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Let's listen to Pearl Jam.

When I was in high school, I had one of the best teachers ever. Not just because he was a fantastic teacher but because he was also a fantastic person. I've almost certainly talked about him before, but it bears repeating. He shared stories from his life during our classes. Told us about the mistakes he had made. Like going to college with his then-girlfriend instead of his friends. They had broken up, leaving him at a college away from all his close friends. "The lesson," he told us, "is that sometimes, yeah, bad things happen. But these can end up helping you in the long run." He paused, then, and let it sink it for a moment. "I guess sometimes shitty situations turn out well. I ended up focusing on my work and doing well." Then he paused again. "Alright, you know what, just forget it. But remember that good things can happen, okay?"

"When you finish your assignment, turn it in on the schtool."

Just like he said would happen, the only things I remember from that class are the things he told us about life. Like balance. Finding balance. Arguably the most important thing he talked to us about and the thing I still struggle with. Work, play. Alone time, social time. Friends. Everything needs balancing. The second most important thing was something he said to me, specifically. Every day during class I would draw comics of historical events or whatever he was lecturing about at the time. He would read through them and approve. Toward the end of the year he called me to his desk.

"Gabe," he said. "A lot of teachers would tell you to stop drawing comics in class, but I am not a lot of teachers. You are good at this--at drawing comics--and you are only going to get better. I know college is a long way off, but I want you to promise me something. Seriously, I want you to promise me that you will keep drawing in college. Join the school newspaper and draw comics. You have to. You'd be great at it."

And he looked me in the eyes and nodded. "Okay, Mr. Ryals." I said.

A few weeks later he announced he was leaving the school, and soon after that he was gone. Impossible to contact ever again. Years later, I found him on Facebook. It was something he rarely checked or updated. It made sense considering he'd gotten married and had a kid and started a restaurant in a different city. It was something he said he'd always wanted to do. And there he was, doing as he said.

During a creative lull, I brainstormed ideas for a new comic. I'd gotten tired with other things. Random this and that. Medical jokes. It was time for something simple. And I thought about Mr. Ryals and the things he'd told us. His friend Sam the baker. His friend Ben the box man. The fake example name he used all the time, Frances Francis.

So I made Ben the Box Boy.

It had nothing to do with his friends or stories, but it was my way of saying "thank you, Mr. Ryals." After a couple years, he found it online. And liked it. What a cathartic experience.

Comments

Spen said…
Dude that's mindblowing!! Cathartic experience indeed........... Mr. Ryals. By the way, that was high school. And almost 7 years ago, wow...
April 12, 2011 at 2:48 PM
Carolynn said…
You'd have to be completely illiterate not to like Ben the Box Boy.

That still sounds like an awesome experience though, dude.
October 26, 2011 at 9:08 AM
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