Connections With Heroes: Parts One - Three

Hero one: Gary Larson. 

I have seen very few photos of the brilliant cartoonist. This was the first I had come across and low and behold, sitting to his right on his drawing table is a coffee mug. I own a coffee mug exactly like it. It has sperm whales on it. I have it in my study. 

I no longer have a drawing table. I had three before the last move to Oz and into the 'trailer park' sized home. It was deemed that there was not room for a drawing table. So, I have no drawing table, (nor do I draw anymore. Kind of sad, but I don't).

   

Hero two: Jane Goodall.

Perfection

I am using internet photos in this post because I have no pictures of Jane Goodall of my own. She is the subject of this part of my “connections with heroes” writing.

First, I will state that Jane Goodall is an international treasure. I am literally in awe of her. She is one of the most admirable, valuable, brilliant, beautiful humans the planet has ever produced. And as I have written before, she was also my first celebrity crush.

I was barely beginning adolescence when I originally saw her in the pages of National Geographic. I did not understand the depth, nor meanings of the feelings that face, and hair, and yes those khaki shorts stirred in me. I suppose I imprinted on that look. To this day, a young Jane Goodall remains the centre, the essence of what I find physically beautiful. Other young men of my generation had their Marilyn Monroes, or Sophia Lorens, or Raquel Welshs. I had Jane. 

And! She lived in the jungle with chimpanzees! Possibly part of my Gonzo Birder core had its embryonic origins with Jane in the jungle. Here in my senior years, as I drove Troopi through the rainforests, rivers and outback of Australia, I suppose I felt some sort of connection to that lithe, blonde, adventurous beauty in those images from my youth. Some impressions do last a lifetime.

Here I am driving Troopi across the King Edward River in the Kimberley.

Hero Three: Joni Mitchell

I decided to include a short part three here, because it fits. Joni Mitchell is not only a deity in the world of music, she also had that look that I had ‘imprinted’ on in my early adolescence. My connection with her comes from her concert in Austin Texas on 27 January 1976. During the encore, Bob Dylan had joined her on stage and sang with her. Afterwards, I ended up back stage where I briefly met them both.

The night I met them both

To Joni I said, “That was beautiful” referring to her whole performance that night. I remember how she smiled and said, “Thank you” in a very genuine way. Then she leaned in and offered me her cheek to kiss. Yes, my lips have touched that perfect cheek just under that perfect cheekbone. 

Cheekbone perfection

After kissing Joni Mitchell, I found myself next to Bob Dylan and asked, “Mr. Dylan, may I shake your hand?" To which he replied, “Call me Bob” and extended his hand. I did call him Bob and I shook it. So I guess I could make Bob Dylan the fourth Hero in this writing although there is much more that I would like to write about him and I will. Later. 

Stay weird my friends ❤️