Author: Topher

I've always enjoyed writing. I see this as an opportunity to share my love of movies, action figures, comics, music, and just about anything else. As much as I enjoy writing, I also enjoy interacting with other folks online. If any of my stories or articles spark an idea for discussion, let me know. I read every email and comment I get! So look around, make yourself at home, and above all, enjoy your visit to my virtual discussion page!

Bubbles Up

This summer, my wife and I ended up doing a few things I never would’ve predicted. It started with an unusual vacation. Folks who know me also know that many of my getaways have involved some kind of adventure sport. I’m not quite as ambitious as I used to be, but cut me some slack, I’m not 30 anymore. In fact, you could just about cut me in half and get a matching pair of 30s. I still hear the “Call of the Wild”, but these days I sometimes let it roll over to voicemail.

 

I’d never been on a cruise ship. Honestly, I never pictured myself wanting to be on one. But when my wife floated the idea, I figured it was worth trying at least once. We flew into Vancouver, spent a couple of days wandering around, and then boarded a ship with about 2,800 fellow travelers, headed up and back down Alaska’s Inside Passage.

One of the highlights was the narrow‑gauge rail into the Yukon, tracing the route of the 1890s Gold Rush — a strange and truly tragic slice of history. We also hiked in the Tongass National Forest to the edge of the Mendenhall Glacier.  The naturalist leading the hike was excellent, and we learned a lot that morning. But the afternoon ended up stealing the show.

We went on a whale‑watching tour out from the bay in Juneau. My expectations were… modest. I figured we’d be out on a boat for a couple of hours, see a tail splash somewhere way off in the distance, and head back to the ship in time for dinner. What we got was something I didn’t even know to hope for.

Whale watching – birds’ perspective

The captain and naturalist pointed out what to watch for. If we saw a cluster of seabirds circling, call it out — it meant small fish were being driven upward, trying to escape whales (only to get picked off by gulls instead.) Sucks being a small fish sometimes. But I digress.

What actually unfolded was a full‑on whale feeding frenzy. Some humpbacks fish cooperatively in groups of eight or ten, with each whale playing a specific role. A couple dive deep and stir up a storm of noise and bubbles to trap a school of fish. Others circle the area, forming a living fence that keeps the fish from escaping. Then, as the bubbles rise — carrying the fish with them — the whales surge straight up through the center, mouths wide. Suddenly you’ve got a whole lineup of whale faces breaking the surface at the same time.

Some hungry locals

It’s called bubble‑net feeding. It’s rare, and it’s complicated — a choreographed dance that takes coordination, communication, and trust. And we didn’t just see it once. We saw it over and over.

A new team weighs in

 

There were at least three (maybe more) active groups feeding in the same area. Four boats were watching, and the usual practice is to observe for about half an hour and then move along so the whales aren’t disturbed. But in this case, the activity was so intense that leaving would’ve caused more disruption than staying. We ended up there for close to an hour, watching bubble‑nets erupt on different sides of the boat, sometimes within a minute or two of each other.

Coming up for a bite to eat

The naturalist was recording video like her life depended on it. Later, the captain told us that guides often call something “rare” or “special,” but when they’re too busy taking their own photos to say it, that’s when you know you’ve seen something extraordinary.

Many cultures consider it polite to burp after a good meal.

We saw plenty of other wildlife — orcas, bald eagles, harbor seals. My wife even spotted a grizzly bear; she was looking the right direction and I wasn’t.

Here’s what it looks like with PROFESSIONAL recording equipment!

https://youtu.be/1spWswTq0JY?si=5po_ptuGDo6g2x9L

My takeaway: Don’t dismiss an opportunity before you know what it really is. I doubt I’ll turn into a cruise‑ship kind of guy, but I also won’t be so quick to rule something out.

You never know what you might miss.

 

—Toph

This Still Counts as Playing

I’ve been collecting action figures for many years. From Christmas in 1972 through my late 50s (HEY! I’m still in my 50s for a while—listen up!) I’ve loved these plastic warriors and adventurers. The imagination they spark is pure joy.

“Play is the work of childhood.” — Jean Piaget

I arrived a little too early for He‑Man and the Masters of the Universe. My sweet spot was the military—and quasi‑military—world of 1/6th‑scale GI Joe figures. By the late 70s I began to “outgrow” toys (more on that later), and my younger brothers took over the jungle expeditions and covert missions. But the imprint was made, and it waited dormant, like the great Cthulhu.

Between the late 70s and early 90s, GI Joe disappeared from U.S. shelves. He lived on elsewhere, though: Action Man in the UK, Combat Man in Japan, Geyperman in Spain, Falcon in South America. The uniform sometimes changed, but the spirit stayed the same.

In the early 1990s, 1/6th‑scale figures made a comeback. Hasbro wasn’t the only game in town anymore—Dragon, Formative International, 21st Century Toys, and BBI all added their own spin on the classic Joe. Even though Hasbro owned the name, “GI Joe” became a kind of generic trademark for the whole category. Seeing these guys return for the first time in fifteen years was the spark.

I reopened that little metaphorical can of worms and became a GI Joe collector again. I didn’t play with them the way I did at six—those days of lying on the floor with a Jeep full of guys taking small‑arms fire and crashing into the couch were over. But that doesn’t mean I stopped playing entirely.

The toys are still inspirational. Each one offers a chance for backstory—a headcanon of who they are and where they fit on the team scattered across my shelves. The adventures are still in there. If you listened at my door, you wouldn’t hear engines roaring or sergeants yelling for everyone to fall back. But you might hear me clicking away at the keyboard. Or you might see me at my desk with an action figure in pieces, being restrung, repainted, or customized.

My process has four steps. First, I imagine a character or situation. Sometimes it’s inspired by a movie, TV show, or book, but more often it’s my own idea. Second, I assemble the physical figure—mixing vintage items with newer products, modifying clothing and equipment however I like. I’m not bound by collector value or “mint in box” preservation. Third, I write the character’s story: who they are, what they do, and how they fit into the world. And finally, I create the visual. My photography skills are, to put it kindly, rudimentary, and my camera equipment is primitive. Anything more specialized than a blurry selfie tests the limits of my abilities. Luckily, technology steps in. A couple of AI image‑generation tools can take my written narrative and produce a surprisingly good representation. It usually takes a few rewrites and revisions, but that’s part of the fun.

 

 

A Classic Collection figure, and a Mobius model kit was the basis for my updated Mummy’s Tomb (a reboot of the 1970’s original)
But I create the REAL secret of the mummy’s tomb.

When I’m done, I have a short story, woven into a shared universe of my own creation.  It is then represented by a detailed image. They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

I think that’s true—give or take a few hundred words, anyway.

The pictures aren’t for sale, and the backstories aren’t written for any formal publication. They really aren’t even written for anybody else.  They’re simply my own little projects.

 

But who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll share my toys.

— Toph