I suppose Art and I have shared a few adventures. (More than our share, perhaps.) For some obscure reason, when he ran his "Live Outworlds" at the Cincinnati Corflu, Bill Bowers had Art and I follow each other on the podium. God knows why he wanted to juxtapose the Sage Elder Ghod of Fandom with a callow whippersnapper such as myself, but Art and I have been running into each other ever since. (And I've worked my way up to being all of half his age....)
The following year, when I ran into him at Bubonicon, he mentioned he'd be looking for someplace to stop off on the way to Nolacon. My companion just happened to have a trailer available for the week in Dog Canyon, New Mexico...just feed the cats and the goat... By the time he left, Art had renamed the cats and I don't know what all about the goat...
When I hosted my Corflu, Art drove up in the same car with Jack Speer and Roy Tackett...a hearkening back to the epic road trips of our fannish genesis, it seemed to my goshwow state of mind at the time. This was the occasion of the first Corflu softball game, which Art marked on the pitcher's mound by taking a line drive right to his kneecap. He walked it off like a trooper and finished the game.
Ah that I should be that sturdy. I write this with a recently reattached retina&emdash;the same week my father goes into the hospital for eye surgery following his macular pucker. Evidently I am receiving my parents' infirmities on an accelerated schedule... But Art, the durable, the resilient, gives hope to me still.
In Nashville, Art and I were part of a memorable dinner expedition which opted for fondue...memorable in my case since I made it to the last bite before forgetting that taking a bite too swiftly could fry your tongue for the rest of the weekend...
Art made up for it this year in San Antonio, by locating a seafood restaurant just across the street from the hotel, after Michelle and I had suffered through a couple of poorly-charted dinner excursions that led us on wild goose chases all over Alamo country..... Of course, in the few minutes it took Art to wander into the hotel bar and back, he had added another eight dining companions to our party, but that's just the way Art is. He could probably walk into a bar anywhere in the world and assemble a Last Supper-sized party of friends. And for all I know, has.
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