ship him all he needed. 25 Oct

I dreamt I read a letter in the local paper from a woman advocating a ban on synagogues. Irene told me it’d never pass, but I still worried. 25 Oct (more…)

I’ve never thought of myself as an oblivious kind of guy, but I guess I must be, as the following anecdote will prove …

I was traveling home from last weekend’s World Fantasy Convention, and as I passed through the San Diego International Airport skybridge that connects the rental car shuttle drop-off island and the terminals, I noticed a life-sized Steve Canyon (alongside other cartoon characters) decal on the glass. Nearby was a stand stuffed with double-sided cards promoting an ongoing exhibit of cartoonists celebrating flight. I picked up one of the cards you see below, and then, since I was a couple of hours early for my flight, tried to track the thing down.

So I went to an information booth and asked where I could find the exhibit referred to on the card and advertised on the decals. Clueless volunteers sent me from one terminal to another in search of an alcove where the exhibit was purported to be, until someone finally figured out that those initial decals I saw weren’t an ad—they WERE the exhibit.

For those who won’t be passing through the San Diego Airport, here’s how the six panels looked from ground level.

You can find photos of the individual panels—featuring Canyon, Snoopy as the Red Baron, Comic-Con cofounder Shel Dorf, and more—over on Flickr.

So where does my obliviousness come in? Evidently, the passageway was decorated like that prior to Comic-Con, and so I would have passed by it back in July both coming and going … and never noticed it!