All posts by Gary Stuber

About Gary Stuber

Gary Lee Stuber is a West Virginia, Conservative Independent, Christian, Veteran Marine, Disabled, Retired, Widowed, Father of five, Grandfather of twenty-five, Great Grandfather of ten so far, lifetime Marvel comic book reader, former comic collector and dealer, Marvel comic historian, former Dungeon Master, gamer, artist, writer, editor, pre-press manager and all around graduate of the school of hard knocks. He was born in Hardin County Ohio in 1953, raised in Dunkirk, Ohio, the oldest of six and married his pen pal, the former Joyce Kay Brown of Maysel, in Clay County, West Virginia in 1974, and became a West Virginian at that time too. He is a good guy who would have been a superhero but has never been bitten by or doused by anything radioactive.

Best Grandma, Ever

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This was written years ago and edited early in 2022.  On December 10 of 2022 after a seven month struggle with an unusually rare illness, Joyce passed away.  This coming Valentines Day would have been our 49th wedding anniversary in our 50 year journey together.

Let us talk about grandmas

Let’s talk about grandmas. I was fortunate. I had four of them who shaped my life. My mom’s mom Orthello Fout; her mother grandma Riegle; my dad’s mom Leonora Stuber, and my grandfather Jonathan Fout’s mother Sara Elizabeth James.

Sara James
Sara James

Great Granny James outlived them all, passing away well over 112 years. She was a card, telling it like it was, a single working mother like Rosie the Riviter who rolled cigars for work and made bathtub gin when unemployed. She could see through all the bull crap.

Leonora Stuber
Leonora
Stuber

Grandma Stuber was blind and crippled due to diabetes. She “saw” me by feeling my face with her soft wrinkled fingers. She was the first person to die in my life. I was six. It was traumatic for me as it was the first and only time I saw my father cry. He was named after her, as I was named after him, as one of my daughters was named after them.

Riegle
Riegle

Grandma Riegle kept chickens. I helped butcher 30 of them, shortly before she passed.

Orthello Fout
Orthello Fout

My favorite was Grandma Fout. My mom’s mom lived three doors down from me for the first six years of my life. Then she lived three blocks away for the rest of her life. This is the person I knew as grandma. I see her still in my daughter Leona. The long red outta control curly hair, the freckles that covered her body, the optimistic “let me do that. I can do it” attitude.

One grandma set the standard

Orthello baby sat us, and often just came over to pick us up (and sometimes mom) just to drive us everywhere. We fished at the quarry in Dunkirk, Ohio, off the Blanchard River or the banks of Lake St. Mary’s. Sometimes we’d go visiting Grandma Riegle, Aunt Pat, Viola, or others. Sometimes we’d go window shopping, or actual shopping at Goodwill in Kenton. We’d go strawberry picking down the railroad track. Sometimes we’d drive with no destination in mind. She was a big part of our life. She died when I was 10 in 1963. I still tear up when we sing old rugged cross in church because I learned to sing her favorite song while sitting on her lap. What can I say. I had some awesome grandmas.

One grandma exceeded the standard

Unfortunately, my wife, born Joyce Kay Brown, never knew her grandparents. They were all long dead before she was born. Many times I have felt so sorrowful for her missing out on this joy. She did get to know and love my granny James. But I am sorrowful no more. While she did get to see her parents become grandparents, it’s hardly the same. But with such little experience she has become the best of the best.

That’s right. Having seen six grandmas and four grandpas in action up til 1992, I can truly say that since that time when Joyce became a grandma she is truly the best I have known.

Latest granddaughter, Annabelle agrees. Mamaw is the best!
Latest granddaughter, Annabelle agrees. Mamaw is the best!

Excuse me: Mamaw. She would never be called grandma. Maybe it’s the sheer volume, having been mamaw to twenty-five grandchildren and seven great grandchildren.  With experience like that you got to get good being grandma.

More likely however it is because she has a child’s attitude. Like my grandma Orthello, Joyce concentrates on the fun things to do with her grandkids. And sometimes they treat her more like a playmate than a parent (pseudo-mom). But she also taught them life skills like sewing, knitting and crocheting almost a lost old-school talent.   She was fierce with anyone who might harm them and loved them with a gentle humor they have all embraced. And she taught them cleaning skills passed down from her own mother:  when you clean, no half-measures  everything in the room gets moved to sweep under or behind.

Another factor, which started with her own mother, is that she puts their interests first. No matter where she is, her eyes go to the thing that one of the grandchildren “would just love. We have to get this.” More often than not, we do.

It appears that Papaw’s Rule (“When we go in the store we don’t ask for anything, or, you’ll go to the car until I’m done.”) is meant to be overruled perpetually by Mamaw when she is with us.

While I always tell people that my grandchildren are my toys and that I am their favorite plaything: I know the truth. That is why kids go to “GRANDMA’s house,” and not “Grandpa’s house.” Although it is cool that he lives at Grandma’s house too. It’s the way of the world. I have no chance here.

I must admit, watching all of this with fascination, that my grandma Orthello was ALMOST this good. However, I will admit that Joyce is the best grandma (oh, excuse me) Best Mamaw, ever!

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America Should Resist Revisionist History

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What’s wrong with revisionist history

image
Aside from the obvious moral dilemma that happens from out right distortion of established truth, there are other reasons to oppose revisionist history.

Let’s define what we mean

First let’s define what we are talking about. History as we usually define it means the linear passing of time established by a record of facts by persons or their contemporaries usually through witnessed observations often written or otherwise recorded along the line of the lifetime of those participants.

Can actual history be distorted? Yes. People lie, or simply ignore certain truth in their oral, written, audio, video or otherwise recorded timeline.

But I would argue, is it a lie, if EVERYONE in the time line acknowledges the events of that timeline regardless if facts are hidden or otherwise ever brought to light in any lifetime? Kind of like the old expression: if a tree fell in the woods and nobody heard it, did it make a noise? Most people might say it did (because in a world of natural science past observance says it does occur). However, we don’t know how it fell, or why. Or if it fell at all. Maybe it was pushed over by a great gust of wind, or pushed by a bear, or by too many raccoons hanging off one side. I would argue all of that is irrelevant. But revisionist historians try to “re-invent” history from known facts, by speculating on ‘irrelevant’ questions by interjecting speculative answers into the timeline based on their own thoughts, opinions or experiences.

Thus they will answer when the tree fell or was pushed and all the noises in the forest at the time. More, they will speculate on how it was first planted there and all the unseemly things that perhaps transpired upon it during its growth.

imageAnd while the story may seem natural, possible and maybe even probable; there are no facts. Except that MAYBE something similar happened to another tree somewhere else that was observed and seems like it COULD have happened to that tree too.

The problem with revisionist history is that often it is contrary to observed factual history. But, unfortunately it makes it into recent history and primary school books anyway. Some times by “adding” unverified facts. More often by just deleting known facts (or by “re-interpreting” them to fit revisionist beliefs).

Now that we have our definition of both history and revisionist history let’s look at the BIG problems behind revisionist history.

The BIG picture gets repainted.

imageThe biggest problem I see is that the BIG picture changes. It’s not like painting in a new tree in the foreground of a previously painted nature scene (although that would be bad enough). It’s more like painting over a nature scene and turning it into a moon or other planetary landscape. By that I mean, if you ‘re-paint’ the life of one person, a domino effect occurred where other people in that lifeline are now cast in new roles and new motives are applied to everything in their surroundings. While speculation is fine, it should never alter the original big picture without absolute concrete facts to back it up. When one picture is totally repainted it changes the rest of the story in that book.

It’s not about you

Generally, this is behind revisionist history. Our current disillusionment, disappointments, bad experiences and attitude and temperament colors our world. We have a tendency to paint the past as we see the present. Even if our view of the present is distorted. It’s how we make sense of the world. Suddenly we see bravery as just selfish opportunity, self-sacrifice as a corruptive need of priorities. It couldn’t actually be bravery or self-sacrifice, that’s not the world we live in. We make the past about us. We make it ALL about us.

Change the past, change the future.

Smarter writers than I have theorized this. Verne. Wells. Asimov. Clarke. Spielberg. In their stories the protagonist tried to alter the past to prevent a horrible future. We don’t have any real world experience to test that theory. But if it were true, then could this corollary be true? If we ‘revision’ history does it explain a horrible present? But there is another principal at work here: those who fail to learn history are doomed to repeat it. If we revise history to the place where it is no longer real, we can’t learn necessary lessons. When we don’t know the difference between truth or conjecture how do we know what mistakes to avoid?

An all clean or an all dirty America

Our need to rationalize our beliefs sometimes make us want to scrub our version, sanitized to our perception of reality. More often than not, we fall into two opposing camps: a completely utopian America or a completely corrupt one. Thus our revisions of history must fit both our narrative and our perception. The real problem is: neither version is real.

Even atheists and agnostics could learn a good lesson from the Bible here. The Bible declares that all have sinned, none are good. Then the Bible ‘proves’ this by showing that every good man in the Bible made horrible mistakes, terrible crimes and failures. Every man. (Jesus was not a good man. He was a good God.) Then these ‘bad’ men, did impossibly good things when they turned to a good God who empowered them.
Now if this is true, then each of us have the power to great harm or great good depending upon how we are empowered. That means American history is filled with great good and great bad. If we scrub away the bad, we are doomed to repeat it, as we won’t learn the lessons those consequences teach us. If we ignore the good we lose the hope that those bright spots inspire. Instead of conjecture we should read, absorb and teach history the way it simply comes down to us: the good, the bad, the ugly. An acquaintance of mine used to say it this way: “Warts and all.” Then, neither us, nor your children or grandchildren will fall prey to ignorance. And, maybe, just maybe can be empowered for good.

If we are going to error, error for tradition

As I said when I first began this essay. People can lie. Maybe some of the history that has come down to us has some truth hidden away from our sight. It is still not right that we speculate on that nor look for other motives. We teach what we KNOW. If we do error, let us error on the side of hope. Not that we accept error, or untruth. But that we trust what has come down to us is what was meant to come down to us, purposefully, justly, maybe even divinely. Until, or unless more clarifying truth comes down to us in the natural course of our own history, let’s error on the side of what is, rather than what might be.

Do unto others

imageYou’re no villain. Yet. I mean my grandfather was full of humor, loved a good practical joke. But he was no clown. He was deputy sheriff and coordinated a rescue in one of Ohio’s deadliest train wrecks. He was a serious, sober hard working man. But of what little was written of him during his lifetime, (some of the best funny moments) some of his great grandchildren thought he must have been a clown. You are no villain (although I’m reasonably sure you and I have made mistakes like the ‘good’ men previously noted in the bible). You might leave a great legacy and pass down noble works. But in only a handful of generations an inspired revisionist could turn all your good intentions on their ear with his explanation of the psychology of your motives. Your name could be passed down in the company of great villains. This is why we should not allow this in our lifetime. Let established fact be our witness in our lifetime, and let us hold that regard for those in our past. Hopefully a future generation will do so as well. Again, you are no villain. Yet.

Fiction or non-fiction

imageSeems like these days, the entertainment consumer doesn’t know a difference. NBC aired the series “The Bible” and continues a new series called “The Bible A.D”. With the Bible translated into more than a thousand versions and languages, you would think that the writers would only have to interject some occasional dialogue to present the greatest story ever told. But anyone who has watched theses shows and has even a simple ‘Sunday school’ understanding of the material has scratched their heads and said “What!!?!?” At any of the episodes. Going way beyond speculation and interjecting whole new narratives, most completely contrary to God’s written word. The defense is always, “it was added for its entertainment value. We were trying to add some drama.” (Or realism, or conflict, or add any other creative word that comes to mind) They will usually end with: “it’s basically the same story we just added to it.” Real Christians know the real story, and wince, or laugh, or turn the tv off. The problem is, the Biblically ignorant think they have been fed real scripture. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to correct professing believers who got their whole doctrine not from the Bible, but from a movie, TV series or TV commercial ad (remember the Orville Reddenbacher popcorn commercials of the woman at Heaven’s gate. “And what did you do in your lifetime to deserve getting into Heaven?” I’ll bet a few readers here don’t know the answer to that question is ‘nothing we have done deserves getting into Heaven’. Hint: it is a gift of God, and that not of ourselves lest any man should boast.) and this is what revisionist history does to our country: feed confusion, muddle motives, speculate ‘facts’, and distort the big picture. Worse. In three generations you can have three genuinely held yet oddly contradicting versions of the same historical ‘facts”, further widening the generation gap. I genuinely believe this is partially responsible for the widening disparities in this country presently in its views on politics, race, gender, and social history. Many, many ‘experts’ presenting widely diverse revisionist histories on the same events. Maybe in this case histories might be the wrong word; ‘opinions’ might be the better word. Opinions these days seem to carry as much weight as fact. As I said, much of our current generation can’t separate fiction from non-fiction nor history from ‘interpretation’ (opinion).

It’s just bad form

If no other argument stands, then let this one. We don’t let bullies run rough shod. We don’t let the loudest shout down the meek. We don’t base equality on race or wealth. If we let anyone, without provable facts, change the noble history of those before us, who cannot stand and defend themselves in the present we have allowed the bad guy his win. This is bad form. As a nation we are better than this.

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No Christian Should Play the Lottery

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With the Powerball Lottery eclipsing $700 million and likely to be over $900 million by this coming Saturday I would like to remind people that No CHRISTIAN should play the lottery. No. Not one dollar. Not 50 cents. And I’d like to give you the top six reasons why:

1. God Abhors Greed

It appears at least twice on his top five list of abominations. God does not have a problem with risk. Often he expects us to take chances. One of Jesus’ own parables of the talent shows the principle of investment and reward. But gambling and the lottery in particular is one of real heinous evil. You see, God expects us to lean on him to meet our needs. When we lean on our own understanding, or skills, or means, or worse: the way of the world. Well, God has a real problem with that. He calls it greed. Are you ‘trusting’ in him, or ‘chancing’ on the world? In another of Jesus’ parables he tells of the wealthy and prosperous man who says to himself, that he has done well, his barns overflow, so tomorrow he will tear down the smaller barns and build bigger ones to hold everything still in the field. Jesus says, God said, fool tonight you will die. That I don’t think was a judgement as much as poor planning and irony. What good does wealth do you if you are dead? If he had consulted God on his decision, God already advised him what to do. In fact at that time even poor struggling farmers were required by God to leave some of their crop in the fields to feed the poor who could not farm. God has a problem with greed with those ‘rich’ who acquire more than they need. Ignoring God’s instruction is like sticking a finger in his eye. Or putting fingers in your own ears. La la la, I’m not listening to you I’m doing things my way. Your way keeps me struggling, leaves me hungry sometimes – or might! I’m not listening la la la la. Worse. Even if you only spend $1.00 in this evil greedy world idea of wealth that is $1.00 you DIDN’T spend doing good. Not that I believe all good Christians actually tithe ten percent, let alone $1.00 a week. But that $1.00 furthered Satan’s end (more on this later).

2. Obedience is better than sacrifice

The priest Samuel told King Saul this as God stripped away the King’s title and gave it to his servant David. I hear people all the time say: “If I won the lottery I’d keep ten percent and give away to God 90 percent like a reverse tithe.” Sometimes I hear this: “I’ve prayed about this, and I think God wants me to do this.” Or maybe a corollary: “if I win, then I will know God really wanted me to win that money.” (It’s not the God you think. More on this later). We rationalize and justify our sins. The ridiculousness of this is easy to see if we substitute sins. “Even though I sell my body for $1,000 a night, I only keep $100. I give $900 away to feed and clothe the poor.” “I’ve prayed about this and I think God wants me to leave my wife for my lover.” “If I get away with it, it isn’t a sin, otherwise God would have got me caught!” Intentions. Good intentions are only good if God thinks they are good. God calls gambling and greed evil. No money gotten sinfully will God accept back as sacrifice or offering.

3. Who is not with me is against me

Somebody once argued with me that Wicans who practiced Good “White” magic were actually doing God’s will. I reminded them that God said, those who did not obey me, serve Satan. There is no middle ground. If you ever hear, or say, “What I am doing doesn’t hurt anybody. . .” This is just another excuse that normally means, anybody HUMAN. The hurt is usually aimed at a Divine Creator who has already instructed not to do this. So let’s not fool ourselves. We serve our own carnal needs, the lust of the world and certainly Satan when we do that which God clearly tells us not to do: God calls it sin.

4. That you might have life and more abundantly

The Christian life is not a series of don’ts. Real Christian’s live lives of abundance. Even without mammon (money, the wealth of the world) they don’t die of starvation, they have peace of mind that lets them sleep, find joy in simple things, and are grateful for everything. Their trials end in victory, their misery is shortened, their hope eternal, and no money in the world can replace these things. God gives more benefits than the lottery can. Leaning on him, he surprises us with gifts we don’t deserve, and we share them generously with family, friends and the world.

5. The wages of sin is death

Sin pays generously. Too bad it’s only for a season. And the thought of a $900 million payout for something you only paid $1.00 for seems like a heavenly dream. Certainly the world paints a beautiful picture of it. The slick commercials show us dream lives elevated out of obscurity with the catch phrase: “you must play to win”. After all, if they say, “Win and risk and possibly lose everything you love!” Won’t sell lottery tickets. In the late fifties a book was published titled, “And the Winner Is. . .” And it told the tragic story of the first fifty winners of the New York lottery, the first million dollar lottery in the country. Yes. Tragic. Without exception the lives of the first fifty winners in this true story were ruined. Everything you can imagine. Spouses, held together by struggling together, split over cash. Many starting great feuds with friends and family over money. Overindulgence in everything from alcohol to drugs to spending to sex destroyed, even killed many. Doesn’t take too much imagination to envision that now. Setting our own “good intentions” aside, we know ourselves. If we had the money to do ‘anything’ – the problem is we would. Often my prayer includes this line, “Thank you Lord for protecting me today from me.” God says, all have sinned. In another place that the heart of men is desperately wicked. No matter what good you can imagine that money would do, what hardships it would cover or what obscurity it might spare you from: the money will destroy everything you hold dear. It was not given to you divinely. God tries to protect you from temptation and evil. If you win, it is a gift from what the bible calls “the god of this world”: Satan.

If you don’t believe this, let me tell you about the last big Powerball winner who is like me a West Virginian, a Christian, father and grandfather.

from Wicepedia:

“Andrew Jackson “Jack” Whittaker, Jr.(born c. 1947 in Jumping Branch, West Virginia) is the winner of a 2002 lottery jackpot. When he won US $314.9 million in the Powerball multi-state lottery it was, at the time, the largest jackpot ever won by a single winning ticket in the history of American lottery. After winning the lottery, he had several brushes with the law, as well as personal tragedies.”

Personal tragedies? After an extramarital sexual “purchase” gone wrong (where he also lost $250,000) in a briefcase stolen out of his truck at the strip club where he intended to buy sex, he lost his long time wife in a divorce. His granddaughter living with him, got hooked on drugs she could now afford, died of an overdose and her body was hidden for months by her boyfriend. Jack lost his business, his money, his reputation and more importantly his Christian testimony.

When he won the Powerball lottery a special issue of his life was published by the WV Lottery in its quarterly magazine. They showed his loving wife and live in granddaughter smiling. Five years later when his life was utterly destroyed he made this statement: “If I had known what winning the lottery would have done to my life and my family, I NEVER would have bought a ticket.” There has been no further comment of Jack’s life since that special issue in the WV Lottery magazine and certainly not his heartfelt, weeping lament. He continues to be, like the first fifty winners of the New York lottery, the best precautionary tale of the Powerball Lottery. (Look him up on the web if you are still unconvinced)

6. Train up a child in the way he should go

If your son or daughter (or grandchild) thinks you feel ‘stuck’ in a life that the lottery will rescue you from, then you have lost your own Christian testimony that God does, and will, meet all your needs. We have to live the life we profess. We have to believe and act upon those beliefs we profess. Again, no Christian should ever participate in the lottery. We prove to the world with our lives that He knows best, and gives us the best, and our gratitude should be passed down to the next generation.

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Cyclops and Marvel Girl: the great love story begins

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imageIs Fox Getting It Right for the Next Movie?

It took 17 years to get here, but think the X-MEN I know and love are about to have a breakout year on the big screen, and may be THE Superheroes of the coming decade. I say this after a sobering moment earlier this week. An acquaintance who knows I am an X-Men fan asked this: “Who’s your favorite X-Man?” And without hesitation I said “Cyclops.” But I was countered with, “Not Wolverine? Why Cyclops? He’s smug, possessive and a dick!”

That is not the Cyclops I know. In fact that is not the Cyclops who exists. What he is referring to is the ‘paper’ performance of James Marsden in the 2000 X-Men film and the 2002 sequel X2. I forget sometimes, the greater public does not know these characters like I do. That, however is about to be rectified.

Marvel, indeed America, owes a great debt to Fox for that 2000 film. It elevated the superhero film and was responsible for the Spider-Man (2001) and Hulk (2003) films that followed. Iron Man (2008) probably wouldn’t have launched without X-Men’s initial success. Even if did not accurately portray my heroes.

But Fox chose a ‘modern’ X-Men team, similar to the team it had broadcast for a few years as an animated series on Saturday Morning television. It was a tremendous Fox TV success. Why fix what isn’t broken.

After the end of those first three films, the X-men backed up to the 1960’s. But instead of using the original team that all fans knew and loved they created a NEW first class. Suddenly Cyclop’s younger brother was his older brother. X-Men villain Banshee was a hero instead. That film led to “Days of Future Past” which ‘re-set’ the end of X3 from years earlier. Now all options are open. That trio of films concludes next Spring with “Age of Apocalypse” that will FINALLY introduce the members of the original X-Men team that fans like me grew up with. Cyclops, Marvel Girl and Angel. Yes, Jean Grey had a superhero name when a mask covered her face.

Back to the Roots

Tye Sheridan is Cyclops
Tye Sheridan is Cyclops
Sophie Turner is Marvel Girl
Sophie Turner is Marvel Girl

To be sure, the origins of Jean Grey, Scott Summers and Warren Worthington the third will be cor-rupted for sure to fit into this twisted cine-matic version of history.

Ben Hardy is Angel
Ben Hardy is Angel

But what I am hoping will emerge Is what I know: the depth and warmth and functionality of this team.

Nicholas Houht is Beast
Nicholas Houht is Beast

In 1963, Marvel Comic created a superhero group of the world’s most unusual teens, children born with powers. Cyclops, Angel, Beast, Iceman and Angel were all trained by Professor X to use their powers for good as a team. I was a 10-year-old kid, they were kids. We grew up together.

While all the boys fell for Jean, her heart was set on the quiet reserved one who emerged as team leader: Cyclops. He initially loved her from afar believing she was out of her league and that he could hurt her with his powers. But love conquers all. And now we have the chance to see this happen before our eyes on screen. Angel too will be turned to the Archangel before his redemption by film’s end.

Pardon Me a Moment While I Flashback

imageIn 1963 I was 10. While looking through the comic book stand one day at the drug store I saw a most unusual comic book. I bought it for the cover price of 12 cents. I always tell it this way “I was a kid, they were kids, we became best of friends.” I picked up that first issue of X-Men and began a lifelong journey with them. In that first issue Jean Grey, the red-headed only female of the group was just joining what had been the all male class of Professor X as Marvel Girl. There was Hank McCoy a very agile youth with big hands and feet who called himself Beast, Bobbie Drake, Iceman, who generated ice all over his body. The wealthy Warren Worthington III had actual wings and could fly like an Angel. You’d think that would be any kid’s favorite. Not so. No, I identified with the quite, brooding, geek, team leader who always questioned his value, his skills, his decisions. Worse, he had to wear special Ruby glasses to cover his eyes otherwise terrible destructive optic beams emitted from his eyes tearing through everything in its path. A special one-piece visor made Scott Summers look like his namesake: Cyclops. Over the course of the next three years we watch him yearn for the attention of Jean, too self-conscious to tell her. She was actively pursued by the other young men, especially Warren, but she wanted something more with Scott. Finally, excruciatingly slowly, a real relationship evolved and would prove indestructible up until her death in issue 100 (11 years later). This would be a new beginning for them, as she returned in issue 101 no longer as Marvel Girl but as Phoenix, a cosmic entity rising from her own ashes. In 1982 in issue 137, Jean, who had become “Dark Phxoenix” before being redeemed, once again sacrificed herself and Scott was there with her at the end. Rising a third time in 1986 this “original” X-Men team would be resurrected as X-Factor to battle Apocalypse who tried to steal their young son Nathan, who was snatched into the future out of the clutches of Apocalypse. He would return from the future as Cable to lead the New Mutants. Today, as a grandfather, I tell the stories and adventures of my friends to my grandchildren. And Scott and Jean? They’re still out there doing what is necessary to keep the world safe.

Iceman who will be too young in this late 70s early 80’s story won’t be part of the team  but since the revisionist writers at Marvel want to reimagine Bobby Drake as ‘gay’ it is alright with me to leave him out of this trio of films

A Setup for the Next Three Films

What this sets up is awesome. The next trio of X-Men films will follow the original team and these characters who they are introducing will carry the films. I get so-excited just thinking about this. The possibilities seem endless. What possibilities? Where can the X-Men franchise go without Wolverine or Storm? Well, let’s look at this:


imageHow about a renewed battle with Magneto, teamed with Quicksiver, Scarlet Witch, Toad and Mastermind.

imageOr let’s drop onto the Savage Land and team with Kazar and Zabu against Mr. Sinister and Sauron.

imageOr take on the Mimic.

imageA battle with Charles Xavier’s step-brother Juggernaut.

imageOr we can do the Death of Professor X and introduce the Changeling to America.

imageAnd we can get a costume change along the way. And this is just a partial list.

imageAnd at the end of those three movies we can introduce the NEW team (2nd Banana Team to us old timers) of Wolverine, Storm, Collossus, Night Crawler among others. Our chance to do this right.

One Final Word on My Favorite X-Man

imageI always insist that my favorite X-Man is Cyclops. If I were truthful that is probably not true. A grandchild recently asked if had ever been embarrassed when I realized that I had grieved for a fictional character. In 1980 (because of editorial mismanagement of a primary character mandated by the comics code of authority) Marvel had to kill an X-man. A justified punishment for a mass murderer. Dark Phoenix, Jean Grey had to die. In issue #137 that year in a total surprise to fandom they killed Jean Grey (previously known as Marvel Girl). I had grown up with this girl. I was ten when I picked up issue #1 of X-Men off the stands. I fell in love with her by proxy because I identified with Scott Summers an outsider, self-alienated, forced into the leadership role, where he was tortured by every unsuccessful decision. Jean loved Scott, but he was a tough nut to crack because he felt he was a danger to himself and her. It was a long torturous childhood I endured falling in love with someone just out of reach. My puberty was better when Scott finally gave in to his feelings. Life was good for many years until this tragedy in 1980. I actually sent a rose in her name to 575 Madison Avenue, NY (Marvel’s corporate headquarters at the time.) I was distraught. I was never embarrassed that I felt the emotional loss of a fictional character. Not then. But I would feel much more than embarrassment later in 1986 they brought her back. (Using an
age old literary cheat – it was someone else who died while the ‘real’ Jean was tucked safely asleep elsewhere). This was done to accommodate a ‘boom’ in the industry and they wanted to reunite the original 1963-1974 team in a new title called X-Factor. To do so they needed a living Jean. I was ANGRY: very, very angry. They cheated my emotions after I buried her six years before. All that grief I endured was re-rendered as nothing more than a joke, a sly wink of the eye. If I had ever wished for her miraculous return I was overwhelmed now by an unabated anger that I had been emotionally duped, violated for a cheap marketing stunt. It took YEARS for this emotion to fade. It was one of the reasons in 1995 that I got out of comic reading/collecting/dealing. It is one of those unwritten rules of serialized fiction. Death of a beloved character is acceptable. Insulting the emotional investment or intelligence of the reader is not.

A T-shirt I made, capturing a moment from X-Factor #6
A T-shirt I made, capturing a moment from X-Factor #6

So truth be told, I guess Scott really isn’t my favorite X-Man. I’ve always loved another.

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Children’s Stories for the Reality TV Generation

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Being a father and then a grandpa has been a wonderful thing. Especially for a story teller like me. I tell all the classics, like the Little Red Hen, the Ugly Duckling, the Five Pennies and more. Among original stories, toddler Lorna loved my ‘Dragon that Wouldn’t Share’ more than my other tales. My kids and then grandkids always loved my version of Three Little Pigs. ‘Not by the hair on my chinny chin chin.’ I do a very good big bad wolf. Of course over the years I kind of changed it up some and especially now for the Reality TV generation .

Others in the past have done the same: James Thurber in his Modern Fables for Our Times, ends the Little Red Riding story with this cautionary line: “Little girls aren’t as easy to fool these days as they used to be!”

So this is the telling of my grandchildren’s favorite version of:

Goldilocks and the Three Bears (or Those Three Little Pigs)

imageOnce upon a time there were three Bears who lived in a little cottage in the middle of the woods. It was Saturday morning and in preparation of the noon kickoff of the West Virginia Mountaineer football game, the big screen TV had recently arrived.

Grandpa Bear might have been a WVU mascot and his portrait hung on the wall.
Grandpa Bear might have been a WVU mascot and his portrait hung on the wall.

Mama bear had prepared popcorn and BBQ wings but a check of the refrigerator showed the dismal supply of beverages and no ice at all.

“I know,” Mama Bear suggested, “I can stop at the Piggly-Wiggly and get some of that dip you like while I pick up pop and Papa Bear can drop me off while he goes after beer.” So all three of them left the house, hopped in their 1983 Chevette and took off through the woods, leaving a house full of snacks unattended just a few hours till game time.

Meantime, the three little Pigs living next door were stewing. “Smell that?” said one. “BBQ wings.” “Yeah she makes the best wings, and we’re not invited.” One jumped on the other. “We got kicked out ’cause you kept bringing up Pitt.” “No. no. It was the mess you made.” “Me?!? Mister sticky hands sitting on the couch.” “You eat wings with your fingers.” One defended. “Maybe that’s why you’re messy; you don’t have fingers!” The fight was getting louder when their brother hushed them. “Come here. Look!”

It's not they were bad neighbors, but the three pigs were bad guests and had worn out their welcome.
It’s not they were bad neighbors, but the three pigs were bad guests and had worn out their welcome.

“What is that? Is that a little girl?” The other smiled “Yes and she looks lost trying to get into the gate at the Bear’s House.” They all smiled. “Maybe we should help.” The little girl was cold and frightened when she saw the Pigs approach her. They lifted the latch on the gate that she could not reach. They pushed her toward the door. “Hello!” Shouted one Piggie as he turned the door knob open. “They’re not here,” clarified another “We saw them drive to OOOOFF.” He gasped with a hard elbow to the rib. “Hello? There is a little lost girl here who is hungry.”

They took her to the table where the first little pig sat down in Papa Bear’s chair and began to eat up a whole bowl of wings. He did reach one to the hungry little girl. She ate it up. The Second little pig sat at Mama Bear’s chair and ate a whole bowl of finger sandwiches and half a bowl of chips. The third little pig sat in Baby Bear’s chair and ate a whole bowl of chicken nuggets and the rest of the chips. The little girl cried because she was still hungry.

The Pigs moved to the living room. The oldest took the whole couch. “See,”one of the younger pigs said, pointing to the BBQ sauce he was getting all over the couch. The second pig filled Mama Bears chair and quickly made it slouch to one side. The third pig climbed into Baby Bears chair and broke it down completely. They flipped on the big screen tv to watch the Mountaineer Gameday pre-game show while eating popcorn. The little girl stopped crying as she scrambled to eat up the popcorn mess the pigs were making on the floor.

After a few minutes the pigs were getting groggy. “Too much time til game time. I’m gonna find a place to sleep.” The oldest said, climbing the stairs to the bedrooms. “Then we should take her too,” said another at the little girl popcorn covered and asleep on the messy floor.

They turned the volume on the TV down as the pigs took the little girl upstairs and laid her in Baby Bears bed. Then they crashed on the beds for a quick nap. They hadn’t been asleep long when they heard the Bears arrive. “Boys, boys,” the oldest Pig shook his brothers. “The Bears are back, quick: out the window.” One asked, “What about her?” “Leave her! She’ll be fine.”

Mama Bear screamed when she saw the mess. “Somebody ate all my wings!” said Papa Bear. “Somebody ate all the food,” echoed Mama Bear. Baby Bear cried when he saw his empty bowl so Mama Bear picked him up and said, “There. There.”

“It’s probably coons.” papa Bear said, “It’s always the coons.” Mama Bear took Baby Bear into the living room to rock him. Her shriek made Papa Bear rush in. “My chair,” she said, “My couch!” said Papa Bear. Baby Bear cried when he saw his broken chair. Mama Bear picked him up and said, “There. There.” But she turned a wicked scowl at Papa Bear. “This all looks mighty familiar.”

“The Pigs.” Papa Bear muttered. But Mama Bear prevailed, “We can’t just accuse them. Let me put Baby Bear to bed and I’ll clean this mess up.” Papa Bear agreed, and turned up the volume because the game was about to start. He had barely found a nearly-BBQ-free spot on the couch when he heard Mama Bear yell and rushed up stairs.

Mama Bear could only point to the tow-headed baby girl sleeping in Baby Bear’s bed. “A human,” he whispered loudly, “Didn’t I tell you it was?” Mama Bear whispered back angrily, “you said the Pigs.” Papa Bear whispered back, “No, you said Pigs, I said it was the coons again.”

But the whispering argument woke the little girl who sat up screeming when she saw three bears. She leaped out of the bed, ran down the stairs, out the still open front door and off into the dark forest.

Mama and Papa Bear continue to argue about who said what, whether they should go help the girl or wait till after the game, and who might have left the front door open when they went for beverages.

And this is the true story of the Three Bears and how Goldilocks gets the blame for something those Three Little Pigs did every time this story is told.

And I would be wise to quit here. It always gets a laugh out of the grandkids and is the perfect ending.

But, as I said others have changed these stories before me, so before we move away from the Three Little Pigs, here is another version I heard when I was six (back in 1959):

Once upon a time there were three little pigs. One day the three little pigs stopped into a Malt Shop. The first little pig ordered a Chocolate Malt. The second little pig ordered a Strawberry Malt. But the third little pig ordered forty-four glasses of cold ice water.

imageBut you shouldn’t think that is anything unusual. After all: somebody has to go wee wee wee all the way home.

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Rick Jones: the Most Important Marvel Hero You’ve Never Heard

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imageRick Jones? Who’s Rick Jones? Before I get to the most important Marvel character you’ve never heard, indulge me a moment, please.

I often play this game. If I could have been someone else who would it be. Like literary figures, or historical ones or fantasy characters. Among the historical I’d like to imagine that I would be an Apostle like Paul. Living miraculously through storms and ship wrecks, venomous snake bites and stonings all the while teaching others great spiritual truths and wisdom. But then, realistically I would probably be Peter. From the moment he saw Jesus he challenged him, “Yeah, yeah. I’m a great fisherman and have been out all night without finding anything, and you say you can take me out and just fill the boat! Well let’s go, let me show you that you’re wrong!” (Gary Stuber paraphrasing). You saw how that worked out. When Jesus told Peter he would have to go into Jerusalem and be taken captive and killed, Peter insisted on stopping him so that Jesus had to say, “Satan get behind me!” to him. At the last supper he bragged, “everyone else might betray you but I won’t!” Liar, liar, pants on fire. Hours later in the garden, Jesus would have to take a sword out of his hand and heal the ear Peter cut off. Even after the resurrection, Peter went back to fishing and Christ would have to shame him, “Peter if you love me, feed my sheep.” Not once, not twice but three times. Yeah, I’d be Peter, brash, impulsive, in need of correction, hard-headed and full of pride. Though I’d want to be Paul.

If I were a superhero I would have to be a Marvel Superhero. No Superman, Batman or other DC hero for me. And even more I would want to be an X-Man. From the day in 1963 when I picked up X-Men #1 off the stands of my local drugstore as a ten year old, I WAS Scott Summers also known as Cyclops. I identified with the quiet loner, unsure of his ability to lead, silently in love with Jean Grey.

But, realistically, I’d probably be Rick Jones. Rick Jones was partner to some of Marvels greatest heroes. Partner. He probably created the Avengers, was the key figure in the Kree-Skrull War, was an Avenger, spent more time in the Negative Zone than either Warlock or Annillius, and managed to kill the Abomination with his bare hands, stopped the Red Hulk and presently is living the life as a normal human with his wife. He has been all over the universe, every Marvel hero knows his name and yet there are not now, nor ever will be any Rick Jones Halloween masks. In fact, it is my allegment that the Marvel Cinematic Universe is CONSPIRING to keep him out of existence.

imageLet me introduce you to Richard Millhouse “Rick” Jones. Rick first appeared in Hulk #1 in 1962. Dr. Robert Bruce Banner while conducting a Gamma-Radiation Bomb experiment in the Southwestern desert, first saw him from the bunker in his field glasses. He told the techs to hold up the countdown and rushed out to the desert where he threw the teen into a hole and took the full brunt of the radiation explosion. It wasn’t held up.

imageIn gratitude, the teenage orphan Rick hung with the doctor watching him transform for the first time into the hulk (who was grey for the first two issues before becoming green).

imageThe young sidekick stuck with him, guiding him out of trouble and exercising limited control.

imageOnce hulk came out of control Rick formed the Teen Brigade, a team of ham-radio operators that tracked the Hulks movements.

imageIn fact, it was Rick’s ham radio alerts that were picked up simultaneously by Iron Man, Thor, Antman and Wasp that united them in a battle against the hulk that led to them becoming the Avengers.

imageA few years later, Rick Jones would become an Avenger, and partner to Captain America, wearing Bucky’s original costume and playing partner throughout the 60’s and 70’s.

imageThat is until a cosmic encounter with Captain Marvel made him cosmically entangled with the Kree entity. While he spent part time as Rick Jones on earth, he alternately exchanged places with Captain Marvel trapped in the Negative Zone. They shared consciousness in the same place, while their bodies were universes apart.

imageThis cosmic exchange put Captain Marvel on earth and Rick Jones into the Negative Zone. They lived this way, alternately switching back and forth for years until ultimately separated.

imageThis however was an event that also briefly gave Rick his own super-powers as well as bringing a decisive end to the long-running Kree-Scrull war.

imageRick became human and normal once again. Until he was thrust into another cosmic war between the Dire Wraiths and Rom the Space Knight. He met his love along this route. After a brief stint as a super-powered hero he once again became human.

He got married and wrote a best seller about his life as a sidekick, partner, Avenger and cosmic entity.

imageLife was good if not boring. In an incident that got him injected with the super-soldier formula he ended up like the monster the Abomination (only blue) aS A-Bomb and ended up killing the out-of-control Abomination. Afterword he brought down the Red Hulk before he was “cured” with a dose that turned him human again.

That could be the subject for the next book if he wants to write it. For now he is living the simple life again as a normal married man. No super-villains, no aliens, no cosmos, no superheroes. Still, no Rick Jones Halloween masks or merchandise either. Worse. No one will be playing him anytime soon in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. There he is the most important person who doesn’t now or will probably never exist. Yep, that would probably be me.

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Happy Birthday Bertha Elizabeth Brown

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imageimageOn November 2nd of this year my mother-in-law Bertha Elizabeth Brown, had she lived, would be turning 86 years old. I miss her. I’m sure my wife misses her even more.

We’ve heard them. The crass jokes about the mother-in-law. I don’t participate. While I didn’t always agree 100% with everything my mother-in-law did, I loved her like I would my own mother. That was easy, she treated me like her son. She is gone now, and at the time, I couldn’t see what appears to me now: the resemblance to her youngest daughter, my wife, Joyce.

Welcome to the family

imageI was just Joyce’s pen pal when I dropped in to meet her that first week in November 1973. I didn’t know it at the time but two days before I met Bertha she turned 44. She was born in the same year as my father. When I met her it was with a smile. Her and her husband liked me from the moment I met them. They liked the idea that I loved their youngest daughter and treated her with respect: we had been pen pals for two years.

imageIn fact that next morning her husband and oldest son would invite me to help them butcher a hog, an event that would involve the whole family and end that second night in a family meal. Since that day, they treated me as if I were already part of the family.

Part of the Blackfoot tribe

If there is any American Indian in my mother-in-law it is remote. But she and my wife do share one trait: going barefoot winter and summer. My mother-in-law taught my wife to use her toes like fingers. Not only can she pick up marbles and coins. She can pinch hard enough with her toes to leave a bruise. They both wore callouses on their feet which seemed always black with usage. Not that they kept dirty feet, but going without shoes, you pick up dirt all day.

Joyce and her sister, her Aunt and three cousins all Sunday dressed. Can you spot Joyce, Bertha's youngest. (Hint: the child on the far right isn't wearing shoes)
Joyce and her sister, her Aunt and three cousins all Sunday dressed. Can you spot Joyce, Bertha’s youngest. (Hint: the child on the far right isn’t wearing shoes)

All of the photos I have of my wife as a child are without shoes, even when other children in the family wore shoes. The only photo I ever saw of my mother-in-law as a teen she was barefoot sitting on the hood of a truck. Since I came into her life when her daughter was a teen I have only seen her wear shoes (and some times these were flip flops) when she had to go to the doctor.

I’ll be alright

Another thing my mother-in-law, Bertha Brown, shared with my wife was her ability to be content in what ever state she found herself. That is not the same as saying she “settled” for whatever she got. She expected much. She just didn’t “fret or regret” if her expectations didn’t always meet her desires. In fact, I always thought she was too casual about some important things. A funny story I always tell is what would happen when she was sick. She went to the doctor frequently. Unless she was really sick. And if the effort to wash her feet and put on shoes seemed too much of an effort for her, she would say: “I’m too sick to go to the doctor.” Ironic. Yet, I have heard this a few times these past few years from her daughter. “I’ll be alright, she’d say. She wasn’t, but she would try to convince you she is.

The kids come first

If there was one area I strongly disagreed with Bertha, this was probably it. Maybe it’s a motherly thing. Maybe it’s a West Virginia thing as we tend to be clannish. In fact, I am a West Virginia resident because Joyce insisted that to marry her I would have to live close to her mom. These two women put the needs, desires and wants of their children over themselves (and their husbands). I might even observe that this goes down to grandchildren as well. Men have their place in the family; and an important one. But children, without the resources that their fathers have, need extra protection, attention and support that force mothers into the role of advocate. This can be hard when father’s expect discipline and mothers expect mercy. It is also hard when on birthdays and holidays, wives will accept no gifts of personal nature they can’t share equally among their children (or outright instantly re-gift to the children). These husbands must learn, giving generously to their children IS giving their wives what they desire most. This is a life-long, multi-generational commitment.

A funny thing happened on the way to eternity

Another thing I see in my wife came from her mother: her wit and her humor. Neither of them completed high school and all of their life labored under the illusion that they aren’t “smart” as others. Nothing could be further from the truth. Noting escapes their observation, and they were brutal with their wit, sometimes expressing itself as sarcasm, sometimes as irony or expressed as puns. This is not capable among morons or dim-wits but requires not only keen observation, mastery of language but creativity in its use. She was a very funny woman who brightened the life of those around her. She passed this on to her youngest daughter.

Graduate of the school of mountain engineering

Apparently Bertha came from a long-line of ‘make-doers’ that didn’t believe in honey-do lists. This too she passed on to her daughter who after her GED, graduated from the Bertha Brown school of mountain engineering. This is also why every West Virginia tool box contains duct tape, crazy glue, coat-hanger wire and ‘shootin’ wire.’ Other resources include cardboard, furring strips, wooden pallets, used nails, tacks and various pieces of plastic (black, clear) or blue tarp. With these resources, porches have been built and then converted to rooms and much, much more. Without the knowledge, consult or help of husbands who were away at work. They don’t just build rooms and furniture: they invent tools and completely new inventions that in a couple of years become indispensable constructs of convenience (sometimes needed by grown children who can’t live without them at their own places). Funny. If we were a family who wrote wills I could see some of these things contested by multiple multi-generation inheritors. I often wondered if this need to build is a ‘nesting’ instinct. And if it was, why the perpetual need to move furniture around? That would seem counter-effective and confusing among ‘nestlings.’ Unless it too is a perpetual need to either create or re-create. This too Joyce got from her mother.

From bread baker to bread winner

Bertha and Husband
Bertha and Husband

Bertha baked bread for every meal. Pan bread. No white sliced bread for this family. Not for family meals anyway. When she was young before marriage and children she had worked. Hard work without a high school education. She told a tale of getting her driver’s license using one of Bill Pearson’s log trucks. (Yes. She even parallel parked it). That was back when she was Bertha Bishop and one of the Bishop girls at Maysel. But she hadn’t worked since early in her marriage when her and her husband moved briefly to Buffalo, New York and worked the farming fields up there in the early 1960’s when the mines were closed. That was brief and they soon relocated back in Clay County, West Virginia where Jim took a job at the Wards coal mines at Elkhurst until they closed. He would spend nearly the next twenty years mining at Valley Camp Coal mines in Kanawha County as Bertha raised five children in their Blue Knob Road, Maysel, West Virginia home. But as her coal miner husband’s health began to decline, she began to take on more chores. In fact, his lung would collapse, and he would have surgery both on his lung and liver. He would never work in the mines again. While waiting on Black Lung Income that woukd take a long time to come, Bertha became breadwinner for the family. She took on a paper route for the state’s largest daily newspaper that would take her on a hundred mile daily round trip every day of the week. It was a family business. Her oldest son helped, my wife helped. Sometimes her other children helped as well.

Wearing a full cast
Wearing a full cast

After an auto accident left her mother with a broken leg, Joyce would take over the route for her for good until another accident several years later would force Joyce to give it up as well. Even as Bertha’s own health began to decline, she continued to head her household, even being full time mother to two of her own grandchildren and one of her great grandchildren. She always put the needs of others over her own.

The greatest thing a friend can do

imageIf there was one quality that my mother-in-law exuded more than any other it was family loyalty. As I said, she taught my wife to put kids first. She would not eat the last bite or take the last portion of anything. Sometimes she would not eat till everyone else at the table left with their fill; just in case she might incidentally eat something someone else needed. She was absolutely loyal to all she loved. She kept everyone’s secrets, good or bad; even from each other. She loved all of her family all of the time. She took the good, the bad, the worse and hid it in her heart; all of it like precious jewels locked away as a treasure. Sometimes I wonder if that was what shortened her life. I think now that we all should have carried more of her burdens and let her carry less of ours. Her disabled husband out lived her. Jesus said the greatest thing a friend could do was to lay down their life for their friends. By that measure we were more than sons, daughters, husband or grandchildren. We were her friends.

I will see her again

She was a saved woman, and thanks in great part to the efforts of my oldest daughter, so was her husband before his death. So I know I will join them someday in Heaven with my own parents. But on this, what would have been Bertha Brown’s 86th birthday, I want to say that she is still alive and well in her youngest daughter, Joyce Stuber, who continues to be more like her mother every day. Happy Birthday Bertha.

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This Thanksgiving Have a Treat You’ve Never Had!

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My grandfather remarried almost a year after his wife passed. Orthello Fout, my mother’s mother was my favorite grandmother. Maybe that is why I was biased against Gladys my new step-grandmother. Maybe because she divided my family. Maybe because I never knew a hypochondriac until then. But I will disparage her no more. She is long gone. But if there was one good thing she left in this life it is this: a Thanksgiving tradition that continues this day in my own family.

I love Thanksgiving. It is my favorite holiday, for many reasons: it’s about God, and gratitude and family. I often think it is the fulfillment of a commandment: remember the sabbath and keep it holy. You DO realize that commandment is about US and not Him. Our assembling before our Heavenly Father is about maintaining family. It was in the days of Moses. It is now. In a way it is reflected by another commandment: honor thy father and mother. We honor our Heavenly Father and it makes it easier to honor our earthly father and mother, then we pass this down to our children. The American tradition known as the Thanksgiving Holiday is the fulfillment of this. It is as much about us and our family as Him.

It is one of our national holidays still uncorrupted by commercialism. It is opportunity for reflection and family. And when you have six children who each have spouses and twenty three grandchildren and five great-grandchikdren, it can be a big event. Couple that with the fact that not only have I been bread-winner in my family but chief cook and bottle-washer.

Thus, for forty-three years I have been largely responsible for Thanksgiving dinner. Daughter-in-law Brandy is taking over that role. I am good. I do great gravy, better turkey and from real pumpkins eleven scratch pumpkin pies. But possibly the best thing I do on Thanksgiving is something I learned from Gladys: Incredible Roast Duck.

imageWhat follows is a non-typical recipe for roast duck. I searched the web for years to find something similar. I found nothing. So I offered one to the manufactures of Sno-floss Sauerkraut. They thanked me and may have published it last year. I offer it here. If you make this you will not be disappointed it is a real delight.

Incredible Thanksgiving Stuffed Duck

Ingredients

1 Duckling (thawed if frozen)
2-3 cups sauerkraut
1 cup sour red wine
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 – 1/2 cup sifted flour for gravy
Water as needed

Instructions

Set frozen duck in refrigerator overnight to thaw, or leave fresh duckling in refrigerator over-night.

Meantime, open 2-cans or one large bag of sauerkraut. These must be drained. But try to catch and reserve in a cup or jar, some of the liquid. Preserve this for the next day. Squeeze as much liquid as possible out of the kraut. Place the kraut in a deep bowl and fluff. Pour in up to a glass full of a dark red sour wine. Use whatever brand or type you may like. Or you can do what I do, since as a Christian I do not drink: show up at your local mart and buy something small and cheap. Locally, my local Rite-Aid Pharmacy sells cheap wine in a sealed bottle equalling a single glass full for $1.00. (This is for flavor not for drinking, cheap is fine). Cover the bowl and let the kraut marinate overnight.

Thaw duck and rinse thoroughly. Rub with salt inside and out as you would a turkey. You will need to place the duck breast up on a wire rack that will allow drippings to fall into the pan where they will not touch the duck. Duck generates a lot of fat while roasting. It is this natural oil and fat that makes a duck ‘waterproof’ living on the water all year.

imageDrain the bulk of the wine out of the kraut but do not squeeze. Reserve some of this liquid (like you did the kraut juice) for later. Put the thawed duck on the rack in the roaster, breast up and open the cavity (where the giblets were) and stuff full with the kraut. As you pack it tight, some of the wine/juice will leach into the bottom of the roaster where the fat will go. That is fine. Use tail, legs and twine if preferred to close cavity or just leave it open. Lightly dust the top of the duck with salt and pepper.

Set oven to 350. Cover roaster with a lid (or with aluminum foil) and place into the oven for at least an hour. Ducks, like turkey are roasted by weight. The bigger they are the longer they roast. After the first hour, check. If using a lid, replace. If using foil, loosen and recover but leave loose at edges.

By this time the smell will be making everyone in the house hungry. Even those who won’t touch wine, or say they hate kraut will ask, “What smells so good?” Use a meat thermometer or, for us old-school cooks, keep checking for doneness. As that time approaches, remove the lid or foil so that the top of the bird can brown. It is fine if some of the exposed kraut darkens or even crisps. Continue to brown duck and check for doneness.

Lift the rack out of the roaster and place on a serving plate. The oil and wine in the bottom of the pan will contain too much fat to use for gravy. So most of this will be poured out and discarded.

imageRemember fat floats to the top so watch as you pour. Leave at least a cup of liquid (fat-wine drippings) to make gravy. Pour this into a gravy pan and put on a burner on your range. Add enough flour to this fatty dripping and stir to brown flour. To this you will add one cup of cold water, a quarter cup of the reserved kraut juice and a quarter cup of the kraut-wine marinade. Stir as it begins to warm. Add water if it becomes too thick. Stir in more water if necessary to thin to a good gravy (do not use milk in this gravy). This becomes a yummy sauce for mashed potatoes or the duck meat as you prefer. Discard remaining kraut juice and marinade.

imageLet me tell you how good this is. You will have leftover turkey (sometimes for days). You will have leftover green beans and yams. You’ll even have left over pie. But. You won’t have leftover duck or sauerkraut, or duck gravy. You better eat what you want at this first sitting. There won’t be any left for later.

This is why, if you make this for Thanksgiving, you WILL make it again at Christmas (and maybe without the turkey this time).

imageBefore I close, many people have asked me about my pumpkin pies. They seem to taste better than everyone else’s following the pretty much standard recipe (i.e. The back of a Libby’s Can). And while I peel and cut down whole pumpkins rather than using canned pumpkin: that is not the difference in taste.

imageHere is my, heretofore secret ingredient: every pie has at least two tablespoons of black strap molasses and one teaspoon of maple syrup mixed into it. Mmmmm! (Not my original idea. Got this out of an 1820 cook book).

May your Thanksgiving Holiday be as blessed as mine. God bless America.

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Warlock: Savior of the Marvel Cinematic Universe

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imageThe Marvel Cinematic Universe can’t survive the onslaught of Thanos without Him.

imageWho’s Him. ‘Him’ was the created cosmic being of the Beehive. Known at first as simply “Him” this orange-colored cosmic being took on all of Marvel’s greatest heroes: the Fantastic Four, Thor and the forces of Asgard, the Hulk, Silver Surfer and Captain Mar-vel.

imageHe is known now in the Marvel Universe as Warlock.

He is a necessary part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and has indeed already been in it. You didn’t recognize him because we only saw him in his cocoon in the hands of the collector.

imageHis ‘birth’ is eminent. As is he’s death. A necessary sacrifice to save the universe from himself. And along the way he will also save the universe from Thanos.

imageHe is the only one in the Marvel Universe capable of killing him with the use of a cosmic gem embedded in his forehead: the soul gem, the last of the infinity stones yet to be revealed in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

imageIn the comics, Him was discovered by the Fantastic Four. That part is out, since the FF are not part of the MCU movie universe. He took on Asgard before re-cocooning again and upon his rebirth was given the soul gem by the High Evolutionary, who might be identified as his ‘father’ who in the MCU might also be Rocket Racoon’s father. In the comics Warlock befriends Pip and Gamora and would eventually be part of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

imageBut not before going into the future to kill his future self.

imageWarlock had to steal his own soul to keep him from becoming the Magus, who would corrupt the universe with his own cultic evil church. Far enough in the future to stop Magus but not before he steals the soul of Thanos.

imageThe comic self-homicide happened in 1976 in issue #11 of Warlock. A year later, this event was ‘recalled’ as a past Warlock steps into the present and kills a present Warlock shortly before he kills Thanos in a big cosmic space battle with the Avengers, Captain Marvel, the FF, Spider-Man and others.

imageSpider-Man releases Warlock from the soul-gem long enough for him to pull Thanos’ soul in with him ending his life.

imageThis awesome event took place at the end of 1977 in two cross-over annuals: Marvel Two-in-One Annual #2 and Avengers Annual #7. You can bet this is the big battle being planned for the next two Avengers movies: Infinity Wars part 1 & 2. Note: Captain Marvel will be introduced between them.

So I am going out on a limb here with a few awesome predictions: Him will be born as part of the Guardian’s of the Galaxy #2 movie. Note: the publicity about this movie says it is a movie about “relationships with our fathers”. Wink, wink. Quill-J’son. Gamora-Thanos, Rocket-High Evolutionary, Him-Beehive/Warlock-High Evolutionary. It works for me.

imageThen, since Thor: Ragnorak is billed as a “cosmic road story” we will re-encounter Warlock (and maybe Beta-Ray-Bill, Gamora, Pip the Troll) and a brawl with Thor then Hulk and perhaps an encounter with the Magus forcing Warlock to go into his future to kill his future self. Thus setting up this event to happen in Infinity War #2. Awesome. This works for me too.

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If You’re a Scientist, You Must Be a Superhero

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Marvel believes intellect and super powers go hand in hand with responsibility and moral compass. Thus today we look at Marvel scientists as superheroes. And heroes as ambassadors of divinity.

Pym
Pym

Of the original five founding members of the Avengers, three were scientists: Tony Stark, Hank Pym and Bruce Banner. Dr. Donald Blake, Thor’s Earthly alter ego was a Physician and Janet Van Dyne was a technician.

imageGreat minds, great powers, great need brought them together to keep Hulk (whose alter ego is also a scientist) under control.

Richards
Richards

The Fantastic Four’s fearless leader, Reed Richards, was a top notch astro-physicist and even the creator of the X-Men, Charles Xavier held multiple degrees and doctorates but preferred a role as professor.

imageStephen Strange was an accomplished neuro-surgeon who after a crippling accident studied Eastern disciplines and archaic occult manuscripts to supplement science with ‘magic’ as Doctor Strange.

Parker
Parker

As a rule the preferred profession of scientist in the Marvel Universe seems to be superhero. Whether amateur (like Peter Parker/Spider-Man) or professional (Dr. Hank McCoy/the X-Men’s Beast). About a third of the superheroes also carry the title ‘Doctor’ whether because of their educational degree or because they practice medicine.

McCoy
McCoy

The hero without a degree is rare (Wolverine comes to mind. Or maybe Ben Grimm/the Thing) and more often than not these educationally-impaired heroes become “grey area heroes” (or are tricked into participating as bad guys by bad guy scientists).

There might be a Marvel moral here: stay in school, get a degree, save the world or dropout and get mind-gamed by bad guys smarter than you.

Marvel has always been an advocate for education. (Some people think this is ironic, being in the comic book business) with heroes being Doctors and Lawyers and such. Lord knows, this generation could certainly use heroes of noble pursuit!

Part of the reason for this is the noble class of writers and artists who brought these creations to life. At first glance comic books would appear to be at odds with intelligence, knowledge, education and especially religion. This is not necessarily so.

imageBack in 1939 (and continuing through the 1960’s) comics were written and drawn primarily by Jews who held absolute belief in American standards of education, hard work, opportunity and especially an Almighty God. The two Cleveland teens Siegel and Shuster who created Superman and single handedly ushered in the era of the superhero comic book in 1938 were Jews. (And the origin of Superman actually parallels their belief that God would send his savior son Messiah one day to Earth).

imageSimon and Kirby (two of Marvel’s best artists in the thirties) were Jews who created Captain America. In fact, this Jack Kirby and Stan Lieber (Lee) in 1961 revived the superhero industry with their creation of the Fantastic Four, Hulk, Ant-Man, Iron Man and a whole host of heroes that now dominates the world.

imageStan and Jewish artist Steve Ditko created Spider-Man. As Jews they all held this belief: God created the world, holds dominion over it, and demands the moral imperative that His good will always triumph over evil. Superheroes are by extension, His arm of righteousness. In the early Marvel Comics all characters acknowledged God and His sovereignty.

imageMany stories involved scenes with praying characters and sometimes divine intervention. Even Thor and Asgard’s residents acknowledged they were gods (with a small “g”) and not the supreme being of the universe.

imageSo why does it appear in this current generation that superheroes are sometimes anti-Christian or at the very least agnostics? God himself saw this happen over and over in early Israel among the Jews. Where, every third or fourth generation from a miraculously saved generation would fall away from Him and He would have to rescue them and the cycle would happen again. Same with our own nation. While our nation was conceived by devout Christians, we have fallen far from those ideals since.

That is what happened at Marvel, too. A generation of artists and writers with no religious background and dubious moral compass began to create ‘anti-heroes’ (bad guys who did good out of their own need) Wolverine comes immediately to mind.


imageOr bad guys turned heroes like Punisher, Magneto, Venom, Dr. Doom, Electra (even Thanos briefly became a savior shortly after his resurrection from his death at the hands of Warlock, Captain Marvel and the Avengers). Or real heroes began to experience radical turns of morality entering gray areas or even briefly doing evil (I won’t forgive Marvel for letting one of their writers turning Hank Pym into an abuser and murderer just to feed a storyline in the late seventies early eighties). These anti-heroes now reign over the universe.

While Stan’s X-Men where born in the early sixties with “God-given powers” a move was made later to define them as evolved humans to bring them into current and popular scientific theories of evolution.

imageMany Marvel heroes were caught praying in the early sixties and (depending on the writer still do). Daredevil comes to mind. He is devoutly Catholic (and Netflix has kept this as a part of the series).

imageKitty Pride is a Jewish superhero. As America goes, so does its heroes. For God to get a grip on Marvel’s heroes again, he must first get a grip on our nation and the current agnostic generation.

Even education has fallen by the wayside in an effort to make superheroes more “down to earth” they are sometimes little schooled or uneducated, drop outs and even reformed delinquent criminals. They get addicted to drugs, suffer PTSD, tempted by the lusts of this world and in general fall way short of the ideals of traditional superheroes. Yeah, more like sports heroes and reality stars today. Sad state of the world we live in.

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