This is an interesting question, largely because I have been wondering this myself a lot lately. I used to read constantly, and I wrote a lot more as well. The fact that I do not do so as much now bugs the hell out of me, and I occasionally have spurts where I try to get back in the habit of doing both.

I have, for example, been using my phone to compose posts for this blog. For some reason I am finding that particularly frustrating this morning, but I think I just sorted out why. Anyway…

My perfect space for reading and writing would start with a chair I can sit comfortably in for long periods. I assume that sounds basic, but the fact is I have not been able to find one in a very long time. Either the chair starts to hurt my back after a while or I cannot hold a book at the right angle.

It would have a small fridge for beverages and snacks, and (of course) a coffee maker. Preferably one attached to a water line for minimal refill effort.

It would need to be cool and cozy. A fireplace would be nice. A room with a nice view where I could contemplate nature when I felt the need to pause and reflect for a few. Someplace quiet, with minimal distractions and perhaps built inside of a faraday cage so the internet would not follow me in.

I suppose none of this is terribly original but it sounds pretty great to me.

My first car was a white 1964 Chrysler Newport Sedan. It was my best car.

I “inherited” it from my Grandfather sometime in the late 90’s. If I had to guess I would say it was 1988. My Grandfather was still alive when I got it, but the family had removed it from his house when he wouldn’t stop driving despite the fact that he could hardly hear or see.

The last time I rode in that car with him was quite the experience, let me tell you. I distinctly remember my grandmother yelling at him what the color of the lights were and when he needed to stop.

I learned how to drive in that car. Not legally, mind you. When my Mother and her partner would leave town I would take the car out, pick up my friends, and go joy riding. I eventually got busted for doing this because they checked the odometer against the mileage that was on the car before they left.

Another interesting side note to that – I still straight up lied about it and refused to take responsibility. I was quite the asshole as a teenager.

In any case, when I was legally able to drive I was given the Newport. I promptly dubbed it Bessie, the Hungry Heifer, because fuel efficiency was not a thing that mattered when that beautiful beast was built. My Grandfather had taken immaculate care of that car and everything still worked, up to and including the totally awesome PUSH BUTTON GEAR SHIFT.

Retro Sci-Fi console vibes galore, my friends.

I have probably told this story here on multiple occasions, but the abbreviated sad end to my time with Bessie was when I completely totaled it by driving like an asshole. I almost killed a small child in the process, not to mention the three passengers that were in the car with me, but Bessie was the only actual casualty that day.

I have always wanted to replace that car, but of course as the years have passed that has become more and more of an increasingly expensive pipe dream. Still, no car I have had since has come close to being as awesome as The Hungry Heifer.

This kind of question is complicated for me. My father left home when I was very young, and while I have fond memories of him because of our interactions when I was in my twenties, he really did not have much of a positive impact on my life.

Then there was Dick, the man my mother spent over two decades with but who never got off his ass and married her. My feelings about Dick are complicated, but I will give him credit for trying. He came into my life when I was a rebellious teenager and did his best to “whip me into shape,” but most of his efforts were not only ineffective but had the opposite impact on me (I rebelled more).

In between the two, though…We had a very odd extended family during those years. My Mother was a bartender, and she built a village around us of “aunts” and “uncles” who all contributed in some way to trying to help her raise her kids. Make no mistake, these were hard-drinking party people who, for the most part, would have made horrible full-time parents. As a collective, though, they helped form a community around us that was loving and warm and full of joy. When I think of “family” I think of these people. I only think of my biological family in terms of the events they came to with my “real” family.

An example – The one Christmas tradition I miss the most is Christmas breakfast. Mom opened her house to the tribe, and spent the entire morning cooking as they wandered through. It was amazing. Laughter and good food and (of course) plenty of Bloody Mary’s. That was Christmas.

During this time a lot of men helped to step in and be “father” figures for me. Taking me on camping trips, helping with school projects, talking to me about “guy” things. That kind of stuff.

The man who made the biggest impact on me during that time was Jack Chinn. He was a standard member of that group. Hard drinking, chain smoking, partying so hard he put himself into an early grave.

But he was also a big geek. And he recognized me as one of his own.

Jack gave me my first copies of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy,

I do not remember which birthday it was, but definitely in my early teen years. He told me at the time to read The Hobbit but to hold off on the others until I was older (he was dead on about that…it was not until I was much older that I could truly appreciate the other novels). Jack opened my eyes to a whole new world, and there was no turning back.

Jack also took me to see Flash Gordon. He exposed me to many different genres of science fiction and fantasy. His influence sparked an interest in Dungeons and Dragons, and my love of role-playing drew a direct line to my acting career.

Amusingly, I stumbled across his Gor novels at one point. Thankfully, he quickly steered me away from THOSE (I found them on my own when it was age-appropriate for me to do so).

There are a lot of men who had impact on my life, but Jack was one of the standouts. I miss him, and wish I could have gotten to know him better as an adult and friend, but as one of my many father figures he was damn near the best.

“My life is better for having known him.”

Walking. There is no other answer. This was easy.

Every time I have hit and maintained a weight goal in my life it was during a time I walked daily.

I have much more mental clarity on days that start with a one hour walk.

I spend my time walking listening to audio books or podcasts that entertain me or enrich my life (or both).

The time I spend walking is 100% self-care and it makes me feel as though I am taking care of myself.

I also get a lot of work done while I am walking, and my notes to myself frequently result in a lot of productive activity during my work day.

I love lifting weights. I love running. But walking is the world champion of exercise in my eyes.

Oh, wow. This is hard. Are we talking animated movie or cartoon show? Individual episode or series? Character? Gah! So many choices.

I think I am going to have to go with Star Trek: Lower Decks. It was a toss-up between that and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. I could also have picked from any number of animated shows I have watched throughout my life, but those two are the ones I immensely think of when I think of cartoons I love.

Lower Decks is, quite simply, some of the best Star Trek content that has ever been produced. It is smart, funny, engaging, and a love letter to the franchise that keeps getting better every season. My wife, who is not big on animated stuff and only got into Trek recently, agrees.

As far as Spider-Man is concerned? He has been my favorite hero since I was in my early teens, and Into the Spider-Verse was quite simply the best representation of the universe outside of the comics in my opinion. I also saw it in the theater with my son, so it has a special place in my heart for that reason as well.