30 Years Since Ryan Died

Today marks the 30^th year that my childhood friend died, marking my push into adulthood.  In many ways, that was when I began everything I’ve become: a writer, a filmmaker, etc.  Up until April 20, 1985 I spent most of my time with him.  We hung out together at school, and spent most weekends together at either his place or mine playing with our action figures, which we called Star Wars and Adventure People, or SWAP.

This was where I developed my fondness for storytelling.  The way it all began was when Ryan, after being diagnosed with cancer for the first time at the age of six, was given a land speeder and the figures for Chewbacca and Han Solo.  I got Luke Skywalker and the X-Wing.  We began the story then with these figures initially representing us.  As we got more figures, they became more characters in our world, and the storyline continued every time we got together on the weekends.  My personal character changed from Luke to a fireman.  Ryan’s changed almost every time.  He had a strange enjoyment of secrecy.

We purchased buildings as well, and soon we were able to build entire communities in my basement or his loft.  The one coming over would bring a small team of characters, and the one hosting built the community and the characters and situations in each building.  The story continued weekend after weekend, month after month, year after year.

He was only expected to live six months, but he survived for seven years.  But in the end, the cancer caught up with him, and he died after one of his lungs collapsed.

The story with him was incomplete, and will remain so.  But every character, situation, town, ship, storyline, and crisis, they all appear inside my stories today.  I feel as though I owe it to him, and the stories we created, to do the best with them that I can.