Ramblings Of A Man Named Joseph Carro

Posts tagged “Death

Mike Wieringo

Posted on December 8, 2018

Almost a full decade ago, I had the pleasure of meeting one of my favorite comic book writers – Todd Dezago. He made an appearance at the first ever Coast City Comicon here in Portland, Maine. Due to scheduling conflicts, I couldn’t attend the con for more than a day and thus I didn’t meet him that year – but the following year I finally made it when he came back. I caught him at one point when he was sitting by himself at his booth. I never imagined I would get any one-on-one time with him, but it was important that I talk to him because if I was a fan of Todd Dezago, I was doubly a fan of the amazing Mike…

The Cranberries

Posted on December 7, 2018

The Cranberries have always had a place in my rotating list of music. When I first discovered them, I was living in Exeter, New Hampshire and going to high school. When I first heard the song “Linger” – with Dolores O’Riordan’s ethereal voice singing the bittersweet lyrics – I immediately connected with it, being an emotional and disenfranchised teen boy. I had been infatuated with a girl in the neighborhood, and at the time, I was consumed by her. No matter what I did, however, it was not meant to be. We were really close in the long run, but it would only ever become a friendship and eventually not even that because time moves on and people change, including me and especially her.…

Excelsior: My Tribute To Stan Lee

Posted on November 13, 2018

*Artwork by me.   I don’t have any photos with Stan Lee. I was never lucky enough to meet the man in real life – So, on top of that, I also don’t have any touching anecdotes about how I met him in an elevator once, or how I sat down next to him at a convention, or anything else I’ve been grateful to read about him on the day of his death. Stan Lee never encountered me once during the 95 years he roamed our Earth – he didn’t know I even existed. And yet the mark he left on me was indelible, and though he didn’t know I existed – he knew lots of people LIKE me. I was an archetype in…

Anxiety

Posted on November 11, 2018

Anxiety is a fickle thing, and it lies dormant within your brain, your soul, until you least expect it. It often rears its head at the most inopportune and vulnerable moments and leaves you scared it will happen again. I have wrestled a lot with anxiety in my life, and it stems from multiple events – and the symptoms are triggered when my body is attacked by lots of different stress all at once or over a long period of time. The first time I had a “real” panic attack, I was sitting on the couch at home by myself. My wife at the time had just gone to work, and I was eating re-heated stuffed shells that her mother had made for us…

Ludo

Posted on November 3, 2018

I’ve always had a soft spot for cats, dogs, and other household pets. When I was just a boy, we had a black cat we’d named Blackie (I know that sounds racist, but he was named actually after a local Frenchman who ran a convenience store right next door to us – the store was named “Blackie’s”). Blackie was my first ever pet, and as such – he earned a particularly love-filled spot in my heart that never completely healed when we were forced to get rid of him. I was only four or five years old when we did. Fast forward to me now in my thirties, and I have yet to have a pet to call my absolute own, though I now…

Bob

Posted on September 23, 2018

The last time I ever saw Bob alive, he took me aside toward the end of one of his shifts. Business had slowed, we were cleaning up. I was rearranging some product in the front of the store. “Hey,” he said, rolling up his apron and throwing on his hat. His voice was a bit gravelly, and he cleared his throat as he continued. “I just want to tell you that I appreciate working with you.” “Thanks, Robert,” I said. “I appreciate that.” He nodded, throwing on his jacket. I had been kneeling and slowly brought myself up from my knees and onto my feet, dusting my hands off at my sides. “It gets a little crazy here sometimes,” he continued. “I like that…

My Father’s Painting

Posted on August 3, 2018

*The image used is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow by Thomas Buchanan.   I’m sitting underneath a painting of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It’s a stately painting, and the man who created this work of art is the man who is supposed to be my biological father. Longfellow’s stern, bearded countenance is aimed down at me as I slug on a dark beer in a cold glass. My own face and beard, less gray and less lined, are lit by a combination of votive candles and streetlights. A mirror hanging on the wall next to my head reveals all this from time to time whenever I deign to gaze back at the man I see before me, the reflection of myself in my 30’s. The dichotomy of…