I’ve been thinking a lot about drawing lately. I used to do it a lot. You can see some of my drawings here in comic form. Granted back then in early adolescence the only computer my family had was some 286/386 CGA or EGA thing. It was basically useless except for word processing, so I had to amuse myself with other pursuits. Drawing was what I did to kill time, to relax, to express myself, and I was actually not bad at it. I was always surprised when people thought I drew things pretty well.
I guess my parents started me on that path and always encouraged me. I remember sitting through a church service one time and my mother drew some people on the church bulletin, the handout where they list the order of the services and what hymns will be sung. I remember sitting there leaned over her lap (and this is when she was much taller than me sitting) and watching as she drew a boy on the cover of the bulletin. I thought it was silly that his pants seem so high-water and that he had a large belt buckle. I basically thought my mom drew boring things. I always went for aliens (my E.T. phase) and mad scientists.