When I was young, I set up my father’s record player in my bedroom, with his old drawing table, and I painted watercolors on any piece of paper that made the mistake of being in range while listening to Peter Paul and Mary, the soundtrack to 1776, the Kingston Trio, and occasionally some of his other stuff.

Tonight, I’m home alone, listening to Peter Paul and Mary and the Kingston Trio while drawing comics on a Wacom tablet with a surface about the size of the paper I used to paint.

It’s a good way to be.