The First Time I Encountered D&D Was in the Spring of 1974.

I was sitting beneath a tree on the playground reading the sequel to A Wrinkle in Time. My 6th grade classmate, Mike Fleming, presented me with a copy of Men and Magic and asked for my thoughts.

Mike's father was a gamer friend of Gary's. And on a side note, Roger Raupp was a fellow student in my class and participated in playground activities with a small group of us nerds.

Now, I'd like to say that in the 3-5 minutes I was given to appraise the book, I instantly understood what it was and took to it. But that's not what happened. In fact, I do not recall what I said.

It wasn't until 1976 that my mother and I moved kitty-corner to the school, and I met Rob Kuntz, who lived in the front lower apartment of the same house, which coincidentally was right next door to what is now Gary's last residence.

I met and became friends with Mary Gygax first.

Mary, a Jehovah's Witness, often came knocking, spreading the Word around Lake Geneva. We had recently moved there, so she was among the first individuals I encountered. I was only 9, but I enjoyed what became our fairly regular talks about religion standing in my foyer.

For the record, I'm an atheist and have been since my parents gave me the choice, so before 7 I did not believe in God. However, my mind remained uncertain about the existence of a spiritual realm. So Mary does not recollect that I was an atheist then, which makes sense. I had not yet learned to strongly represent it because I had not yet understood the social issues.

Nonetheless, ever since meeting Mary this way, I've been an advocate for holding door-to-door conversations about most any topic. Signage easily indicates the resident's preferences in these matters. And in today's siloed world, face-to-face conversation would promote greater civility, at minimum.


My first Gen Con was 1972.

We lived at 1003 Main St., across the street from the lake and library park where Gary's memorial is to be placed, so there was a lot of foot traffic in front of our house. Among those walkers I met a couple of 1920s flappers, one of whom danced for Al Capone before the feds raided his mansion on the lake. And I also met Edith Rogers, a short, kind, black-haired lady in her 60s, most recognizable at a distance by her long white London Fog overcoat.

I accompanied Edith on her walks, listening to her recount the town’s history and engaging in conversations on various topics, until she mentioned that I reminded her of a young man she wanted me to meet named Ernie Gygax. So she took me down to Horticultural Hall and introduced me to the Gygaxes at Gen Con 5.

As mentioned, I already knew Mary, so we had Edith as a mutual friend. And when she introduced us, Gary; Mary, holding an around 1-year-old Luke in her arms, and Ernie were standing in the stables area. We all chatted cordially for a bit until Gary had to run off, being so busy with the Con. But I'd gotten into the con for free, and I found someone to play Avalon Hill's Gettysburg with for the rest of the afternoon, which was a game I knew from playing with my dad.

I never really hit it off with Ernie because he was 4 years older and in junior high, which is a giant gap at that age. I did meet him again a year or two later.

1003 Main St. was a 3-story Victorian cut up into 4 apartments. Above us on the second floor, Hilton and Vicki Byrd sculpted brass for a living. I'd hang out in their studio watching them sculpt for hours. Eventually they hired Ernie to polish their finished works. According to Hilton, Gary felt Ernie needed to learn a work ethic.

At the time, creating games would not be thought of as work but something more likely done by lazy, childish people.

Gary's value in work should historically be noted given his monetization of what we now call the gaming industry.

Sadly, coping with an immense amount of pain, Edith put on several layers of coats and jumped off the bridge closest to the Riviera, drowning, far too soon after we met.

Gary Gygax, Communist:

The first time I ever heard of Gary Gygax was from my Uncle Lance, the water or electric meter reader in Lake Geneva. The meter at the Gygax home required entering the basement of the dwelling, and that's where Uncle Lance saw several bearded communists gathered around a large table plotting the revolution.

It was barely the 70s, if that, and the Cold War was still in full swing.

It wasn't until a later reading that he figured out these ardent Bolsheviks were actually grown men playing with miniature soldiers. However, by that time, the rumor about communists had spread to many of the townspeople, painting Gary in a strange light even prior to D&D.

The second time I ever heard of Gary was when, still working as a cobbler to make ends meet, he confiscated my mother's 32-eyelet boots for non-payment, which probably lasted 2-3 days before she paid and he returned them.

Gary Was a Consummate Gentleman:

Years later, while sitting in Gary's office, I mentioned his first run-in with my mother, which I found merely amusing; however, Gary was so immediately and earnestly apologetic about the matter that I regretted mentioning it. But, yes, he did remember meeting her. We were discussing having my mother do the art for The Forgotten Temple of Tharizdun, and it was the only occasion I knew of them previously meeting. But much more about that later.

You will be able to filter all mentions of Tharizdun using the labels on the right after articles detailing its construction have been added to this rough timeline.