THE ONE I WISH RICK HAD SEEN

I started contributing pictures to Naked Sunfish after Rick, who I was acquainted with but didn't know really well at the time, said abruptly, during a conversation about something else entirely: "I know you can draw. You should send something for my online zine." I said I'd think about it. A couple months later, he said, impatiently, "So when are you going to send a drawing??" I remember thinking, wow, that's pretty demanding for a guy who's asking for free content. But I eventually sent him one. After which he made a point of asking when I'd be sending the next one. Pretty soon, every month or so I would think "I need to get a drawing or photo done for Naked Sunfish." It not only felt good to be contributing to the zine, it was great being a part of something that featured the work of so many people, each of them connected to Rick in some way. I looked forward to seeing every issue.

Although there's some variety in what I sent over the years, the drawings I liked sharing the most were of people around Columbus just doing everyday things. Rick once told me I should publish a book of them. That's when I realized he enjoyed them.

Like most bright people who don't want to wake up to doing the same thing everyday, Rick's interests were wide-ranging and his opinions weren't always easy to predict. Not because he kept them to himself, but because he didn't form his opinions without first putting a lot of thought into them, meaning he didn't always arrive at the conclusion you might expect. In general, though, one of two Ricks would reliably emerge during most conversations. There was the Rick who was angry whenever he saw instances of injustice. He became especially outraged when he encountered insensitivity toward, or downright dishonesty about, injustice. Some people will expressly tell you they detest privilege. Rick didn't have to; it was manifest in his attitudes and his actions.

There was also the Rick who loved absurdity, would laugh his ass off at the ridiculous things people did. Sometimes you got both Ricks in the same conversation. One day during a gloomy stretch of 2019, when the political situation in the US was as bad as it got prior to the pandemic, we were talking over lunch. We were both furious and somewhat despairing about the state of things in the US. He also happened to be fighting off the remnants of a head cold. I wanted to cheer him up and thought he would enjoy hearing the early rumors about Jerry Falwell Jr. and his wife Becky getting caught out in (kind of) a threesome, some photos having gotten out. Rick's response was exasperation. "Why do people take pictures and video of themselves when they're having sex?" he ranted. "Don't they KNOW that stuff is going to wind up out in front of the public?" He shook his head in irritation, cast his eyes upward, looked physically pained by this latest stupidity. I started laughing. He was on a roll. "You want people to see you having sex, do it in the park! Set up some folding chairs! Sell tickets. Why not make some money off it?!" His irritation gave way to a rasping laugh, this time shaking his head with more of an "ah, I give up" demeanor.

There's nothing contradictory about the two Ricks. They're quite consistent with each other. Life is hard, and he wanted people to at least be free to enjoy themselves from time to time. He was angry when people's chances at happiness were stripped away by poverty, exploitation, and violence. Given that we never seem to reach a state where people with less power aren't threatened by people with more power, laughing at the excesses of the powerful is one means of self-preservation--not in the sense of base survival, but as a way of not losing one's unique and integral self. Rick had a sense of protectiveness toward the existence of ordinary, anonymous people who don't have enough money or status to keep away the predators. The stories he wrote in Naked Sunfish were nearly always about such people. There was usually humor involved, and the humor expressed something about each person that set them apart--only this person with these particular qualities or this specific history could have landed the joke (intentional or unintentional) in that moment.

When I draw people I see in public, it's usually just a quick sketch with a ballpoint pen on whatever paper's available. Later I go home and redraw it on a sketchpad. i usually have a backlog of sketches waiting to be developed further. The other day I found one from the summer of 2020 that I'd meant to finish for Naked Sunfish, but lost track of. It was of a guy I met briefly while registering people to vote at a folding table near a community grocery stand where people could buy fresh fruits and vegetables with their EBT cards. The guy in question bought a couple bags of produce and stayed around a while to chat with the folks working at the stand. Then he ambled over to my table, walking a small and energetic dog. The dog had been ready to leave 10 minutes ago, but the guy liked talking, so the dog was left to dance around frantically at the end of the leash. Guy said he was already registered. I congratulated him. He launched into an impassioned monologue about how people needed to vote Trump out. I just listened; I don't express or respond to any political opinions when registering voters. He got pretty worked up and began talking louder. "Trump said people in the military are suckers and losers! Well, I'm a veteran, and Trump can go FUCK HIMSELF!" (At that point I had to struggle to maintain my practiced air of "Oh that's interesting, I don't have any opinion though.")

No regrets about having contributed to this zine over the years, other than wishing I had remembered to finish up that drawing and send it in. I think Rick would have enjoyed it.