eFanzines.com - My Back Pages
You're Still on My Mind is a letterzine companion to My Back Pages
You're Still on My Mind
is a letterzine companion to My Back Pages
Special feature:
Through Time and Space -
Forry Ackermans remembrances from Mimosa
edited by Rich Lynch
Special feature:
I Remember Me and Other Narratives
Walt Willis articles and essays from Mimosa
edited by Rich Lynch
Welcome to my world! My Back Pages is a personal anthology project of my previously published articles and essays. I've been a writer for several decades, so this is a multiple-issue collection.
Click on the cover image or link to read each issue.
For the first issue I selected seven pieces which provides an indication of some of my interests—sports, music, travel, fan history, and family.
The second issue, published just before the 2010 Australia worldcon, is book-ended by articles I wrote and co-wrote about two previous epic adventures Down Under.
Issue #3 is a travel-themed issue with essays involving undocumented historical sites, valorous stadium vendors, large bronze bulls, Broadway shows, winged warriors, evening receptions, vicarious interplanetary journeys, notable old buildings, amber jewelry, semi-obscure composers, famous science fiction fans, and snow emergencies.
Issue #4 is a summer-themed issue, with essays involving famous bulls, gargantuan lawn ornaments, favorite buildings, ornery babushkas, unruly sheepdogs, human lemmings, legendary musicians, unusual ceiling fans, memorable conventions, larger-than-life superheroes, different kinds of cathedrals, and absent friends.
Issue #5 is a western-themed issue about conventions and absent friends, with essays involving talented writers, big blue bears, popular aquatic creatures, famous shrines, ceramic teapots, chocolate rockets, legendary fanzines, erroneous street maps, famous fan communities, unusual things to collect, fannish hijinks, language barriers, financial karma, unexpected silver linings, damaged suitcases, and far-reaching results of chance remarks.
Issue #6 has been built to withstand some cold weather and features some of my articles and essays about experiences in (or leading up to) the cold weather months, involving gigantic sand dunes, unusual financial wizardry, wading flamingos, historical museums, fabulous beasts, cape-ified statues, entertaining musicals, deserving authors, notable fans and fan organizations, legendary composers, frightened housepets, historical artifacts, favorite buildings, crocheted sea creatures, thunder snow, and one truly awesome robot.
Issue #7 is structured as a personal journey, with essays involving long walks, barroom brawls, gamma rays, signature screams, album cover recreations, lucrative tourist attractions, singing subway attendants, famous paintings, skyscrapers old and new, conversations with strangers, strawberry shortcake, good and bad karma, foreign visitors, visits with foreigners, movie script ideas, and lots and lots of beer.
Issue #8 was assembled in the dog days of a hot summer, with essays involving award-winning authors, capital cities, unhappy gamblers, excruciating meetings, victory laps, reunited roommates, science fictional road trips, human pinball machines, acrylic rockets, ocean views, famous astronauts, eye-glazing viewgraphs, malevolent-looking handguns, unusual culinary delicacies, aggressive salesladies, popular tourist attractions, good beer, favorite destinations, and absent friends.
Issue #9 pays homage to some of the famous #9s of the world, and has essays involving large and small Chinatowns, magnificent cathedrals, unusual wedding strategies, new kinds of metrics, expert craftsmanship, large sports trophies, tardy commuter buses, hotel lobbies, small fanzines, long road trips, un-dark skies, expensive food, cool breezes, spectacular views, scale models, tourist attractions, dangerous places, good beer, and many, many absent friends.
Issue #10 is an achievement and adventure-themed issue, with essays involving spectacular mountains, healing waters, elderly singers, good appetites, signature images, luncheon seminars, climate models, Washington moments, traumatic events, insect invasions, speeding spaceships, site selections, wedding processions, mistaken identities, wild onions, distinctive buildings, planetarium shows, wobbly tables, and ruminant curses.
Issue #11 is another travel-themed issue, with essays involving oversized pecans, English philosophers, larger-than-life sports trophies, glass pyramids, pain medications, large and small watercraft, total immersion tours, successful marketing strategies, property taxes, strange legacies, failed revolutions, architectural makeovers, famous sculptures, iconic poses, great musicians, entertaining theatre productions, porcelain automatons, film crews, literary researchers, and some unseasonably warm winter weather.
Issue #12 is a late summer issue influenced by the 2014 NASFiC, Detcon 1, with essays involving memorial plaques, painted guitars, aspiring musicians, swarming bats, presidential encounters, giant pecans, boat tours, sporting event recreations, scholarly researchers, dance music, friendly docents, unfinished projects, famous domiciles, violin concertos, protest songs, spectacular meltdowns, car breakdowns, signature images, wild daisies, ancient tombs, city walks, excessive gratuity charges, friends who are instigators, Viagra gelato, and some really good barbecue.
Issue #13 is not at all concerned with triskaidekaphobia and has essays involving long airport layovers, hexagonal pavilions, Korean food, hi-tech toilets, mountain tunnels, picture postcards, ragtime music, group dinners, old photographs, interplanetary missions, government mindsets, space movies, big windstorms, slippery slopes, jazz orchestras, art museums, buried treasure, micro universes, famous actors, and some very cold winter weather.
Issue #14 is a not-quite-ready-for retirement issue, and includes essays involving Norwegian humor, road trips, dinner expeditions, building restoration, coastal waters, mossy trees, spectacular vistas, famous composers, fresco murals, giant fists, famous churches, draconian choices, intimidating views, large ships, baseball stadiums, small superheros, inaccurate road maps, fanzine covers, fannish legends, and lots of old friends.
Issue #15 is an end of the year collection of articles and essays about the end of the year (more or less), and includes essays involving good and bad karma, historic homes, scary tumbles, snowy driving conditions, Broadway celebs, avant-garde art exhibitions, wizened self-portraits, independent bookstores, famous operas, literary war jokes, prescient predictions, unreliable cars, chess tourneys, lost passports, long bus trips, crisis management, large power plants, small souvenirs, entertaining rants, various kinds of statues, and many, many mute swans.
Issue #16 pays homage to some of the famous #16s of the world, and has essays involving desert sunrises, tall buildings, double rainbows, famous songwriters, entertaining sound bites, long climbs, retro TV shows, esoteric collectibles, underground tours, community fairs, movie props, exquisite guitars, cartoon anvils, state capitols, climate zones, public art displays, affordable real estate, long business meetings, digitized fanzines, hazy skies, ornate hotels, and scenic views.
Issue #17 is a year-end collection that starts with a long and at times strange journey, and includes essays involving teetering glass display cases, sweaty dinner expeditions, accusations of spying, protected sanctuaries, icy traverses, well-attired mountain climbs, earthquake epicenters, frigid hitchhikes, altitude-challenged terrain, river confluences, photography challenges, clear skies, city park pow-wows, employment outsourcing, focal-point fanzines, woodland views from on high, Viennese composers, good and bad winter weather, entertaining musicals, minimalist paintings, subway mosaics, and the New York City street grid. This issue also, for the first time in the run, includes a previously unpublished essay.
Issue #18 notes my absence from both this year’s Worldcon and NASFiC, and has essays involving colonial debates, rescued conventions, curated fanzine collections, golden domes, long escalators, large aquariums, famous domiciles, notable science fiction fans, extinct stadiums, lingering controversies, divine ideas, memorable encounters, autographed books, enigmatic composers, 50-year reunions, fuel-efficient vehicles, personal records, motorcycle rallies, art museums, scenic sunsets, medieval cathedrals, and lots of snow-covered mountainous terrain.
Issue #19 deplores the soon-to-be undearly departed 2017 as one terrible, horrible, no good, very bad year, and has essays involving historic mansions, convincing re-enactors, subway cars, Broadway shows, urban renewal, pub food, deadly duels, famous composers, iconic catchphrases, tablet computers, 1930s comic books, noir-ish buildings, foreboding edifices, unpaid interns, jams & singalongs, storm warnings, ancient palace grounds, Buddhist temples, worrisome fortunes, sushi adventures, retirement plans, and lots of Morris Dancers.
Issue #20 is a "getting closer to retirement" issue and has essays involving close-up magic and far-off business destinations, oppressive desert heat and refreshing evaporative cooling, fast cars and slow bicycles, large buildings and small details, Madisonian libertarianism and Rooseveltian progressivism, 1950s space ships and current-day space stations, famous cowboys and famous Missourians, posh hotels and run-down motels, first fans and First Fans, State Capitols and County Courthouses, steamy blues and cool jazz, hot barbecue and the Cold War, bronze statues and scrap metal constructs, large conventions and larger conventions, fan libraries and fanfiction, no reservations and “No Award”. And colophons... Why did it have to be colophons?
Issue #21, while themeless, still pays its respects to some famous 21s and has essays involving Italian visitors and Greek food, new traditions and decades-old nostalgia, 19th century funicular railways and 20th century space shuttles, large museums and small mummies, famous sculptures and Sisyphean performance art, testing one’s endurance and demonstrating one’s self-sufficiency, newish Broadway shows and oldish Broadway theatres, all-pervasive rush hour traffic and absent friends, old rocks and Classic Rock, sun dogs and shelter cats, alkaline dust and acidic reviews by critics, homeland security and home runs, snow storms and ICE, long day trips and short stories, storm clouds and sunny personalities, whodunit mysteries and he-dun-it one-man shows, ornate structures and simple pleasures…and some really, really jubilant sports fans.
Because of the temporal nearness of the upcoming Irish Worldcon, Issue #22 has a travel-oriented theme and has essays involving Native American culture and Indian food, tall mountains and ocean vistas, ancient computers and modern cell phones, completed walks and works-in-progress, rental cars and water buses, famous writers and somewhat obscure composers, small spittoons and large ash heaps, opened time capsules and preserved brains, strange stories and familiar melodies, glass artifacts and wooden bells, sunny afternoons and inky-dark skies, colorful theories and black & white comics, intense business meetings and serene beach life, fine cheese and a traffic jam, labyrinthine passageways and an expansive convention center, old friends and “old school”...and 15 minutes of media fame – in Estonia!
Issue #23 is a mixed bag, with essays involving everything from a popular 1980s rock opera to an obscure 1960s British pop music group, from a high-resolution IMAX movie screen to grainy B&W television sets, from a short vacation to a long-distance business trip, from frigid outdoor temperatures to searing pyrotechnic performance art, from small clay beads to the Great Ocean Road, from A-list actors/actresses to B-grade sci-fi movies, from no Shazams to NO SHOOTING, from robbing someone’s possessions to Stealing Klimpt, from eccentric stage characters to just this regular guy, from eerie synchronicity to plain old bad luck, from launching rockets to launching baseballs. And also “Baby Shark” – how the heck am I gonna get that earworm out of my head?
Issue #24 was assembled in the middle of the ongoing world health crisis and has essays involving large cities and small college towns, a heavenly altarpiece and a demon barber, lost photographs and discovered keepsakes, huge spheres and regular-sized disk jockeys, blue skies and a robot deluge, national elections and regional theatre, famous writers and forgotten outcomes, major tourist attractions and minor league baseball, sharp razors and a pandemic beard, fan friends and an unseen enemy, cancelled conventions and rescheduled meetings, rich pastries and penniless college students, good musicals and bad taste, dumb questions and dumber suggestions. And also the stuff legends are made of.
The 25th installment of my personal time capsule is once again being assembled in the midst of the ongoing world health crisis and also in the aftermath of a contentious national election, with essays and commentary involving annual mini-vacations and decadal defining events, giant digital billboards and a little electronic piano, small conventions and a hugely-popular movie, an industrialized underworld and a pastoral place for meditation, late-1960s rock albums and a mid-1970s prankster, a colorful Moth and some tighty-whities, bad hiking conditions and Good Eats, hands-on exhibits and Hands off the election results!, lavish scenic design and a blank empty stage, new Broadway productions and My Old Kentucky Home, overpowering organ music and subtle humor, a subliminally terrifying possibility and some welcome comic relief, three degrees of separation and breaking the fourth wall, old friends and a cosmic interloper, a great 1920s sports legend and The Great Gonzo, Tony Award winners and trump.lost.elections. Hey Donald, youre fired!
The 26th installment of my personal time capsule, which includes the 200th essay since I began these compilations, is once again being composed in the belly of the beast, a.k.a. the fucking COVID-19 pandemic. Its the usual disparate collection of topics, including large sculptures and small rockets, inventive illustrations and prosaic Halloween costumes, experienced professional editors and fledgling fan publishers, close friends and distant places to visit, historic chateaus and an ordinary small town, an efficient walking route and a meandering sled run, deep crevasses and a flat mosaic-tiled floor, impressionist artists and impressionable young minds, ground transportation and Sky Birds, quiet green spaces and a clanging swordfight, Hersheys Miniatures and some Big Air, super-secret Government activities and overt enthusiasm, the first snow of winter and the last roses of summer. and also, just possibly, a Ghost in the Machine. If there was, would we perceive that? Would we even notice?
Issue #27 appears to be stuck in a pandemic-induced Groundhog Day kind of time loop, but nevertheless has essays and commentary involving old-school communication and new-fangled technology, familiar faces and unfamiliar circumstances, a rapid heart rate and a slow invasion, indoor photography and an outdoor autumn stroll, a famous Broadway musical and obscure roadside attractions, oversized home furniture and underwhelming convention programming, colorful sense-of-wonder experiences and a black-and-white television, close friends and distant international colleagues, nearly-forgotten fan organizations and an instantly recognizable TV network logo, a national news broadcast and regional theatre, heavenly barbecue and a demonic treadmill, a ferocious cat snarl and WOOF. And also, finally, an answer to the often-pondered question: Wheres my flying car? Hey, its right over there!
The 28th installment of my personal time capsule is a “I think we’re finally escaping the pandemic” issue and has essays involving cheap hotel rates and a very expensive personal boondoggle, big balloons and a small cat, scary rollercoasters and not-so-scary sci-fi movies, notable edifices and ordinary-looking spring blossoms, artificial satellites and a very real sense-of-wonder, a long walking tour and a relatively short drive, a famous quote and a semi-obscure composer, a smart chatbot and a dumb stunt, complex machinations and elegant simplicity, drowsy Worldcon attendees and rousing march music, photos of the heavens and an underground fallout shelter, an extended hotel stay and a brief mountain climbing career, specialized historical research and an eclectic museum, National Poetry Month and The Year of the Jackpot. And also an ‘Un-bucket List’ – hey, *everybody* ought to have one of those!
Issue #29 of my personal time capsule is very firmly embedded into the year-end Holiday Season and has essays involving well-known Christmas songs and obscure Broadway shows, a classical music composer and an all-female jazz band, painted sculptures and a large monochromatic expanse, autumn colors and Milky White, glorious chaos and a meticulously-designed mosaic floor, going back in time and a message for future fans, hundreds of thousands of toothpicks and one very tall tree, a very cold concert hall and Some Like It Hot, forgettable stage productions and remembrances of friends, relentless music and a calm October day. And also a museum that Hieronymus Bosch would have enjoyed. Really!
Hope you will find it an interesting and entertaining experience.
The 30th issue of an ongoing personal time capsule heralds the coming of Summer (at least for all of us here in the Northern Hemisphere) and has essays and related commentary involving Italian food and Irish coffee, dark fantasy and an illuminated manuscript, large stills and tiny streets, a short awards presentation and The Long Room, a classical composer and space opera, a small convention and Big Data, radio astronomy and television-to-watch, a warm ovation and “cold as stone”, turmoil in the hallways and a calmly-flowing river, The Great Whiskey Fire and Water Music, citizen science and fantasy fiction, a Worldcon chair and The Teeling Throne. And also some really authentic Irish music. Light and innocuous? Ohhh no…
This 31st installment of my personal time capsule is filled to the brim with timebinding and performance art, and has essays and related commentary involving depressing election results and ecstatic knee drops, newest generation mobile phones and obsolete personal computers, miniaturist artisans and a huge number of books, a prominent songwriter and an obscure documentary film, famous Broadway productions and a notorious science fiction fan, a major international award and minor league baseball, bright comets and a dumbstruck look of awe, an East Coast mini-vacation and Westercon, a large precision dance company and a small circle of friends, a fast-moving DeLorean Motor Car and a stationary camera, an expansive athletic field and a compact museum, an overly-warm hotel and a chilling realization, the streets of New York and “We don’t need roads!” And also figuratively being transported back in time – hey, I love it when that happens!