“Digression 18: Farewell, Stan Lee” Hosted by Nathan Marchand
It’s been over a month since comic book legend Stanley Lieber (aka Stan Lee) died. I recorded this video the week of his death, but I was unable to edit and post it until now. It’s appropriate since today would’ve been his 96th birthday. I share my memories of his many stories and characters, my experience of meeting him, and why he inspires me as a writer.
What are your memories of Stan? Leave them in the comments below.
My grandmother, Ruth Sitton, with her dog, Pebbles.
On Monday, October 31, 2016, my grandmother, Ruth Sitton, died of natural causes at the age of 94. She was my last living grandparent.
A large portion of my childhood was spent at Grandma’s house in Arcola, Indiana, growing up. She and Grandpa Max were my first babysitters. Mom and Dad took me and my siblings there almost every Sunday after church. Whenever a new baby arrived in our family, we went to their house. If any of us wanted a little getaway, we went to their house. Every Halloween we went to Arcola for trick-or-treating. When Christmas Day rolled around, the family always gathered at their house for gifts, food, and fun. When I started college, Grandma, now a widow, gracious let me live in her house and commute to school for the first three semesters I was there.
Ruth, like a typical grandmother, always spoiled her grandkids, especially us, it seemed. We were never allowed to be hungry at her house. She always made sure we ate our meals and was generous with snacks throughout the day (she had an endless supply of Skittles). It was at her house I discovered the joys of video games, cable TV, and the internet, much of which I didn’t have at home. I have fond memories of her driving me into video stores in Fort Wayne, which I would explore looking for new video games and movies to experience.
But it wasn’t just media that made visiting Grandma (and Grandpa) great. She lived by a hill, which was great for sledding. She and Grandpa took me on a special trip to the Oshkosh air show. We went on bike rides throughout Arcola (although that was more of a Grandpa Max thing). She usually had some eccentric animal—whether it was her cats Fluff or Theodore or her Yorkshire Terrier, Pebbles—to keep us entertained.
Grandma Ruth has always been there. Even when she moved to the nursing homes, I had the comfort of knowing she was around. Now, for the first time in my life, I have no grandparents. I’d hoped that, whether in person or not, she’d be around to see me get married. I guess that was always a fool’s hope.
Thank you, Grandma Ruth, for all your generosity, kindness, and hospitality! I miss you so very much, but I know you’re happy in the house you dreamt Grandpa Max built for the two of you in heaven.
I come from a military family. I wanted to write something today in tribute not only to my own family members who have served in the armed forces, but to all the men and women who put on a uniform everyday to defend their nation. With all the busyness that has been accosting me, I barely had time to write this. I wanted to include photos. Even if I did, it still wouldn’t seem like enough. So, I will do the best I can with the time I have.
My grandfathers both fought in WWII. Don Marchand was a motorcycle messenger for the Army in the European theatre. He ran over a landmine and survived. While he wasn’t physically disabled, per se, he lived with that injury for the rest of his life. Max Sitton served in the Navy and later the Air Force. He was a practical joker and loved pranking his comrades. It was him who inspired my mother, Tina (Sitton) Marchand, to enlist in the Air National Guard. It was there she met my father, Joseph Marchand, who was an MP (military police). Mom retired from the Air Guard shortly after my first brother, Josiah, was born, but Dad stayed in for ten more years. He made several tours overseas in Europe, and his unit was nearly activated to serve in the first Gulf War. He retired in the mid-’90s after achieving the rank of senior master sergeant.
In all honesty, I’ve considered enlisting several times over the years because of the stories I’ve heard from my parents. Despite that, I’ve always had an interest in the military. That’s probably why my first novel, Pandora’s Box, is military science fiction. (Hey, I had to sneak a little shameless self-promotion in here, hehe).
These are just a few stories. I had other relatives who served in WWII. They all deserve a tribute. So do all the soldiers who’ve served out great nation. You’ve heard all the clichés (“Freedom isn’t free,” etc.), but they still express a good sentiment. Like all holidays, they are reminders of what she should do all year long. Whenever you see a soldier, tell him, “Thank you.” Even if you disagree with the wars we’re involved in, these men and women fought, bled, and even died so you could have the freedom to disagree. You still owe them for gratitude.
I find myself wanting to express that gratitude even more. I hope I–and all of us–remember to do that everyday.
So today when you’re enjoying barbecues and a day off work, remember the soldiers who didn’t get a day off to spend with their families so you could be free.
Happy Memorial Day.
A Man from Another Time Exploring Another Universe
