August 24th, 2023
George Michael sang, “I gotta have faith,” and, God, does the Blue-Ringer ever.
Moe Crawford is the odd duck in a group full of strange fowl.
He’s upbeat, infectiously positive, even in the face of the worst news; his unshakable belief in God keeps him going; he generally has his shit together — qualities none of the other Weirdos share.
I half-jokingly refer to him as the anti-Peter Parker, the opposite of Spider-Man’s alter-ego: Peter is a man of science; Moe, a man of faith. Peter is broke as hell, and Moe is doing pretty well. Peter has the worst luck, and Moe will be the first to tell you that he has lived a blessed life.
Both, though, get bit by a creature that changes their lives forever.
Moe, a young marine biologist, finds out he has cancer; shortly thereafter, a blue-ringed octopus at the aquarium gives him a sting, and disappears. Science tells him he should be dead, both from that bite and the cancer, but he instead finds himself getting stronger and developing superhuman powers.
“My cancer wasn’t a mistake,” he says. “And neither was that bite.” Indeed, he believes both were challenges and gifts from God.
Moe is based on several people, but his core came from those who have found themselves with cancer and, somehow, not only found a way to endure that darkness, but become a light for those around them. I see those people in the world and they are the closest thing to divine awe I have experienced; he is a symbol of that.
He was also the last addition to the team.
I had Ashley, Axis, and Das as a trio for a long time, but it felt like something (or someone) was missing. They made a formidable pity party, and I needed someone who could break through those heavy clouds. Or, better yet, could be their silver lining.
When I tell the quick story of The Weirdos at events — “he’s an alcoholic, she’s depressed, he has cancer, he has anger issues; they all end up at rehab facility called Lake Mary and form a team called The Weirdos” — I see moments of recognition in every person’s eyes, depending on the character I’m pointing at.
At a convention, a young woman asked me how a person with cancer would benefit from this rehabilitation.
When my mom went through cancer, I got my answer.
Having cancer is lonely.
It’s a thing that we don’t talk about for so many reasons, but, I think, mostly because we don’t know how. We don’t know whether to talk exclusively about it, or act like it’s not happening, or what the right balance is, if there is a right balance at all.
So we often fail at comfort. It’s something I hear from people who have had cancer again and again.
Like the other problems on that list, though, I think the answer is connection through honesty.
When everyone else is sharing their story, Moe shares his, and his story becomes a part of everybody else’s. He isn’t alone. He has God, and he has his family, but now, just as importantly, he has a group of people going through it, just like he is, who aren’t afraid of talking about the things that make them afraid.
Or angry. Or sad.
Things that we sometimes don’t let on to other humans because we don’t want to burden them, because we want them to like us, because we want them to think that we’re okay.
The Weirdos are about not being okay. But talking about it, and maybe finding okay somewhere on the other side.
You just gotta have faith.
The Den 