I met Jerry Robinson at HeroesCon in Charlotte a couple of years ago. He was a very polite person as was his wife. They both probably thought I was a total idiot as I geeked and goofed out to the max. It was like watching a movie sliding out of the projector and start snaking all over the floor and what was worse, I could no more stop it than a runaway locomotive.
My demeanor was that of a 14 year old who had just met LeBron James.
I accidentally set my bag on some important papers and his wife gave me a scowl and asked me to remove the bag. I apologized and tried to tell what a million other fans had probably told him over the years. I wanted to convey my personal feelings about his work and what it meant to me but began to realize as I spoke I was just repeating what he had heard before.
His layouts, the polish to his art, the characters he helped flesh out; I floundered and flustered and tried to be more than another random fan, someone he might remember.
I failed.
Mr. Robinson was as cordial as could be but I knew he thought I was a goof who couldn't string together two sentences without help.
After he signed my Golden Age Joker Statue I said goodbye to them both and walked out of his life.
About two hours later, my con visit was starting to wind down, I sat leaned up against a wall waiting for the rest of my party to join me. I looked up and saw Mrs. Robinson coming out of the restroom alone.
No one seemed to recognize her and she was getting a bit jostled as she made her way back to the table. In a second, my Southern Gentleman came out and without a word, I took her arm and helped her back to her husband.
As she seated herself, she thanked me and Mr. Robinson gave me a smile and a nod.
That was worth more to me than the autograph, the earlier meeting or the entire trip.
I now thank you, Jerry Robinson with the words I didn't have before.
Rest in Peace.
My demeanor was that of a 14 year old who had just met LeBron James.
I accidentally set my bag on some important papers and his wife gave me a scowl and asked me to remove the bag. I apologized and tried to tell what a million other fans had probably told him over the years. I wanted to convey my personal feelings about his work and what it meant to me but began to realize as I spoke I was just repeating what he had heard before.His layouts, the polish to his art, the characters he helped flesh out; I floundered and flustered and tried to be more than another random fan, someone he might remember.
I failed.
Mr. Robinson was as cordial as could be but I knew he thought I was a goof who couldn't string together two sentences without help.
After he signed my Golden Age Joker Statue I said goodbye to them both and walked out of his life.
About two hours later, my con visit was starting to wind down, I sat leaned up against a wall waiting for the rest of my party to join me. I looked up and saw Mrs. Robinson coming out of the restroom alone.
No one seemed to recognize her and she was getting a bit jostled as she made her way back to the table. In a second, my Southern Gentleman came out and without a word, I took her arm and helped her back to her husband.
As she seated herself, she thanked me and Mr. Robinson gave me a smile and a nod.
That was worth more to me than the autograph, the earlier meeting or the entire trip.
I now thank you, Jerry Robinson with the words I didn't have before.
Rest in Peace.
