18: Yin, Yang, Jerry Falwell and The Spiders From Mars*

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by Lew

RANDOLPH, VT – *The title alludes to an album by David Bowie, entitled “The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars.” It tells the story of a fictional guitarist named Ziggy Stardust and his band The Spiders From Mars and their rise to stardom. It is a story detailing the detrimental effects of fame and fortune and what happens when one thinks they are greater than their bretheran. I know Savannah Guy and a few others may have understood the reference, but doubted that CL and Bob were listening to Glam Rock in the 70’s.

My little story also speaks to the duality of the universe and it’s often opposing forces. We all encounter this duality daily-Day and Night, Hot and Cold, Sunny or Rainy. Pitch and Hit. Home and Away. DH or no DH. You get the idea. The Yin and Yang of life-wonderful concept, that. We’ve all seen the collision of these forces-A pitching duel between Gibby and Koufax. A slugfest at Wrigley or at the Green Monster. Strikes when greedy players argue with greedy owners. We also see what transpires when hot and cold air masses collide-Thunderstorms which make Bob quit blogging and his computer to self destruct. Yes, much can happen when forces collide, but more on that later.

Much has been discussed on this blog about Heroes, Legends, Icons and Roll Models (don’t blame me for the spelling, I hang out with Beet Writers). With the recent steroid scandals, much has been discussed about their feet of clay (had to get at least one podiatric reference in, right?). We’ve also spoken much about our enjoyment of everything from baseball, to family and friends, to sci fi movies. I even talked about some of my favorites in my last blog.

My interest in all forms of science fiction and fantasy has by necessity, led me to attend Sci Fi conventions (Cons, as they are known). I’ve gotten some of my best art jobs at these events and made some pretty decent money along the way. I’ve made many friends there. I’ve also gotten the opportunity to meet many authors, artists and actors associated with the genre (note the alliteration, Oh Scribe). I’ve met R2D2 (Kenny Baker and his wife are nice people). I’ve met actors from Horror Films, Star Wars, Battlestar Galactica, and Star Trek. I’ve seen numerous fans dressed as Fairies, Witches, Wizards, Barbarians, Hobbits and Elves. I’ve seen others dressed as Romulans, Cardassians, Vulcans, Borg and Klingons. Many Klingons. Multitudes of Klingons. Hordes of Klingons. They are actually a common sight at these cons. But not in Lynchburg, Va. in 1993, at Kaliedoscope, the area’s first sci fi convention.

This was a good event, as these things go. I made several life long friends at this one. It was also significant for me because it was the first time I had been invited as a Guest Artist-a pretty big deal all those years ago. I also got to meet with one of my own icons (some may only have cowboys as heroes, but I prefer authors and artists), the author Roger Zelazy, for the final time before he died.. It was also my first time in Lynchburg, an old southern town which is also the home of the Late Evangelist Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University.

Now as discussed earlier, forces collide. Air masses meet and thunderstorms send Bob scurrying on Pruny Toes back to his hot tub. It seems that this particular September Sunday every year, was the annual brunch for the Reverend Falwell’s congregation-here in the very hotel where all these denizens of sci fi fandom frivolously frolicked and otherwise reveled. In the lobby (If I was a Prophet, I would Not have stayed at a Holiday Inn Express, last night), a quartet of The Reverend’s choir gave a recital. The throng of Star Fleet Officers, Fairy Princesses, and Wizards listened intently. The singers were quite good and we are a cultured lot, after all, despite our various eccentricities. When they finished, we applauded heartily. The Reverend was not amused. Then the Klingons arrived.

Reverend Falwell stopped in mid sentence at the microphone. His eyes went wide and he turned ghostly white. He turned on heel and walked through the front door of the hotel, congregation trailing behind. They never returned, not even in subsequent years. Bob, though not even there, refused to leave his hot tub for a week. That is why Bob is wrinkled. He’s not really old, just Pruny.

Just a normal day in Dixie. Bob got old. Jerry met the Klingons. Cultures merged momentarily. I witnessed the Fall of Ziggy Stardust. Like I said, just an normal day.

by Lew

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