The Final Word - 2025

 

Vienna by night

Dear Friends,

After postponing my trip for three long years, I finally spent last Christmas in Vienna—a world-class city, with sleek, modern infrastructure rubbing shoulders with stunning historical monuments. I attended concerts, toured museums, visited the outdoor Christmas markets, and did a lot of walking around, despite the frigid temperatures. I also took a day trip to nearby Bratislava.

Vienna by day

Little did I know, as I rang in the new year at Savoy, Vienna’s oldest gay bar, what 2025 had in store for me. You’d better sit down—this is going to be a long one. 

I returned home to a relentless cycle of traveling, auditing, and report writing at TÜV Rheinland, slogging through an especially cold, long winter. And while I miraculously dodged all the flight delays and cancellations, I still enjoyed my share of excitement: like the time in Aurora when the front door of the hotel froze shut and we had to exit through the kitchen; or the time when I cracked open my car window to defog the windshield, and it froze open; or the time when I came home to find my basement flooded, because the line to the forced air system had frozen and burst.

In April and May I faced a particularly daunting audit schedule, with no room to breathe between audits; plus weekend appearances at comic book conventions in Boston, West Hollywood, and Manhattan. This all proved to be too much. I woke up on March 5 in a hotel room somewhere in Connecticut with a sharp pain in my upper back, tingling down my right arm, and a numb right hand. But I had three audits in a row to conduct, all in Connecticut, plus a long-planned weekend appearance at Manhattan’s Rainbow Book Fair and two Broadway shows (“Just In Time” and “Boop!”). So I took pain pills and persevered, hoping the pain would subside and/or I would regain the use of my right hand, which is my note-taking hand. Alas, my condition did not improve, so I scheduled an appointment with Dr. Shih, my primary care doctor, for March 13, the first day I would be home. 

The set of "Just In Time" starring Jonathan Groff

"Boop!"—the Betty Boop musical

That’s when things really started to go south.

Dr. Shih prescribed Tramadol, an opioid, for pain relief. I was supposed to take it every six hours for seven days. Not only did I experience no pain relief; the drug made me so physically ill that I could neither eat nor sleep for four days—not to mention the hallucinations. It’s a bad, bad drug. By Friday night I wanted to burn the house down, with me in it.

I discontinued use and went to Urgent Care on Saturday morning. They took the standard approach of prescribing a steroid pack and an anti-inflammatory, for five days, which did offer me some relief. They also recommended I check out Access Sports Medicine, where an Orthopedic might help me get to the root cause of my pain. I booked the first available appointment at Access on May 22. 

The doctor from Access took new X-rays and diagnosed the root cause as bone spurs on the bottom two vertebrae of my neck, where the nerves pass to my right arm and hand. She ordered an MRI to see if I was a candidate for direct steroid injections to the affected areas, and physical therapy.

Then my story took a turn for the worse.

On the morning of May 29, still weak and trying to rebuild my food intake, I blacked out and struck my head on the edge of the bathroom tub. I don’t remember this happening, but I do remember the immediate aftermath. I pulled myself up from the floor, looked in the mirror, and saw a deep, bloody gash in my forehead and a busted-up nose. I washed my face, tried to stanch the bleeding, tore through my medicine closet looking for bandages, bandaged myself up, and drove myself back to Urgent Care.

They took one look at me and sent me to the Emergency Room. They got me right in, did an EKG, drew blood, did a CAT scan, and stitched me up—13 stitches in all, mostly in my forehead.

Unable to work, I applied for six weeks of short-term disability. TÜV Rheinland uses a third party called UNUM to manage benefits. I followed their process to the letter and received a preliminary approval in short order. All they needed, they said, was the Physician Form to be completed by my primary care doctor, the incompetent Dr. Shih who put me on Tramadol, which led to my blackout and my second round of injuries. 

The form stated in black-and-white to not just write “totally disabled,” for this would cause them to reject it and seek additional information. Guess what he wrote? I read it after the fact, after it was swiftly rejected. Instead, UNUM wanted a diagnosis and a treatment plan. Since I was now primarily under the care of Access Sports Medicine, I rewrote the form and took it to Dr. Shih for his review and signature. For this, I needed to make an appointment! He skimmed it, grumbled that he disagreed with the diagnosis (not that he offered another), added a handwritten note that I could not lift more than 20 pounds, and signed it. This version was submitted on a Friday and approved the following Monday.

Then I received my first benefit statement. I was entitled to 60% of my base salary, up to $1000 per week, but my statement totaled $23, without explanation. Long story short: UNUM assumed, without telling me, that I was eligible for my state’s benefit program (FMLA), so they deducted that amount, essentially zeroing out the benefit. So I had to start all over with FMLA, including the submission of another Physician Form, which I again wrote on Dr. Shih’s behalf, and made an appointment for him to review and sign. I should note that for each of these five-minute appointments, he charged Medicare $389. 

As you can imagine, while I was laid up, I had a lot of time to think. Among the things I concluded was that when the time was right, I wanted to sell my house, which is far too large and requires a staff rivaling Downton Abbey to maintain; escape the New England winters; downsize to a condo back in my beloved Murrieta, California; and stop working full-time.

I returned to work on July 2 and eased back into my routine. TÜV mercifully allowed me to work from home while I finished my last round of therapy and other physicians’ appointments. Then on July 15, in the middle of my first on-site audit since returning to work, I received a text from Chelsea, a name I didn’t recognize, claiming she had found a condo that ticked all my boxes. At first I thought it was a scam, but Chelsea turned out to be a legitimate realtor from Team Forss, a realty company I had briefly engaged with last July. 

The photos on Zillow and the videos Chelsea made for me convinced me to make an offer. But I still wanted to see the place for myself while I still had the chance to pull out. The inspection was scheduled for Saturday, July 26, which coincided with San Diego Comic-Con, which I wasn’t planning to attend this year. I changed my mind at the last minute and scheduled appearances at the Prism Comics booth on Saturday evening and Sunday morning, so that I would have a business reason to fly to San Diego while leaving Saturday morning free to attend the inspection. I also booked a hotel room in Murrieta since San Diego was sold out months ago. 

On Saturday morning, as I stood outside the condo in question waiting for Chelsea and Steve, the inspector, to arrive, I made up my mind to pull out. The view from the front door was of a gulch that was littered with trash. The unit itself stood in the middle of a row of three units, with their patios in front. The other two patios were filled with other people’s crap that I had no interest in seeing every day. Needless to say, those views were not captured in the photos or videos that were previously shared with me. I held my tongue through the inspection, then announced that I was not moving forward.

Chelsea shifted into overdrive to try find me a condo that met my standards while I was still in town. The only time I had left on this trip was Sunday afternoon, after my morning signing, since I was flying back to Boston on Sunday night. So Chelsea booked several more units for me to look at on Sunday afternoon. This meant driving down to San Diego in the morning, driving back up after my signing, and driving back down in the evening to catch my flight. If you’re keeping count, that makes six trips in total, at an hour a pop. Good thing I prepaid the gas on the rental car.

After looking at four units that I rejected off the bat, we finally, on the last try, found one that I fell in love with. Perfect size, perfect location, perfectly quiet, recently renovated. All it needed was new wall-to-wall carpet on the second floor. I made an offer and it was accepted; the only counter was that the seller wanted to close faster, which was fine with me. I flew back home and attended the inspection virtually, which produced no showstoppers. On August 15 I became the proud owner of a new condo in Murrieta, California.

This all happened so quickly that I was not ready to move. But I knew that I wanted to get out before the next New England winter hit. So I met with my Haverhill realtor and drew up a timeline. We photographed the house on September 8, listed it on September 10, and held an open house on September 13. Three days later, we had a firm offer. The buyer wanted to close on October 13; I wanted November 4. We compromised on October 31, which gave me no room for error.

I informed TÜV that my last day as a full-timer would be October 24, and started to plan my move. 

PODS in my front yard

I chose PODS because I knew others had had success with them for long-distance moves, and because I did not want a repeat of 2021, when I hired a one-stop shop that only knew how to do local moves. I set October 31 as my move date, and worked backwards from there. It quickly became apparent that if I was going to do all my own packing (which I strongly prefer), I would need more time than I had allotted. So I took vacation the week of October 6, to get a head start on the boxing and labeling. I hired loaders and unloaders through Hire A Helper, a PODS partner company, so I wouldn’t have to do the heavy lifting or worry about whether I was loading the PODS optimally. And I hired another PODS affiliate, Acertus, to transport my car back to Murrieta.

Meanwhile, the buyer made the sale contingent upon closing any open permits. It took some digging at City Hall to find out that there were in fact two open permits, for work done on the front porch and the back deck, both of which predated my purchase of the house. Everyone—the contractor, the seller, and my realtor—dropped the ball on that one! 

After several false starts and with time running out, I finally got a City Hall inspector to show up, who quickly signed off on the front porch and just as quickly failed the deck; the stairs were too narrow and the railing was too low. And the contractor who opened the permit was retired. And he refused to come out of retirement because he said he had no contract with the current owner (me). In the end, because the buyer wanted to close, I agreed to give back enough money for him to hire his own contractor.

To my dismay I also soon learned that Haverhill requires a permit for placing PODS containers on your own property! So it was back to City Hall to apply for a permit, which necessitated a “plot plan” from their Engineering department, which was little more than two boxes drawn on a map of my property, for which they charged me $50, and which required an inspector to come out and take another $25 to verify that the containers were in fact there—which they weren’t, because even though I made clear on the application that the containers were due to arrive on October 27, they sent an inspector on the 24th, who then had to come back on the 28th.

As I was packing, I became concerned that not all the contents of a four-story house would fit into two 16-foot PODS containers, much less into a 1400 square foot condo. So I became brutal about downsizing: selling what I could on Facebook Marketplace, giving away the rest, and ordering a dumpster to toss out things that could neither be sold nor donated, such as Kurt’s bedroom, my unsold book inventory, and my decrepit drafting table. Then I put all the Christmas boxes into an “overflow room,” which could be redirected to my neighbor’s garage in the event that the loaders ran out of room in the containers. 

Then, as if on queue, both my printer and my desktop computer died. I took them to the local recycling center, which at least saved me the trouble of packing and moving them. 

Hire A Helper, which booked my loaders on the front end and my unloaders on the back end, chose a company called Classic American Movers to load the containers on October 30. My original plan was to load one of them myself with all the small boxes, and use the movers only for the heavy furniture. But as my concern grew that not everything would fit, I decided to let the movers load both containers, since they are supposed to be experts at utilizing the space wisely. 

These clowns were not experts. After wasting a lot of time and loading the first container poorly, they informed me that they had another job scheduled and they would probably not finish before they needed to leave. Queue the rain. I jumped on the phone to Hire A Helper (several times before I got a live person) and even phoned the company that moved me from my Billerica apartment to my Haverhill house in 2021, trying to find same-day help to finish the job because the containers were due to be picked up—and the buyers were scheduled to close—the next morning!

I managed to hire a second crew from Full House Family Movers who were grateful for the work and did an excellent job. They even managed to correct some of the first crew’s mistakes and load everything I still owned into the containers, including all the Christmas boxes. 

Of course, since the containers were in my front yard and it was now raining hard, the crew couldn’t help but track leaves and mud into the house. Just as they were finishing up at around 1:30pm, my realtor texted to remind me that the buyers had their final walkthrough at 4pm! Suddenly I needed to vacuum the rugs and wipe down all the floors until they were not only free of leaves and muck, but until they sparkled! And make a graceful exit by 3:30pm because I was also scheduled to meet my former work team in Lowell (20 miles away) for one last happy hour, followed by a stage adaptation of “Misery” at Merrimack Repertory Theatre.

The final farewell with my Cristek work team

I was a half hour late and the gang was all there, but a good time was had by all, and by showtime my realtor texted to say that the walkthrough went swimmingly. I returned home, slept on pillows (the beds were already dismantled and packed), and awoke on October 31 to watch the PODS containers and my car get whisked away; to await word that the buyers closed on schedule; and to say my final goodbye to my beautiful albatross of a house.

Since I never believed all this would happen on schedule, I booked my flight to San Diego for November 4. Since it all did happen on schedule, I checked into a local hotel that afternoon and finally got some well-earned rest. This also enabled my neighbors to throw me one last farewell party on November 1. Once again, a good time was had by all.

I packed two suitcases for San Diego: my regular travel bag and a second, oversized bag stuffed with the pillows I slept on during my final night in the house. The flight was uneventful (it was just days before the air traffic controllers started calling out en masse). I rented a car to drive from San Diego to Murrieta, an hour north. Since I didn’t know exactly when my car would be delivered, and I need to drive back to San Diego the day after Thanksgiving to fly to New York for a weekend of Broadway shows (“Chess” and “Romy & Michele: The Musical”), I decided to hold onto my rental car and just return it then. 

The "Chess" set

"Romy & Michele: The Musical"

I moved into my new, empty condo, unpacked my pillows, then drove over to Ralphs to stock up on food that I could prepare without pots and pans—basically microwave entrees, salads, and cereal. The next morning, I bought a Box of Joe and a box of donuts from Dunkin. I was ready to face the future. 

My first order of business was to set up my Spectrum internet. My second was to buy a new printer. My third was to re-establish my bank accounts with Wells Fargo, which I had closed when I moved to Massachusetts four years ago.

That afternoon, I was surprised to learn that my car was already in California and would be delivered to me that evening. I had loaded all my plants in the car since they were not allowed in the PODS containers. I was happy to see that they arrived no worse for the wear. I had covered them in a blanket, so once I washed it, I had a blanket to go with my pillows by that evening. 

With my car in my possession, my next order of business was to transfer my registration from Massachusetts to California, and to reinstate my California driver’s license. This is supposed to be done within 15 days of arriving. I was able to make an appointment for the following Monday, November 10; unfortunately, the closest location taking appointments was Arvin, five hours north of Murrieta. So I drove up on Sunday afternoon and stayed overnight, so that I wouldn’t be late for my 9am appointment. In the interim I studied the hell out of the California Drivers Handbook, because I also needed to pass a 40-question test. The whole (inefficient) process took about 2 hours, but I emerged with both my California license and registration. 

Due to space limitations in the Murrieta condominium complex, I staggered the PODS container deliveries so that the first container would be delivered on November 13, unloaded on November 14, and swapped out for the second one on November 15; which would then be unloaded on November 16 and collected on November 17. I worked with the Homeowners Association and its Board President, who lives just a few doors down, to stake out an area where the containers could be safely and conveniently placed.  

On the morning that the first container was scheduled to be delivered, the endless California sunshine gave way to torrential rains and flash floods that did not let up until the moment the second container was empty. At least the crew from Speedy Movers lived up to their name, and the break in between the two deliveries enabled me to proceed methodically through the process of unboxing and getting settled. 

Finally, I needed to buy a new desktop computer to replace the one that died, and retrieve my files from the Cloud, in order to cobble together the letter you are now reading. With an assist from the Apple Genius Bar, I was able to accomplish this on December 9 and start cobbling the next morning.

I am very happy I made this move, despite all the effort it took, and I can now look forward to the next chapter of my life.

My two previous registrars, TÜV Rheinland and DNV, have signed on as the first two clients of my new consulting company, which I have named IntroSpection. I plan to conduct no more than two audits a month, giving me time for the things I’ve always said I would do when I finally had the time: read, write, and travel for pleasure. 

Only time will tell if I succeed.

Home (at last) for the holidays

The Final Word - 2024

Dear Friends, 

Last year, after a peaceful Christmas Day with my housemate Kurt, I took the train down to Manhattan, where I attended “Harmony,” the decades-in-the-making original musical by Barry Manilow and Bruce Sussman that tells the true story of the Comedian Harmonists, a wildly successful group of German comedic singers who were eradicated by the Nazis because three of the six members were Jewish. I would like to say that I loved it, but I barely even liked it. I saw an earlier incarnation a decade ago in Los Angeles, which was flawed but sincere. The version that finally made it to Broadway felt over-thought, overwrought, and second-guessed to death. It played to half-empty houses for most of its run and closed shortly after I saw it. Truly disappointing. 

However, the next day, my trip was redeemed when I attended the long-running off-Broadway revival of “Little Shop of Horrors,” then starring Corbin Bleu and Constance Wu. Corbin Bleu, of High School Musical fame, is a prodigiously talented quintuple threat who can sing, dance, act, do physical comedy, and look stunning while doing it. Constance Wu was also present. The production lived up to the hype, and I was thrilled to meet Mr. Bleu after the show and have an actual conversation with him. He was also the only actor who came out after the show to meet his fans. What a class act. 

Autographed by Corbin Bleu

Unfortunately, I returned home to chaos. Kurt was slipping into dementia at an accelerating rate. It had gotten to the point where he couldn’t dress himself, tell time, read a calendar, or drive. I texted him throughout my two-day trip, but without me being present to structure his day, he went to work at 9pm (instead of 6am) and then had a meltdown because I wasn’t there to help him get ready. 

I reached out to Kurt’s sister Marta to let her know that I couldn’t be his unpaid caregiver forever. She agreed to get engaged. I helped Kurt get Mass Health and food stamps, and scheduled a doctor’s appointment for him that Marta attended. That meeting with Dr. Kidd consisted primarily of a memory test, which Kurt failed with flying colors. Armed with the result, Dr. Kidd ordered an MRI, which was denied four times by Kurt’s provider before it finally took place on June 12, with predictable results—it was inconclusive. Meanwhile, Marta scheduled Kurt for a series of appointments with a neurologist, who despite overwhelming evidence, concluded that what Kurt needed was a psychiatrist to deal with his anxiety and depression. Marta fired him. 

During this fraught period, I did manage to escape to Manhattan in March to see “The Notebook” (great book, horrid music), “White Rose” (a compelling new off-Broadway musical about Munich’s White Rose Society of university students who resisted the Nazis), and a revival of “An Enemy of the People” with Jeremy Strong and Michael Imperioli (great first act, off the rails in the second act). Marta stayed with Kurt and took him to get his taxes done, so I didn’t have to worry about the house. 

In April I went to Manhattan again to hawk my graphic novels at the Rainbow Book Fair, where I did surprisingly well, and took advantage of my time there to attend the new “Great Gatsby” musical (good performances, some memorable music, outstanding scenic design, disappointing book) and the off-Broadway comedy “Oh Mary!”, in which a drunken Mary Lincoln tells her side of the story—funniest thing I’ve seen in years. Go see it if you can!

June was Pride Month. I don’t tend to go to many Pride events, but Ogunquit ME, which has become my new favorite weekend escape, hosted its 4th annual celebration on June 1, so I took Kurt and made a day of it. They raised a Pride flag in the town square followed by a short parade to the local park where a vendor fair was held. Afterwards I took Kurt to lunch at a restaurant overlooking the ocean, then we went to see the musical “Waitress” at the Ogunquit Playhouse. It was a perfect day. 

The one other Pride-related thing I did in June was to appear at Q-Con, a one-day LGBT comic book convention in West Hollywood CA. I appeared last year and didn’t sell very well, so I was on the fence about attending again, especially since by then Kurt needed constant supervision. At the last minute I decided to go, and to hire a caregiver to check in on him daily. I ended up selling much better this year, but leaving Kurt alone for even part of the day turned to disaster, as he tried to turn on the stove and— Well, there are various versions of what transpired next, but at least the neighbors came to his rescue and also texted me to keep me informed. 

The only good news that came out of this disaster is that it brought me closer to my neighbors, whom I had barely met after living in Haverhill for three years. So amongst ourselves we decided that I should do an open house and 65th birthday party when I returned from West Hollywood. It came together quickly and was well attended by friends, neighbors, and co-workers—and held on the day after Kurt left for Maine with his family, so he was not in the way. 

Kurt’s family takes an annual trip to Maine, where they have a beach house. He missed the last two years because he had no paid vacation time while working at Market Basket, and also because he stopped driving. So this year, I talked his family into scheduling their trip to coincide with my trip to San Diego Comic-Con, and to pick him up at the house. This worked out well, especially since they saw firsthand what I dealt with every day, and wasted no time in preparing to move him back home. 

This year’s San Diego Comic-Con was a horror show—constant yelling, trampling, and misdirection from the ill-trained, ill-mannered staff. And I didn’t sell well either. They really don’t care about comics anymore, or creators, or attendees—it’s all about the movie stars these days. This may well be my last year. There are better conventions, including larger ones like New York, where comics and creators are still valued. 

Kurt finally moved out on August 23. With nothing else to do, he spent weeks stacking and restacking his possessions, never putting anything into the boxes I prepared for him, and asking me every day if this was the day his sister was coming. I didn’t want to upset him by packing his boxes for him, so I just let him rearrange things, and made sure to be at work when his family arrived. They packed up everything that was laid out in front of them, and removed Kurt, his stuff, and his car from the premises before I returned home from work. 

Of course they missed a lot of things, since Kurt was no longer aware of what belonged to him. So I spent the weekend locating and packing up the rest of his stuff, and restoring order to the house—five large boxes in total, which I placed in the garage, awaiting delivery instructions that never came. (I ended up donating the packaged goods to a food pantry and the rest to Savers.) When I finished, the house felt eerily empty and quiet, for the first time ever. 

In July I joined the ranks of Medicare and started making plans for the rest of my life. Since I no longer needed to work fulltime to get medical benefits, I was more than ready to leave Cristek. I pursued a contract AS9100 auditor position with PRI (a registrar like DNV), with the goal of working about two weeks a month and spending the rest of my time reading, writing, drawing, traveling—all the things I promised myself I would do when I finally had the time. I passed all of PRI’s tests and was ready to join them in September. Then fate intervened. 

Out of the blue, a recruiter for a different registrar called TUV contacted me just before Labor Day and asked me if I would consider interviewing for a full-time auditing position with them. I briefly recounted how DNV had burned out its full-timers by making them audit all week, then travel, write reports, manage findings, and prepare for the next audit on weekends, all while our laundry was spinning. The recruiter assured me that TUV was not that way—that they did not want to burn out their auditors and watch them leave! He persuaded me to talk to their hiring manager, which I agreed to do on the Friday before Labor Day. 

Meanwhile, PRI, which still believed I would be joining them as soon as I resolved my Kurt situation and departed Cristek, informed me that I probably wouldn’t get two audits a month in the beginning, since auditors tend to hold onto their clients as long as they can. So, here I was sitting in a big empty house, with no rental income and no desire to find another tenant. Without at least two audits a month, I would need to consider moving, which I was not yet ready to do. 

I spoke with TUV’s hiring manager on the Friday before Labor Day and she convinced me that they value work-life balance. They’re promising no more than 13 audit days in a 4-week month, and occasional weeks working at home as a technical reviewer for other auditors’ reports. We had a lively conversation, and I hung up feeling like we could come to terms. On Tuesday, the day after Labor Day, the recruiter phoned to inform me that TUV was prepared to make an offer. I have never received an offer so quickly—DNV took 5 months!—so understandably I had some questions. We hashed it out over the next two days, and by Thursday I signed TUV’s offer letter, which will pay me considerably more than Cristek ever did. 

So in the span of one week, I accepted an offer from a company that wasn’t even on my radar, enabling me to stay in my house but offering me the flexibility to live wherever I want, should I decide to move, since I will either be traveling to an audit site or working from home. 

I asked to start on October 14, since I needed some time to detox from Cristek. They agreed, then came back and asked if I could possibly finish the onboarding paperwork in time to start on October 7, since the 14th was a holiday for them—Columbus Day, which I’ve never had off before. So I agreed. 

A sure sign that I travel too much

However, I was never really onboarded on October 7, because my manager was evacuating her home in Florida due to Hurricane Milton, and I was pawned off on substitute teachers who mostly told me to “play around” in their systems instead of teaching me how to use them. 

The next day I boarded a plane to Denver to be a team member on an audit in Berthoud CO. The client hated the lead auditor, but pulled me aside to tell me they liked my approach and wanted me back next year—but not him. 

The next week I was the “acting lead” on an audit in Grand Rapids and was witnessed—remotely—by the actual lead, who hated me. Fortunately I don’t think he ever completed the required evaluation form, and the hiring manager waved her magic wand and declared me a lead auditor—which was preordained because I was already scheduled to lead my next several audits. 

It turns out there’s a reason TUV acted so quickly when they offered me a fulltime job. I soon discovered that they are woefully behind on their aerospace audits and have been pissing off their clients left and right by failing to schedule them. 

Since then I’ve been leading audits with less than a week to prepare, with some of them due way back in April. Besides Berthoud and Grand Rapids, I’ve now been to Rockford IL, Dayton OH, Rochester NY, Sumas WA (near Vancouver), and Marion IA (near Cedar Rapids). One of my new clients called me a breath of fresh air; another called mine the most memorable audit he’s ever had. I’m beginning to suspect that my predecessors set the bar awfully low. 

In October I squeezed in an appearance at New York Comic Con, and caught “Stereophonic,” 2024’s Tony-winning Best Play, with my old friend Giulia Hamacher. 

Thanksgiving came and went. My neighbor Sharon invited me to Thanksgiving dinner at her house. I brought wine. I had a delightful time with her extended family and friends, and was invited back the next afternoon for leftovers. 

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving I headed down to Manhattan for two more musicals, “Death Becomes Her” (hilarious) and “The Outsiders” (uninspired), before flying off to Seattle for my next audit. 

I will wind down the year with a local audit in Westfield MA before I leave for Vienna, where I will spend Christmas, followed by Bratislava, where I will ring in the New Year. While I’m gone, I will contemplate when in God’s name I’m ever going to retire—and start doing all the things I promised myself I would do when I finally had the time.

Look what bloomed while I was away.

Happy Holidays from my house to yours!

The Final Word - 2023

Dear Friends,

This has been a year of loss and rebirth. I lost my beloved mother in January at the age of 96, and my cats Nora and Neely in May and November, respectively. At least they all enjoyed long, joyful lives. And, having relocated from Southern California to the Boston area two years ago, I was able to drive to Pennsylvania for my mother’s funeral. 

RIP Gladys Krell, age 96

Meanwhile, this year I re-established my publishing business in my adoptive home of Haverhill MA, and finally published “Arena Takes Manhattan,” a spinoff of my main “Jayson” series starring Jayson’s roommate Arena Stage – my tenth graphic novel and my first in ten years. 

With the help of the Haverhill Museum of Printing, where I am a member, I located a printer in Lowell to produce the book. With publication slated for April 1, I listed the book for pre-sale on Amazon, and pre-orders were so robust that I tripled the press run for the first edition. The book arrived on March 17 and I have been filling orders ever since. 

At last, Arena Takes Manhattan

I launched my “Arena tour” in support of the new book on April 1 at Lehigh Valley Comic Con, close to where I grew up dreaming of someday working in comics. I even headlined a solo panel called “From Lehighton to Manhattan… and Back,” which my brother Tom and his girlfriend Rebecca were gracious enough to attend. That day the local paper, the Times News of Lehighton, profiled me on page 1 of their Spotlight section. Despite the usual errors and omissions, it was a positive take on my career in comics (thus far). 

On April 22-23, I tabled at Wicked Comic Con Boston, with special guest Joy Jartman, sister of Andrea Jartman, who inspired the Arena Stage character. It was Joy’s first convention, and she quickly got into the spirit. The convention was well run and sales were brisk, especially on Saturday.

Having a “Wicked” time with Joy Jartman

When it was announced that “New York, New York,” the 1977 movie starring Robert DeNiro and Liza Minnelli and featuring original music by Kander & Ebb, was being turned into a Broadway musical, I was immediately interested. When it was announced that the arresting Colton Ryan was cast in the DeNiro role, I immediately bought my seat for the Friday, May 11 performance and planned to spend the weekend in Manhattan. 

I booked 2nd row center, which is awfully close, which turned out to be perfect. In the final scene, Jimmy and Francine finally stop fighting long enough to agree that she will front his jazz trio as their girl singer. We know the big number is coming, but what we don’t expect is for the entire orchestra to hydraulically rise out of the pit and integrate with the band on stage – with Francine and Jimmy performing directly above me! I sat THIS CLOSE to Colton Ryan. What a finale!

On Saturday, my old friend Giulia Hamacher invited me to a matinee of “White Girls In Danger,” the new off-Broadway show by last year’s Tony winner for “A Strange Loop,” which Giulia and I saw last October. The premise is a fictional soap opera set in the town of Allwhite, where the black characters are relegated to the background (or “blackground,” as they call it) and never get their own stories. With a serial killer loose and threatening to kill all the cool (white) girls in town, a young black girl yearning to break free from the blackground and claim the spotlight needs to first get the serial killer’s attention. 

As I posted my adventures on Facebook, my former co-worker Jeff Maddocks took notice. He moved to Chicago decades ago, but he was coincidentally in Manhattan with his wife Steph for their anniversary. He reached out via Messenger to see if we could meet. All that I had left was Sunday morning, so I made reservations for brunch – which proved difficult since it was Mother’s Day. We ended up at Peachy Keen, a ’70s-themed restaurant that played ’70s TV shows and music wall to wall. It was a fun time and great to catch up with Jeff & Steph. 

I soon learned that my application to the New Hope Vendor Fair on Saturday, May 20 was accepted. The weather forecast looked threatening, but at the last minute the forecast turned from rain to clouds, so I decided to chance it. In fact it ended up raining hard most of the day, but that didn’t deter the crowds from showing up or from buying. I sold more books in 5 hours than I usually sell in 2 days! 

Sadly, while I was in New Hope, my older cat Nora became ill. Kurt informed me that she had grown listless and was not eating or drinking. I rushed home right after the fair, took one look at her and rushed her to the emergency room. They ran a blood test, gave her an infusion, and gave me medicines to administer at home. She seemed to perk up for a day or two, but the end was obviously near. Nora died peacefully on May 24. RIP Nora Scott-Krell, age 18.

Taking spring cleaning to heart, but having no time to actually do it, in May I hired a cleaning company called 46 Cleaners to give my house its first real cleaning since I moved in two years ago. When the van pulled up, it read “46 Cleaning & Construction.” Diogenes and his wife Josie did a great job on the cleaning. More importantly, when I bought the house, the two main floors were move-in ready, but the basement and the attic were unfinished. So I had them start with the most urgent matter, which was replacing the window in the unfinished basement with a door, for the safety and convenience of being able to exit to the back yard without having to open the garage door. 

Basement wall – before

Basement wall – after

After succeeding with the door, I offered them the rest of the basement to finish – which turned out beautifully. As they were finishing up that project, I showed them the attic. On one side, the previous owners had started but abandoned a project to turn it into a livable space. The other side offered bare studs and insulation. It was this side that I decided to turn into a new, larger bedroom for my tenant Kurt, while on the semi-finished side I would add shelves for storage, with flooring throughout. 

Attic wall – before

Attic wall – after

My next scheduled appearance was at San Diego Comic-Con on July 19-23. I arrived right on time; unfortunately my bag did not. I did without my clothing and my promotional materials for two full days, before my bag, which went missing in Newark, finally resurfaced. This is why I try to avoid connecting flights, and why in the future I will avoid Newark at all cost. 

That said, the ongoing writers’ and actors’ strikes meant that many of San Diego’s big panels were cancelled, or they soldiered on without their main attractions, which was actually a boon for those of us who create and sell comics. 120,000 attendees had already bought their badges and made the trek to San Diego, so with nothing else to do, many of them wandered over to our booths and rediscovered comics! Since Prism Comics did all the advance work, my books were already on the premises. All I had to do was show up, even if my clothes were a bit musty, and launch into my pitch. As a result, I sold well and won a few new fans. And by Day 3 I even got to wear the new shirt I had packed for the occasion. 

When I returned home without incident, I started preparing for Fan Expo Boston. They had offered me a panel on LGBT creators, but had not offered me any booth space. I refused to moderate the panel without the booth. At the 11th hour the relented and offered me a free table. I sold well on Saturday, far less so on Sunday. The panel, which included Jarrett Melendez (Chef’s Kiss) and Steve Orlando (Wonder Woman et al.), was well attended and well received, which made the weekend worthwhile.

Next I appeared at the Haverhill Museum of Printing to speak about what I learned while self-publishing a graphic novel. I offered lots of stories and more than a few cautionary tales! 

Lecturing at the Haverhill Museum of Printing

On September 21, my hero Barry Manilow broke Elvis Presley’s record for the most performances at the International Theater at the Westgate (formerly the Las Vegas Hilton) – 637 and counting. Of course I went to cheer him on. And of course I got a photo with him afterwards!

Hanging with Mr. Manilow

I always attend New York Comic Con, but this year I applied for the first time for a table in Artist Alley. By the time I learned that I didn’t make the cut, it was too late to buy a 4-day pass to the Con; so I settled for Friday and Sunday, affording me plenty of time for Broadway shows. I saw “Merrily We Roll Along” and “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child.” I found the former to be overrated and the latter to be so tedious that I walked out at intermission. 

But at the Con, after making the rounds in Artist Alley and the main floor, I visited the Pride Lounge sponsored by GeeksOUT, a promoter of LGBT creators. No sooner had I sat down to enjoy a creators’ panel when the person in charge recognized me and offered me space at the table in the back of the lounge. I hadn’t brought a lot of books with me, since I was floating and didn’t expect to set up shop, but I put out what I had and I sold it all. 

Next thing I knew, it was Halloween. I thought I was better prepared this year, having prepped 56 bags each containing a comic book, a set of Pokemon cards, and some candy; plus a plastic pumpkin filled with candy to handle any overflow. Last year, you may recall, I prepared 35 bags and ran out after 40 minutes. This year, I ran out after all of 45 minutes! And like last year, I turned out the lights and drew the curtains for remainder of the two-hour event. Afterwards, I went on eBay and found a set of 75 gently used Archie Digests for a reasonable price, which I purchased for use next year. Hopefully that will be enough! After all, I am now known throughout the neighborhood as the guy who hands out comic books. 

In early November, my remaining cat Neely became blind and disoriented, stopped eating and wouldn’t stop drinking water. Turns out she was suffering from Stage 4 kidney disease—she was at Stage 2 in May, and for years before—and she passed on November 18. RIP Neely Scott-Krell, age 17. 

This year I wanted Thanksgiving to be as stress-free as possible, so I ordered a complete, pre-cooked dinner from Market Basket, picked it up Wednesday night, left it in the garage overnight, and reheated it on Thursday afternoon. Then Kurt and I watched the Barbie movie and started season 2 of The White Lotus. This approach proved so efficient that I even found time to put up the Christmas lights that day. 

Over the Christmas break, I will heading back to Broadway, to see Barry Manilow’s long-gestating original musical “Harmony,” which has finally transferred to the Great White Way; and “Little Shop of Horrors,” which may or may not still be starring Corbin Bleu by the time I get there. As always, I’m sure Manhattan will prove to be magical. 

Happy Holidays from my house to yours!

Sadly, as this year’s Final Word was going to press, I learned that Sue Bielenberg, my talented artistic collaborator on “Arena Takes Manhattan,” passed away suddenly on December 5. The losses have certainly been piling up this year. So please, this holiday season and always, remember to choose kindness.

Love, Jeff