I spent four hours yesterday morning participating in a mock trial—but I probably won’t be able to tell you any of the details about the case for another two years or so. Since this was an actual local case argued by the same attorneys who’ll eventually face off should it get to trial, we signed a confidentiality agreement barring us from discussing the matter for the next two years—or earlier than that, should we happen to read in the paper that a verdict in the case has been reached—so as not to tamper with the jury pool any further than was done by the staging the mock trial itself and eliminating us as potential jurors.

But what I can say is—

I found out about this from a notice in the local paper two weeks ago advertising for volunteers to take part in a jury focus group. Those accepted would receive $100 for four hours of their time. There were to be three sessions—one Friday night and the other two yesterday. I assume, but can’t say for sure, that the same case would be presented over and over to get better information on possible juror reactions.

Most people hate jury duty, but I love it, and might have volunteered even without the promise of remuneration. I’ve been on juries in Brooklyn, NY and Rockville, MD, and had fun both times.

To volunteer, I was to call a number last Monday only, and was then instructed to send an e-mail with my name, phone number, age, race, and occupation. I received a phone call the next day asking for my political party affiliation and income level, as well as whether I had a WV drivers license. After I answered those questions, I was assigned the Saturday morning session. (more…)

Long before I worked with or beside either of these guys as a comics professional, I interacted with them both in the role of annoying fan with a sketchbook. So to annoy them even further, I present two sketches I got from today’s birthday boys long ago and far away.

First up, a drawing by Neal Adams done at a July 4th Seuling con during those much more innocent days before he started charging $10.00 per sketch in ’72 or so. (And who knows what he’s charging now!)

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It was a busy week, so I ended up spending most of it with my butt in the chair and my fingers on the keyboard, not getting much of a look at the wider world outside other than what I could see by occasionally lifting my eyes and peering over my computer screen. But in the few, brief minutes I did manage to make it outside, I got to meet a few of my neighbors.

On Wednesday afternoon, while Irene was out front fertilizing the daffodils so that those of you who make it to next year’s spring party will have something to look at, she spotted a tiny wanderer on the driveway who was moving along at a … well … at a snail’s pace, and called me over to look.

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Mark Evanier reports that Tony DiPreta, best known (to me at least) as the artist of the Joe Palooka comic strip from 1959-1984, has died at the age of 88. I don’t think Palooka is much remembered today outside of comics aficionados, but it was once one of the top newspaper strips in the country, and I enjoyed it as a kid when New York had far more newspapers than it does today.

I only met DiPreta once, on September 26, 1971, at the same 75th anniversary celebration for the U.S. comic strip at which I also met Sy Barry. One reason I’m so sure of the date can be seen in the sketch I obtained from him that day.

If you click on the image below to view it at a larger size, you’ll be able to see that Joe Palooka’s right eye (well, his left actually, but it’s to your right) looks a bit … odd.

That’s because as we stood in front of the Central Park bandshell, a few raindrops fell. Two landed to smudge DiPreta’s name, and the third got the old prizefighter right in the eye. Since that event was the only time I ever begged for sketches outdoors, there can be no doubt as to the date.

I share this tidbit of info not only so you’ll take a moment to remember DiPreta … but also to show that, as some of you have hinted, why, yes, I have met almost everyone.

A week ago, Irene called me outside to see a box turtle. Yesterday, I returned the favor, and with an entirely different turtle.

I had been out in the wayback, enjoying the growth of this year’s bamboo shoots and trying to unkink my mind from the work week, and as I returned to the house, I spotted the turtle below, heading in the opposite direction. I raced back to the house, shouted for Irene to get outside, then rushed to the turtle again before it could vanish. (When turtles are of a mind to, they can move quite quickly.) By the time I returned to the turtle, no more than a minute or so later, he’d moved along maybe five feet.

The one from May 28 had been around 50 feet northeast of our house. This one was perhaps 100 feet south and slightly west of the house. (more…)

Life’s been so busy lately that I haven’t had much time to blog—but my subconscious obviously has no intention of taking a break. One morning in May I actually woke and tweeted seven dreams.

Here—for those who wish to take a tour of my sleeping mind—are 104 dreams I tweeted in May all in one place.

I dreamt I took part in a live competition to write a 5-minute script in 5 minutes to be performed (and judged) by professional actors. 9:17 AM May 31st

I dreamt I’d once appeared on Mad About You as a Fruit of the Loom fruit. I argued with another actor about which of us had been the orange. 9:14 AM May 31st

I dreamt I was telling my new wife the reasons my old wife had run off and abandoned me. Neither of these woman was my actual wife, however. 9:09 AM May 31st

I dreamt I taught an alien to treat me as an equal, and not act subserviently. But when he went off on his own, I think that got him killed. 9:07 AM May 31st

I dreamt I was in line at Disneyland with Leonard Nimoy. Great conversation! We parted before he could finish a Neal Stephenson anecdote. 9:03 AM May 31st

I dreamt I met the woman who’d put me up for adoption, and read to her childhood diary entries about how much I hated her, making her cry. 8:59 AM May 31st

I dreamt I lived in an apartment and leaned over our terrace railing watching a very polite marathon go by — the runners were single file! 8:04 AM May 30th

I dreamed I came across nine tree stumps in the woods in a three-by-three square. Standing atop two of them were Joshua Bilmes and Bob Howe. 8:00 AM May 30th

I dreamt two soaking-wet woman wearing swimsuits stood at my door holding a baby — for some reason special — that had just been born. 7:58 AM May 30th (more…)

First thing I did after waking this morning was to sit down and start working. First thing Irene did this morning was to head outside. I think she made the better choice.

But at least I got to share in the reward.

Shortly after I’d started working, the phone rang, and since it was so early, I thought, “Uh-oh, what’s wrong?” Luckily, no one had died. It was Irene calling to tell me to quickly get outside to see the box turtle wandering around our yard. “Quickly” because a turtle can move quite fast when it knows it’s being watched, and if I wanted to catch a glimpse of it, I couldn’t dawdle.

Check out the cutie below.

This was a smaller one than we saw last week—maybe only five inches long.

Irene is now one box turtle ahead of me this season (the score is 3-2), as she saw one earlier in the week about a mile down the road. Last year, we saw so many through the spring and summer (14? 16? 18?) that we lost count. I’m hoping this year proves to be the same.

I’ve autographed many artifacts over the years, but none has affected me as deeply as copies of the 1975 Marvel Con program books which arrived yesterday from a collector. One of the highlights of that program were eight pages of photos of the Bullpen as it existed 35 years ago. (You can see those photos on display over at Diversions of the Groovy Kind.)

This fan wanted to get as many of those photos signed as was still possible, but before I signed my name, I looked through those pictures of old friends, many with autographs from those who were no longer with us to autograph anything ever again, and I found myself getting choked up and near tears.

I had to set aside the books for signing until today, when was I better prepared to look through those pages without weeping.

There was Irene, looking as I’d first met her. (And there we both are below, as I’ve already shared with you.)

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Balticon is next weekend, and as usual with local cons (as local as a con two hours away can be), I tend to condense the experience into a single long day.

This year, that day will be Saturday the 29th.

Here’s where you’ll be able to track me down.

3:30 p.m.: Reading. (I’ll probably read the original story from my zombie collection What Will Come After, which I don’t think I’ve read before at either Balticon or Capclave.)

5:00 p.m.: What’s Love Got To Do With It? (What is the place of love in the stories you like to read? What does it do for the reader? with Elaine Corvidae, Maria V. Snyder, and Anthony Stevens)

See you there!

Those who’ve been waiting for all the iris neepery to come to an end can celebrate—because the last first iris has bloomed.

By which I mean that though there are plenty more still to pop, there will be no additional unseen varieties beyond this one, known as Conjuration. (That’s Gold Galore you can see off to the left behind it, and some unnamed purple iris to the right.)

For all 18 varieties that have bloomed this year, check out flickr.