Page 334: Running In The Rain
Good morning everyone. It was a sad week this week, because this monday we had to bury my dad. I actually don’t know if these kinds of things fit here, but then I think about my dad and remind myself how much he influenced me and that this is an autobiographical comic. My dad was a good guy, and he did everything to provide a happy and safe childhood for us. Apart from all the stuff I learned from him, I got to know jazz because of him. Honestly, I don’t know if this book would be existing, if my dad had been a polka-fan.
He was more a „trad“ than a „mod“, but the voices of Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald in our living-room fueled the love for black music even at early age. He even took me to a Lionel Hampton concert once, and proved to be a man with great vision.
This concert at the Philharmonie in Cologne left such a deep impression on me, I will remember it my whole life. I could write pages and pages more about my dad.
The last few weeks were tough, a constant seesaw between the hospital, my family and the final spurt on my book. But apart from all the stress it felt good to be busy with something personal, something that he would have liked, too.
So monday we had to say our final goodbye. And beside all the pain knowing that he’s gone, it hurts that I can’t put my book in his hands this autumn, that we can’t sit together then and talk about the past. I know that I’d be more interested in his stories, because him being a war-child he’s gilt some stories to tell. The cracking under his shoes after the Kristallnacht, the evacuations to safer areas, the bombed city of Düsseldorf, the brothers at the Eastern and Western front, the loss of loved ones. The postwar period in the milk bars of Düsseldorf, how they raced like crazy through the streets after attending a concert of Duke Ellington. And about his time in England where he hung around in dance halls, watching the local Teddie boys.
I fell like there is a new book in the making.
It’s kind of strange, this here page i drew two years ago, back then I just lost a very good friend of mine. My then four-year old daughter saw the page and was quite impressed of the sadness it portrayed. Although the death of my friend doesn’t have anything to do with the events on the page. But why it is it’s turn today is probably on of these things that no one can explain.