Taral Wayne: After the Piper Played

By Taral Wayne: I see that Murray has already reported on Mike Glicksohn’s Funeral at File770.com, and left little behind that I can add.

Worse, I hardly heard a word of the service.  I arrived almost exactly at seven, in time to see the piper in his kilts and bearskin, skirling “Amazing Grace.”  Next thing I knew I was being seated in a pew next to Shirley Meier.  At the altar, a woman had begun to sing an unfamiliar solo.  There was an unobtrusive prayer.  Susan Manchester spoke, then Mike’s brother,  Manning.  Mike Harper took the microphone next, and finally Robert Sawyer.  A number of other people paid their last respects from an open mike passed around.  Now and then I would make out a tantalizing “Mike” or “atheist” or “avocado” but never enough to piece together a coherent thought. 

After the service I talked with Robert Sawyer about this.  Being familiar with my hearing loss, Rob was aware that I probably heard nothing of what he said.  But he added that it was a weak mike, and that most of the speakers were too far from it as well.  I guess that made me feel a little better about missing what was evidently a very humane and entertaining service.

So I filled the time by counting heads, instead.  There were 300 seats, and most seemed filled.  My estimate is that around 275 attended, to whom I could put names to around 25.  I recognized a few other faces as well.  It did seem as though everyone in the local fandom who might have attended, did.  The other 250 I assume were friends of Mike’s, family, neighbors, and people he worked with.  Some were, indeed, Mike’s old students.

The service made no bones about Mike’s atheism and that the prayers were to console Susan more than to ease his way into the hereafter.  It was not a secular ceremony, unless one counts the piper – and no Scot would consider the pipes as anything but a religious observance.  (I wonder who among us was Scottish?)  Prayers were called and hymns sung.  Those of us who don’t attend church learn to follow the crowd and lip synch.  Yet if it was a religious funeral, it was far from stolid or grim.  As Murray took great pains to reproduce, the eulogies were sprinkled with humour and anecdotes that shed light on a man with a very positive outlook on life.

However, Murray was forced to return home right after the service, and missed the reception afterward.  I don’t think he was far off the mark for how many turned up Mike and Susan’s home. 

I should mention that the snowstorm that day was one of the worst experienced in Toronto this winter, and was clearly much later in the year than is normal.  Weather Canada warned us to expect up to 4 or 5 cm. – about  two inches to those of you who still use the “American” measure.  We got as much as 10 cm. or four inches in the space of an eight hour working day, which is outrageous at the end of March.  It was hard not to imagine some purpose behind this last minute winter-blast. 

Fortunately, the snow ended sometime during the service.  The house on Windermere was only three or four blocks away, though, so it’s all too easy to imagine 200 people trying to squeeze into a modest two-story brick building.  There was actually a line to get in out of the cold.  Once in, it was as tricky finding where to step through the boots and shoes as it would be to tiptoe through a well-planned minefield.  Once past the mountain of footgear, you came abruptly to a solid wall of humanity.  There might not have been 200 people in that house, but 75 is easy to believe. 

There was one thing you could always say about MikeCon if you came on the party night.  Mike and Susan laid out the best table you can picture, with lox and bagels, fresh pastries of all kinds, cookies, fruit, cheese, crackers and, of course, beer and wine.  Though I overheard Susan to say, “We have a little food,” the reception after the service was in no way second place to a MikeCon.  I have a weakness for such spreads.  I tend to make a pig of myself, but since I rarely have such delicacies at home, I can’t resist having one of everything.  Maybe two of those.  More of something else.  And there was plenty to go around.  I probably had a spot more wine than as good for me too.  By the end of the evening I was feeling just fuzzy enough that I knew I had to stop.

There was, after all, the long arduous trip home to consider.

The house looked a little smaller than I remembered it, but that might have been because of the crush of people.  I believe it was even more crowded than MikeCons had ever been.  Could anyone actually be this well-liked by so many people, I wondered?  I’d feel lucky if anyone found an old cardboard carton to put me in, and if six people turned up to see the box taped shut.  In a way, too, I felt a little phony being there, seething with ambivalent feelings.  But despite my ability to find the wrong motives behind anything I do, I was glad I had decided to heed the invitation.  There were people present who I hadn’t seen or spoken to in literally decades.  As well, the light-hearted air of the service continued through the reception.  There were no black veils or floral wreaths, but plenty of warm, humorous conversations.  Many were about Mike, but as many about the use of Photoshop to imitate oil painting, popular vers libre, Edwardian architectural details, Kinder Surprises, blue cheeses, and when the next issue of Colin Hinz’s fanzine was coming out.  Just out of earshot I overheard Lloyd Penney discuss details of a Glicksohn scholarship with David Warren.  There was even a debate over whether it was better to stand out in the cold on the verandah that endure the crush inside, but it was a very short debate as the cons quickly won their point.

Over it all presided Susan, who was warm, open and friendly to all.

You just wished it had been merely a MikeCon of yore.  During a momentary lull, shortly before I left, I asked Susan a question I had been dreading to bring up.  The best way I was able to put it was, “I know this is too soon to ask, but I doubt I’ll have opportunity to speak with you again for some time.  I wonder if you have made arrangements to donate Mike’s fanzines to the Merril Collection at the Library?”  I needn’t have worried.  She wasn’t offended.  In fact, arrangements were being made. 

It was too bad there was no whiskey.  Perhaps it might have flowed for me if I had asked, but none was served openly.  Although I despise the vile taste of the stuff,  I would liked to  have hoisted one in Mike’s honour.

Taral Wayne: SFContrario Observations

SFContario has come and gone, leaving me with very mixed set of feelings.
 
On the whole, the con seemed well managed, though somewhat on the lavish side.  I wondered how they would pay for it all, on a budget of three hundred or four hundred members, tops.  For example, all the concom had their own special staff t-shirt –  there seemed to be more than one design, in fact.  The con gave out recyclable fiber bags with their logo on one side.  I think that must have been paid for mainly by advertising on the other side.  The program book looked considerably better than Torcon 3’s.  As well, the consuite was generous in providing cheeses, soft drinks, bagels and spreads, hot food and veggies.
 
If I were to make a complaint, it’s that there was too much program.  Usually there were two major and two minor events at all times during the bulk of the day, running to late at night.  If you were the sort who absolutely must hear some talking heads at the front of the room discuss SF and the environment, or fandom vs. the internet for the 8th time, there wasn’t much time left for hanging out and talking with your friends. Strangely, most people in fact seemed to me to have their noses buried in the program schedule an awful lot of the time.  It must the growing stuffiness of fandom – even the older hands seemed to be sitting to hear the same old sercon that was more or less familiar from thirty years ago.  Oh well…  they do call themselves science fiction fans.

All I saw of the program, myself – and of some of the Con Guests, even Michael Swanwick – were the Opening Ceremonies and one panel.  I wanted to stay through to the end of a panel on SF and science that Bob Wilson and Robert Sawyer were on, but I couldn’t follow the discussion. Sawyer rang loud and clear like a bell.  Bob, naturally soft-spoken, came through about 50% of the time.  But I know as well as the next person how bad my hearing is and was resigned to leaving early.  Mikes might have been a big help, even in that modest sized program rooms.

Taken in its entirety, the convention hotel was well-located in regard to transportation and restaurants.  The con suite and other rooms I saw were or reasonable size, though somewhat eccentric.   Because of the layout, you could not really reach the bathroom or other sitting room without going through the middle of the main room and interrupting whoever was talking there.  Program facilities were more than adequate, though spread out surprisingly far for a small hotel.  The one exception to adequacy was the tiny, wretched, ill-lit hole under the lobby stairs that had been set aside for the art show. 

The work of only four or five artists was on display, and none was original that I could see –  only digital print-outs and lithographed repros.  The Artist GoH – Billy Tackett –  had one end of the room for his prints.  They were what you would see on his website –  paintings of Dracula or Tor Johnson rising from the grave, except even more ghastly looking, if possible.  The artist himself was thin, dressed entirely in black and wore a “bad-ass” cowboy hat… also black.  Actually, he looked more the sort who would be more comfortable in a cinder-block biker bar with a neon Coors sign in the window.  He was from rural Kentucky… where that may well be the general fashion sense.

The dealers room had at most ten dealers.  I can recall eight or nine, but will allow for another one or two that I don’t remember.   Bakka was there, three or four small press reps and the authors they published kept a vigil, and a collector or two who was selling his surplus pretty much filled the room.  They were almost all in the book business, one way or the other.  One dealer was filk-singer – whose name meant nothing to me – with his DVD’s.  One other table that was nothing but hand-made Victorian jewelry.   I have no idea who buys that sort of thing –  costumers?   Gypsies?  I don’t think business was brisk, but Bakka assured me that they would do alright.
 
As small cons go, I’d say SFC was top-heavy with costuming and filking.  There was a prominent Steampunk event.  There was at one time two simultaneous filk events.  As well, the con featured a spin-off of Dr. Horrible’s “sing-along-whatever.”  I counted three anime panels — in fact, I was on one of them, which was surprisingly lively and one of my personal favorite hours during the con.  The bottom line is that SFC was more “literary” than Ad Astra has been for years, but not quite as “literary” as it seems to me they had been presenting themselves.
 
Mike Glicksohn and Susan Manchester attended on Friday, but not Saturday or Sunday.  He’s looking well, considering his chemotherapy.
 
I did four panels, and was exhausted by Saturday evening.  I won’t go into the details of what’s wearing me out so easily, but by the time I had finished my last panel I felt I had seen everything and had nothing left to do.  People at the con seemed constantly busy, so trying to work up a small talk in the halls was often wasted effort.  I seemed to be meeting actual discouragement from some of them.  Apart from helpful staff, the con suite was occupied by a couple of the usual bores whose stories I had heard the day before.  I really didn’t know what to do with myself at that point.  I left for home at a surprisingly early hour – 8 p.m.
 
For me the con was a bumpy ride with several ups and downs.  I loved being on the Studio Ghibli panel with René Walling and some English dude from Anime North.  We obviously all knew the subject well, were passionate about the films of Hayao Miyazaki, and had the desire to communicate that passion.  Another of my panels, on the effect of digital technology on pubbing, went fairly well, I thought. Several usable suggestions were made that Bill Burns needs to hear about.  A third panel – on why fans accept some movies and TV shows as legit SF but not others –  I think could be counted a success.  The most fannish panel I participated in was the one I ended up being least enthusiastic about.  It was a round-robin in which good fanwriting was demonstrated by readings and discussion.  While the other participants were probably pleased with the proceedings, I thought we were largely going through the motions. 

When I enjoyed myself at SFC, I really did.  What does it say, though, that my peak experience may have been going around the corner with Bob & Sharry Wilson to have a hamburger?  (It was the only time I ate out at the con, in fact.  No one asked, and I didn’t notice anyone leaving either.)  Other moments, though, were like those recurrent bad memories I have of cons from the Old Days – SFC was often exactly like some of the dullest, most pointless times I spent at cons in the 70s and 80s, when I was desperate to engage in small talk with perfect strangers at 2 a.m. …because otherwise there would have been nothing to do at all.
 
I think I may have just outgrown that sort of thing…  Maybe outgrown conventions, even.  At some age, a good hamburger or a good night’s sleep becomes better than any con. 

SFContario next year will be held at the same Ramada Plaza on Jarvis Street, November 19-20, 2011.  Guests already confirmed are John Scalzi, Karl Schroeder, Gardner Dozois and “Toyboat.”  http://sfcontario.ca/home-2011

Overserved at The Drink Tank?

Two of the last three Best Fan Writer Hugos have been won by Hugo nominated novelists. Taral vents his frustration that more people don’t find this controversial in “The Way the Futurian Blogs,” an article in The Drink Tank #259 (PDF file). I’m not a fan of the accompanying graphic, an altered paperback cover of Pohl with a hole in his head — both distasteful and disrespectful.

Also not very perceptive, if the idea behind the image is to fault Pohl for winning. Pohl did not ordain this result, his victory came out of a popular movement. I understood this much better after hearing the tone in Andrew Trembley’s voice as he told fans at Westercon how much he loved reading anecdotes about the history of the sf field on Fred Pohl’s blog. At that moment I thought d’oh! I’d forgotten what it is like to hear these stories for the first time. Some I heard as a young fan from Pohl’s First Fandom contemporaries. Others I read in Pohl’s 1978 autobiography The Way the Future Was. To the latest generation of science fiction fans they are brand new. And they’re great stories. And they’re about science fiction, which (big news here) a lot of science fiction fans still find interesting.

Yes, I tried to persuade fans to go in another direction and vote for someone else. Somebody who’s not already a famous sf writer. Guess what? I lost. World ends, film at 11? No, and what’s more, I’m even allowed to like the winner.

Taral Fills The Drink Tank

Taral will soon be making his 50th contribution to Chris Garcia’s frequent fanzine The Drink Tank as we reported not long ago. But then the dynamic duo asked themselves — why stop there? Taral writes:

You might be amused that the entire issue of Drink Tank 258 will be written and drawn by myself, with the exception of some photos found with Google. Chris and I cooked up the idea when discussing the upcoming 50th Drink Tank article by me. I’ve already written three articles for it, an editorial, and all the locs. I “invited” Chris to write a guest editorial, and he’s doing all the production work.

Taral Nears 50th Contribution to Drink Tank

Taral Wayne soon will send his 50th contribution to Chris Garcia’s frequent fanzine The Drink Tank.

Taral’s first appearance came relatively late in the zine’s history — issue 153, responding to Frank Wu’s interview questions. Since then he’s found it a great outlet for his work. He recently sent Chris his 46th article and knows the other four are bound to follow. 

“Those articles are among the best I’ve ever got to publish!” says Chris. “It’s been an absolute pleasure to have them and I hope he’ll keep sending them and allowing me to make it up to 100!”

Taral’s loyalty is readily explained: “The big advantage of DT is that Chris will publish ephemera that will date in as little as a month and doesn’t add isn’t the sort of headliner suited to Banana Wings or Trapdoor.”

Taral has become such a prolific contributor, admits Chris, that “In the last year, Taral has had more words in The Drink Tank than I have (at least count). I don’t think I’d managed to have done half as many issues as I managed in the last year-and-a-half without him on board!”

Click for Taral's handwritten list of his articles for The Drink Tank.

The SpaceX Files

NASA has awarded a big contract to resupply the space station to a private company, SpaceX, started by PayPal co-founder by Elon Musk in 2002.

A successful launch of the company’s Falcon 9 rocket on June 4 was the first of three test flights for NASA. Supply missions could begin in 2011. The contract calls for a dozen flights and gives NASA an option to order more.

SpaceX executives have many reasons to be happy about the latest development. Not the least is the hope it brings that their Falcon rocket will become memorable for something besides the failed attempt to orbit the remains of astronaut Gordon Cooper and actor James Doohan, something  Taral Wayne still hasn’t gotten over:

It’s really kind of sad, considering how Scotty was last seen in ST:TNG, preserved in a transporter loop for decades, and then free to roam the galaxy again. In reality the poor dimp falls back to earth and ends up as just another whiff of smog.

[Thanks to Taral for the story.]

Anticipation Is Makin’ Me Wait

Actually the waiting is over! Chris Garcia has posted the highly entertaining Fanzine Cover In An Hour featuring art improvised at Anticipation by Taral, Marc Schirmeister and Steve Stiles.

The zine’s official title is rather longer and here is Chris’ explanation of how he ended up with “Go Drop Dead” An Anticipation Fanzine in an Hour…kinda

The theme for the art, which I got from the audience was…tentacles and airships! It did my heart good, being such a fan of both Cthuhlu and Steampunk. I asked folks for a suggestion for a title, particularly bothering Marc [Schirmeister], who told me to ‘Go Drop Dead”. That is how titles are made!

In one of several short articles between the drawings of tentacles and airships Chris Garcia pays tribute to poutine, a Canadian comfort food that may possibly taste good but does not photograph well. It looks a lot scarier than all those sketches of Cthulhu.

A Satisfied Customer

Taral bought copies of the 2009 Hugo Award DVD and has this to say about the experience:

I just got the two copies I ordered from the website. While the disks were reasonably priced, the shipping & handling was outrageous, I thought. It was actually more than the cost of the DVD! I bought two, since it made the S&H seem a little less ridiculous, spread out over a pair.

The packaging is the standard plastic snap-shut case, with art borrowed from one of the con pubs. Nobody asked me, but I don’t mind that. I do mind that there was no credit to the artist, anywhere.

Production seemed good, though, to be honest, there was more than enough space for the Opening & Closing ceremonies as well. I noticed some edits. It’ll play on the computer with some program like Power DVD, but not Windows MP. Plays on the TV of course.

I’ve read Taral’s evaluations of many things over the years and taking everything into account I believe this is a favorable review…