Richard E. Geis, 1927-2013

cover to SFR #39; I think the artist is Alicia Austin

Over on Trufen, Andrew Porter reported Richard E. Geis' had died last month, on February 4th.  Geis was an important figure in science fiction fanzine fandom, especially in the 1960's and 1970's.  He was also an important figure in my own life, even if we never met.

I cut my fannish eyeteeth on Dick Geis' artificial vagina.  (Now there's a sentence you won't see written very often!)

Geis' SCIENCE FICTION REVIEW (aka, at times, as THE ALIEN CRITIC), in 1968, was the first "real" fanzine I'd seen.  (I'd seen a few samples of comics fanzines prior, mostly ad-based.)  It was an eye-opener.  Not just for the discussion and *ahem* vigorous dialogues about science fiction, but because he was the first person I'd encountered in my entire life who was willing to write openly and un-self-censored about sexual matters like masturbation (including with the aforementioned artificial vagina) and writing porn for a living.

(No, literally, at age 16, he was the first person I'd seen do that, and he did it in a public forum.  Get back on my lawn, kids, and I'll tell you how desperate teenagers were in the 1950's and 60's for ANY kind of sexual facts or information, and how unavailable it was.  But you won't believe me.)

That openness has been a big influence on my own life and writings.  I'm nowhere near as open and uninhibited at the typewriter as Geis was, but I'm open enough to occasionally make people uncomfortable.  Overall, I think that's a good thing.

I'll quote part of  Porter's Trufen post regarding Geis.:

"Richard E. Geis was one of the finest fan writers and fanzine
publishers SF fandom ever produced. His own writings, primarily in
his schizophrenic "Alter-Ego" editorial role in his numerous
fanzines, which were notoriously wont to change their names in mid-
publication, are famous in the field. They gained him numerous Hugo
Award nominations and many wins. His fanzines, which became focal
point fanzines attracting numerous contributions from the finest
writers, professional and fannish, and artists, also gained him
numerous Hugo nominations and wins.

"Geis was a Fan Writer Hugo nominee in 1970 and 1971, and every year
from 1973 to 1986, winning Best Fan Writer Hugos in 1982 and 1983.
His fanzines were Hugo nominees from 1968 to 1971, and 1974 to 1983.
His "Science Fiction Review" won the Fanzine Hugo in 1969, 1970, 1977
and 1979. "The Alien Critic" won the Fanzine Hugo in 1974 (tied with
Andrew Porter's "Algol"), and in 1975. Altogether, he received 30
nominations for the Hugo award, winning eight times."

The Wikipedia entry for Richard Geis is here.

Christmas and Mortality

Our son Chris has been working essentially two jobs up in Las Vegas, both his long-time dead-end job and his "externship" for the Phamaceutical Technician career he's trying to get into. (And doing well enough at that it's been suggested he should go for a full Pharmacist degree.  Yeah, maybe, if a big bundle of cash drops out of the sky and lands at his feet someday.  He's really stretching himself just to afford the PT courses.)

But that meant his schedule was supertight, and he could only make a quick half-day trip down here for Christmas, and only yesterday on the 21st.  It's been three or four years since he'd seen Grandma Shirley, my mother, but my brother Denny was gracious enough to drive Mom on short notice all the way from where's she's been living with his family near the eastern edge of Mesa.  (Or, as we call it way the heck over here in Glendale, "The Far Side of the Universe", about a 50-mile trip.)

My mother's 85, with a variety of health issues.  None critical right now, but... she's 85.  So it's probably a good thing to take advantage of any opportunity for her and Chris to see each other.  There's no reason to think this will be her last Christmas, but... she's 85.

This is one of the drawbacks of geting older:  You have to start taking into consideration the question, "If I don't do this now, will I have an opportunity to do it later?"

The accident that broke my arm certainly contributed to this morbid line of thought.  I've always known, intellectually, that I'll die someday.  But being hurt so badly, and so suddenly and unexpectedly, has really impressed on me, in a deep visceral sense, that I won't be here someday.  The thought struck me while Chris and Mom were here that someday there'll be a Christmas that will be my last Christmas.  (Though I certainly hope my timing will be better than my Dad's, who actually died on Christmas Day, 1980.)

This is not an easy concept to grasp, when it's one you've been trying to avoid all your life.  I'm not sure where this mental processing will end up, or whether going thru the process is the point.  We'll see.

This lovely graphic apparently comes from
a Moldavian animation company,
possibly as part of a commercial. 
(What were they advertising?) 
That's all I've been able to find out about it,
tho' I'd love to see the full animation someday.