KA NAMA NAMA HEY! Issue #1 December 2013 Volume 1 No. 1 Published Quarterly by Scott Sheaffer For REHeapa Winter Solstice 2013 Mailing Contents © Scott Sheaffer Except Where Otherwise Noted Write to
[email protected] for a Print Quality File The Secret Life of Scotty Sheaffer or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Became a Howard Fan 1. The Comic Book Collector 1970-82 Blame Edgar Rice Burroughs. It’s his fault I write these words. It’s his fault I’m a Robert E. Howard fan. It’s his fault I’m involved in things most of my friends and family know little about. Burroughs (1875-1950) died twenty years before I was born. He was a cavalryman, then a rancher, and then a salesman before he struck gold as a writer. He created John Carter of Mars, Carson of Venus, and many others. Most importantly, Burroughs created Tarzan. Burroughs led me to Howard, but I didn’t read Burroughs until after I read Howard. Huh? How did that happen? Here’s how. First, for full disclosure, I should reveal something. Burroughs had an accomplice. My father. Now my mother’s role is easy to see. In the 1970s and early 80s, we had only one TV, and she’s the one who tuned it to countless science fiction and horror movies and TV shows. No matter how many times she monopolized the TV to watch When Worlds Collide, she’d insist she’d never seen it before. Still, my father’s role was key. I’m sure he never read Howard, and I don’t think he read Burroughs either.