Deadites, D-Day, and Departures part 3

When I started this series of posts. It was intended to be just one post.

As I began to share about my All Saints Day (part 1), it quickly became evident that the follow up on Caroll Spinney was going to be its own post (part 2 naturally).  The day I posted part 2, there was another notable departure.

Stan Lee left the mortal coil on November 12, 2018.

Since then, there has already been plenty shared about his contributions to the field of comic books. Personally, my exposure to his impact was felt second hand. My introduction to Stan Lee came not through the books he wrote, rather it came through "Stan's Soapbox".

Stan's Soapbox was a column written by Lee that ran in every book published by Marvel. So no matter which book you picked up that month, you were guaranteed to get a dose of Mr. Lee. The Soapbox was part advertisement, part life advice, and part behind the curtain peek at the inner workings of the Marvel office. But it was so much more than that.

The Soapbox was the front door into the world of Marvel Comics. The Soapbox was the way in. It was where the inside jokes and announcements of upcoming projects were found. It was the place where the reader went from passive observer to an active participant. The amazing thing is that this was all done with plain text. 

There were the more interactive ways to participate in Marvel. There were letter pages and the fan clubs, and of course the famous "No Prize" (just an empty envelope sent to a reader who sent in an explanation for an apparent mistake). And while these things created actual interaction and sometimes meaningful dialogue, I never delved that deeply. (I do remember sending a letter to the editors of Captain America once, but I wasn't picked for publication.)

Despite my lack of formal interaction, I always felt the comics with the Marvel logo were more than just stories. They became more than stories tucked away in plastic bags and cardboard boxes. Through Stan's Soapbox, I came to see myself as a part of something bigger than just me.

Through those Soapboxes, Stan reached through the page and spoke directly to the reader. Addressing the reader directly, allowing us access to the process of creation, and treating the stories as seriously as we did were the tools found up Stan's sleeve that allowed him to turn a simple column into the gateway for a larger world. A larger world not just of tights and capes, but a world where everyone was welcomed.

The greatest trick, and really his greatest gift, was Stan's ability to create a sense of identity in those columns. We were not mere "readers", no in Stan's world we were all "True Believers". Stan didn't simply sign his name at the end of column, rather he signed off with the now oft-repeated, "Excelsior!". 

Stan created a world where all you had to do to belong was to show up.

My introduction to Stan was not through the comics he created, rather it was through his continual support and praise of the works that followed him. For many who have never picked up a comic the same is true. Stan is known to many through his cameo appearances on film and television. In what might be described as the third wave of his career, Stan continued to find ways to support and praise the stories told with the characters that he helped create.

Like Carroll Spinney, Stan lived long enough to see his characters passed onto other creators. He lived long enough to see them recognized by fans born long after the characters were created.

Yet, Stan was much more than the co-creator of much of Marvel Comics. He was more than an ambassador for the MCU. Anyone who has seen Stan in an interview knows that his enthusiasm extended far beyond comics. Stan was an ambassador of kindness, sacrifice, and optimism.

So all that is left to say is simply, Godspeed and of course “Excelsior!”

Jason Lee and Stan Lee (no relation) in Stan's greatest cameo

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away
-Jesse Letourneau

Deadties, D-Day and Departures (Part Two) aka Follow that Bird

Last time we spoke of Deadites, D-Day, and duality (more or less). Today, I want to carry on that theme of duality as we look at two departures from the world of Sesame Street. The first is Big Bird. Big Bird reflects unbridled curiosity, unfettered optimism, and unquestioned loyalty. The second departure is Oscar the Grouch. Reveling in the discomfort of others and interested only in being left alone, Oscar may just be the anti-thesis of Big Bird. The man who has performed Big Bird for fifty years is retiring. And at the same time the performer who brought Oscar the Grouch to life these last fifty years is also retiring.

As you may know (or even may have learned if you watched the video above), the performer of Big Bird and of Oscar is one and the same. Caroll Spinney is finally stepping down from his dual role on the Street. Thankfully Matt Vogel will carry on as Big Bird and Eric Jacobson will perform Oscar.

I am truly excited by this news. Not because I wish to see Caroll leave behind these characters, but because the characters he played are being handed down thoughtfully and intentionally. Too often in the world of a Muppet fan the news of recasting is due to the death of a performer or a messy firing. Even in cases where the characters were being shared before the loss of the original performer, death still seems to mark the passing of generations within the world of Muppets. But not this time. This time we can celebrate the work that has been done with the celebrant joining in the festivities.

Serving God along side all of you, 

Just from further away

Jesse Letourneau

Deadites, D-Day, and Departures (Part One) aka A Romans 12:15 Kinda Day

Those of you who read my facebook wall, may have seen the occasional “a Romans 12:15 kinda day” posts. The idea behind those comes from the Bible verse Romans 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” This verse has been a part of how I approach life and ministry for a number of years now.

At first, it was simply an admonishment to be present with those who are near. If they are grieving, it is right that we grieve with them. If they are celebrating, it is right that we celebrate with them. Then I saw those ancient words as permission to both rejoice and weep. If someone has sorrow, I can enter their sorrow. If someone else has joy, I can enter their joy and not belittle or betray the sorrow of the other. Both are possible to hold.

This is where the idea of a Romans 12:15 kinda day came from. It is a day where social media, ministry, or life itself brings me moments of great sorrow and of great joy. I am always privileged to enter into those spaces and grateful for the opportunity to reflect on the complexity of our time here. The Romans 12:15 days that get posted are the ones that are easy to define. A day with preschool chapel and a funeral, a day of floods and fires contrasted with weddings and graduations, a day of funeral and a high school play. Funerals tend to remind me of Romans 12:15.

Because funerals are more than just a day of simple grieving. They add to how I understand what it means to rejoice and to weep with those who do the same. In a funeral service there is joy, there is hope. It is not just a day of the past, but one of the future as well. And while certainly each funeral has these pieces in differing percentages, I recently attended a funeral that masterfully carried the balance of these things.

The funeral was for a man I never had the privilege of meeting. His name is Donald Rothwell. He was on the beaches of Normandy. That isn’t the most interesting thing about him, but I needed to mention it to tie it into the title. Don was a man by all accounts who brought joy with him into every space he encountered. He taught, he volunteered, he loved well, he was a tea teetotaler, and the north star to an amazing family. He served in the church where I now serve for nearly twice as long as I have been alive. When we remember a long life, lived well, it is easier to see lost as bitter sweet; as a time of weeping and rejoicing; as a Romans 12:15 kinda day.

That evening I found myself in high school auditorium anticipating a musical based on the Evil Dead films. If you are not familiar with the Evil Dead franchise the short version is this: five high school students go to a remote cabin in the woods where cultist, trees, and zombies (aka the Evil Dead aka Deadites (again see title) attack. Then of course hilarity ensues. At least in the musical version.

That evening was absolutely a celebration of the hard work of the cast and crew as well as celebration of unbridled silliness. It was also a celebration of the macabre. Laughing in the face of death is another way to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep. In the play no one really dies, they come back as the aforementioned Evil Dead. While the majority of the cast end the play covered in blood, it is stage blood. The audience is in on the joke. We know this all done tongue in cheek. Death has lost both its power and its sting.

That day I attended two services, heard two stories. One was a formal service with the story of Don Rothwell told by those whose lives he impacted. The other was an informal service dressed as a high school play where the story included a singing moose. A mixture of tears and laughter, grief and joy, celebration and remembrance. Certainly in different percentages, but there none the less.

A Romans 12:15 kinda day.

--Serving God alongside all of you, just from further away

--Jesse Letourneau

Me, "Linda", her mom, and a family friend