On this day in 1980...

I hope Berk Breathed will not be angered by my sharing his FaceBook page for today.

There's a tenuous connection between Mr. Breathed and myself that should be preserved for posterity (why? who knows-). He graduated from the Department of Journalism in May and my graduate student days began in August. His desk was still warm when first my butt sat upon it.

Many faculty were not sad to see him move onward as he had lampooned and speared them mercilessly during the years he drew Academia Waltz for the Daily Texan and later, Bloom County. When he targeted a faculty member for humor, the rendition, although a cartoon, possessed adequate verisimilitude for virtually everyone to know who had been gigged by Berk.The rumor mill said they invariably deserved his attentions.

At the other end of my academic career, we passed in the night in New Mexico, 1986; I had just returned from The University to real life. Sorta, anyway... He broke his back when his ultra-light airplane crashed while attempting to land at the little airport in north Albuquerque. His friends put a gigantic get well card on the billboard across from his hospital so he could see it from his bed. I could be in error, my memory isn't what I think it used to be, but it says he met his first wife, who was a nurse, while bedridden.

Strangely, we almost passed each other in Santa Barbara, too. And, no, I am not stalking him.

Giant Purple Snorklewackers live even yet. I'm trying to locate a pure blood line to breed here at Stratheden Farm; if you know of a breeder, please notify me.