I’m going to side step pop culture for the week, in a way, and take an oddly specific deep dive into… politics. (note to the editors: if you could maybe cue up a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder here that would be great! -M)
A point of order first: I actually believe politics goes hand in hand with pop culture. So much of what is created for entertainment is not made in a vacuum. It is, in fact, generated through the lens of the author — and their perspective absolutely is shaped (among other things) by the political landscape in which they live. I could pelt you with a 1000 examples, but instead, I’ll give you one. Look at the most recognizable symbol of our dear comic books, Superman. He is the creation of the sons of Jewish immigrants, literally celebrating the American Way—truth, justice, and defending the people living, toiling, and loving one another. Immigrants included. Funny, that.
With that said? I think I’ve earned my supper. Let’s eat.
My name is Marc Alan Fishman. I am 44 years old. I’m a husband of almost seventeen years to my lovely wife Kathy. I’m a father to four funny, artistic, frustrating, maniacally chaotic (and yes, cute) kids. I’ve been a graphic designer professionally for twenty-two years. I’ve been a comic book maker for sixteen. I am from a small south suburb of Chicago, known far and wide as Homewood. My parents moved us to Homewood when I was five years old, and still remain in their split ranch home just about eight blocks from my own home. Aside from a six-year stint in Indianapolis, I have basically always been a Homewood boy — even if you have to squint during the years I lived in neighboring cities, squirreling away enough money to afford to live in Homewood. That’s right. I’m just this side of millennial enough I got one of those insanely rare almost not financially crippling mortgages the youth now look at like a horcrux. Jealous? Don’t be.
Simply put, I love Homewood. We’re thirty-five minutes south of downtown Chicago — meaning we’re never far from all the culture, good eats, ballgames, and the hustle-and-bustle. We’re just far enough out though that we’re also not twenty minutes away from huge swatches of greenery, flowers, and actual nature. Our town has a cool little downtown that has plenty of personality. We have great schools (I mean… I’m a product of them, and people tend to think I turned out OK, right?). We have a ton of parks for kids to play at. I could go on. On paper? Homewood is the kinda place that threads the needle for a ton of awesome people. In the last five years or so though… I’ve noted more than a few sundry things that seemed less than ideal. Issues that suddenly struck me as interesting much to my 
horror — because these weren’t lengthy debates about the quality of the MCU, the plight of the WWE, or the play calling of my beloved Chicago Bears. No, friends, these were local political issues! (note again, editors: this would be a good time to toss in the special effects. It’s a call back. People will totally laugh. Trust me.)
Let me take a polite step back. Politically speaking? I grew up in a home that didn’t discuss it much, if at all. My parents seemed like democrats, but literally never spoke about it at the dinner table. During the Iraq war? They were angrier at the interruptions that sidelined Cheers or Roseanne than they were over Bush’s invasion of the Persian Gulf. During election seasons, my mom was apt only to comment on the charisma of a candidate, never any opinion on their policies. My father said even less. By the time I was in college, it was clear socially I was very liberal. The seething rage my generation had over Bush Jr. made sense to me. When it was my time to vote, I did so alongside my friends. One flashpoint for me though came when my friend Angie sat me down and force-fed me an episode of The West Wing. Aaron Sorkin’s walking-talking love letter to capital D democracy absolutely bowled me over. What literal moderate feelings I might have had prior were wiped out in a flood of Martin Sheen’s President Jed Bartlet. This truly idyllic take on what politics could be enamored me. And not a decade later came Parks and Recreation — a sitcom that took Sorkin’s optimism and yes-anded it into central Indiana in a town of kooks. Combine those two shows, and poof: you have my personal political stance on a stick.
So… why all this preamble? Imagine me, a West Wing Parks n’ Rec liberal, realizing that his actual real life town might have some political fracas to freak out about. The slow realization that I might actually need to participate in local politics was strange and unfamiliar. Yet, there I found myself at a Village board meeting, alongside other passionate residents… all there at the time to support a specific cause. And then repeat that feeling about ten or so more times over the next few years, as sundry concerns kept creeping up.
It came to a head at a meeting of villagers and local leaders I myself was not even a part of. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, in which I was knee deep in doing what I normally do: creating things and managing four smaller versions of myself. Somewhere between drawing a new poster for Unshaven Comics’ merch table, helping my daughter log on to Roblox (against my will, I promise), editing a freelance client’s presentation deck, arguing with my fourteen-year-old about the viability of citing Youtuber as a potential career, and ensuring I got the whole family’s McDonald’s order for lunch correct… my phone began to blow up with texts.
About a month prior to this random weekend, I’d signed an online petition to urge our village to celebrate pride in Homewood (the LGBTQ+ kind) a bit more robustly. Specifically? To once again fly the pride flag, during the month of June. It seems that with enough signatures on hand, the folks organizing it brought it to Village Hall for presentation. Multiple folks on hand at this meeting of the minds wrote me to report how problematic the ask was proving. In response to this presentation, the village board at the very next meeting passed an omnibus bill that included an official mandate that established henceforth Homewood would only fly government flags from its municipal flag pole slots. It was an insult added to injury. I was floored by it all.
I realized, plainly, it’s not enough to shake my fist. If you want to change, you have to be the change. I’m sure I stole that adage from somewhere. Oh well.
Long story kept long? I am running to become one of Homewood’s 6 trustees. The election is in April of 2027. My first step? Getting signatures on a petition to add me to the ballot. I am not alone for the journey. I am joining with two other fine local candidates, who share the same ideas and passion I do — to bring change to the town we already love, to make it all the more lovable. So, stay tuned, America. Perhaps this is the start of my long journey to the White House. Or more likely… a Waffle House, on the way to the next con, with a hilarious story to tell Matt and Kyle.
Rao bless America.
