If you recognize the name above or if you just find yourself with a couple of spare minutes, I hope that you will give what I have written a quick glance. It’s my small way of saying thank you, and what I consider an extraordinary example of the way all of our lives can find themselves intertwined.
When the phone at my desk rang at work during what had been an otherwise uneventful, almost boring Monday, my honest first reaction was annoyance bordering on anger. I had been dealing with the television provider for the hotel I work at, trying to get their tech support to actually fix what was wrong for a change. The ringing phone next to me had to be them, ready to cheerfully inform me that the problem still wasn’t fixed, but that it was being escalated to the next tier of techs for review. I picked up the phone, ready for the Indian accents on the other end of the line to help ease me into my coping mechanism of believing that if I spend enough time on hold, this would all reveal itself to be some weird technology-inspired religion and I’ll be escalated to the Tech Of The Highest Tier and achieve total enlightenment. Or something like that.
Turns out it wasn’t them. In fact, my evening was about to go as far in the opposite direction as you could possibly get from where I originally thought it was headed. On the other end of the line was Cheryl. Cheryl had been a co-worker for many years, possessing a great sense of humor, but was somebody who had never called me out-of-the-blue.
“Hey, you like comics and graphic novels and stuff, right?” Well, I indeed like stuff just fine, but I happen to like comics and graphic novels a whole lot. Some of the people closest to me would at times say a bit too much, and that not everything in life can be explained by a metaphor involving Spider-Man. So naturally, my answer to Cheryl’s question was, “Yes, I love comics.” Cheryl explained that she had recently inherited some items from a friend who wanted to find a good home for them. I’ve had a few conversations like this since becoming a collector, and it’s always right about at this point where I start to get to a level of nervous I would imagine is comparable to a childless couple in the final stages of trying to adopt. Very much “don’t-say-anything-to-fuck-this-up-stupid”…esque. The addition of just one single comic into my collection is something to be celebrated in my eyes; inciting a small fraction of that pure, unsullied-by-the-real-world type of euphoria you used to feel as a little kid on Christmas morning.
As steady as possible, I managed to get out, “If you have a couple of comics that you need me to take off your hands, they will have a good home, they will be read and they will be appreciated.” I was told by Cheryl that it wasn’t just a couple of comics, but that she had “a lot” of stuff that was mine if I wanted it. I’ve found that every person’s definition of “a lot” tends to vary wildly, and that it does so even more when it comes to comics for some reason. I guess to somebody who doesn’t collect, a stack of five or ten graphic novels or comics seems like “a lot.” So, I told myself that I wasn’t going to get my hopes up too high.
Schedules being what they were, it wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that I was standing in Cheryl’s garage amongst boxes and boxes of comics. Mainly graphic novels, but also floppies, coffee table books, DVDs and toys. I was flabbergasted. This was it. This is the type of thing that every comics fan has wet dreams about (not to promote a stereotype or anything). And it had fallen into my lap. I asked again where it had come from. Cheryl explained that she had been friends for many years with a woman named Andrea. Andrea had been married to a man who had tragically died at the age of thirty-one. That man, in addition to being a huge fan of comics, movies and pop culture had made a highly-regarded career for himself interviewing the people involved in the things he loved.
That man was named Daniel Robert Epstein. I was standing in front of Daniel Robert Epstein’s comics, and they were being given to me.
Which (if you’ve stuck with my story for this long, thanks!) brings me to the reason I’m writing this in the first place. Even though I had just been given so much, I felt at a loss. I had no way of truly saying “thank you” for the generosity which had been shown to me. Of course I could thank Cheryl, and through her pass on my appreciation to Andrea, but it didn’t sit right with me that those gestures by themselves were going to be enough. Everything that I had received would indeed be read and re-read, but the fact that the possessions of somebody who truly loved comics found their way to into the hands another person who truly loves comics still wasn’t enough.
All I have left at my disposal are these words: if you knew Daniel Robert Epstein, if you knew of Daniel Robert Epstein, if you were a fan of his work or of the effort he put forth to produce it, think of him today. Remember a talented man who was full of passion for his family and friends, and for the other things in this life which gave him joy and led him to in turn touch the lives of so many other people through his writing.
If this is the first time that you’ve ever heard the name Daniel Robert Epstein, do yourself a favor and read a couple of his interviews. Or, read “a lot” of his interviews. The man was prolific for his age, conducting thousands of interviews for SuicideGirls, UGO and Newsarama, just to name a few. This story has mainly referenced comics, but the subject matter he touched upon reached into music, movies and literature as well. His interviews walked the path from mainstream to indie, from front-and-center to behind-the-scenes to off-the-beaten-path, and back again.
At the very least, if you find yourself doing an act of kindness or generosity in the near future, and you remember another such act that you read about here, dedicate it to Daniel’s memory. I’ll be telling this story and trying to properly communicate the impact that it’s had upon me for a long time to come; more than likely having a tough time sufficiently doing so, as I find the scope to be enormous.
Andrea, while I’m elated at what your generosity has brought into my life, those feelings are tempered heavily by what you have lost in yours. I am forever grateful.
Daniel Robert Epstein passed away at the age of thirty-one; entirely too young.
DRE's interviews were always amazing. He had an uncanny ability to talk high-level shop with anybody he sat down with, no matter what the subject was, but still have a conversation that any layman could understand.
I really do miss his articles and interviews, they were one of the cool little bonuses in store for me when I joined the site and started to really check out what it had to offer. This is a touching tribute to the man, and I dig it.
What a fantastic story. Thank you for sharing it with us. I, like many here, never met Daniel, but I was shocked and saddened when he died due to his tremendous contributions to this site, both as a writer and as a member.
What a great story. Thank you for posting this. I always enjoyed his interviews and was heartbroken when I read that had passed. I agree, if you don't know who he is, go read what he wrote. There's lots of it around.
Thank you for this. I still see DRE's interviews rotated on this site, and think "Wow, he knew who was going to make it", because so many people he interviewed I really became aware of well after he'd interviewed them for SG. His finger was on the pulse, and he was a real fanboy of a writer, in a good way.
To everyone who has commented: Thank you for helping me show my appreciation by adding your kind words, memories and thoughts on Mr. Epstein and his work. I didn't know quite what to expect when I posted this. What I'm sure of now is that.....SuicideGirls' community is made up of some great people. Thanks again.......
ShaunMcGuffin
I'm lost
August 2012
AUG 20, 2012 06:10 PM