www.chuckdixon.net

 MY FRIEND BUTCH GUICE

Around our house he will always be “cousin Butch.”

    There was some highly coincidental anecdotal evidence that he and my wife shared a great-great-grandfather back in the distant past.

And Butch Guice always felt like family, he was that easygoing and downright charming. I know we’re not the only ones who felt that way about him.

    Our association began long distance when Butch was brought on to do art chores on Bird of Prey. Of course, I knew of him. He was already legendary for his talent and reliability. He was a true collaborator, firing off ideas and concepts in the many phone calls I enjoyed so much. Self-effacing, a gifted raconteur and a comics history scholar, an overgrown fanboy just like me. Things would begin with me saying “So, you wanna draw Viking Prince?” and we’d be off to the races, geeking out and counting our blessings that our work was actually play.

    I got to know him even better while working at CrossGen. His ‘quad’, his mini studio was steps from my office and I visited often. I was in Florida and away from my family for a lot of that time and Butch welcomed me into his house for homecooked meals prepared by his wife Julie and sometimes just to hang out on weekends. I recall the epic videogame wars where the Guices would consistently kick my ass including their daughter Beth gleefully gunning me down in the back at every opportunity.

    Butch and I would always joke that one day, when we got old, we’d share a park bench where we would wile away the afternoons bitching about the crazy business we chose for our careers.

    Well, we both got old but we kept working because, bitching aside, we loved what we did. We never wanted to stop. Who would ever want to quit doing what they loved?

    To say I feel a loss today doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. I’m entertaining the usual regrets, the many projects we blue-skyed over the years that will never see the light of day. The feeling that I should have called more, enjoyed a few more of those wonderful conversations. We always think there’s another day, a next opportunity until time runs out.

    All I can say is, Godspeed, cousin and save a seat on that bench for me.