One quiet summer afternoon in June, I received a call to report to the office of a young executive at the Walt Disney Studios. I didn't consider this meeting anything unusual because I had just spent several months working on the film Wild Life. I was well aware that this unusual movie was now in meltdown, and it was probably time to move on.

The executive was the go-to guy for information on your next project, and I was actually looking forward to my next assignment. However, I was about to find out that this meeting would not be like the others. I could scarcely believe my ears when I was informed there was no next assignment. As a matter of fact, there was no work for me, period. I left the office with glazed eyes. How could I have been so dumb? June was the month of my 65th birthday. I should have seen this coming.

As luck would have it, our union business representative, Steve Hulett, was visiting the Walt Disney Studios that afternoon. Sensing my distress, Steve reminded me of something that had totally slipped my mind. I immediately saw myself as being unemployed, and things looked pretty hopeless. Steve reminded me that I wasn't exactly unemployed—I was retired. And being retired is not necessarily a bad thing. I suppose Steve was probably correct in evaluating my situation. With the upcoming layoffs, I was already in a better position than the hundred or more people who would soon be losing their jobs.

For the next six weeks or so, I was difficult to live with. After getting up and going to work every morning all my life, I suddenly found myself sitting in my backyard with nothing to do. Clearly, retirement wasn't for me. I was miserable, and everybody around me knew it. Suddenly, my life changed when I received a telephone call from Scott Tilley at Disney Publishing. They were doing a series of books featuring the characters from Toy Story and Monsters, Inc. Would I be willing to take on some freelance work? The opportunity to return to work was a godsend. I eagerly accepted the assignment, and I've been grabbing jobs ever since. No matter how big or small, I'm ready to come on board.

Many people my age spend their declining years reminiscing about youthful accomplishments and recalling past glories. I've never wanted to take that attitude or to view my life in retrospect only. The future is what truly matters, and there's nothing more exciting to me than an upcoming assignment.

Since walking out of the Walt Disney Studios back door some eight years ago, I'm pleased to say that I've done development on two feature films, storyboarded a television series, and worked as production designer on a puppet show. In my spare time, I pen my own daily blog and write a monthly online column about animation history. I've declined offers to teach because I honestly think that I lack the skills necessary for being a good instructor. I do enjoy speaking with students on occasion, and sharing my experiences in the animation business can be a joy.

I remember being terrified of public speaking. Whenever this was necessary, I trembled in my boots backstage with my stomach doing flip-flops. I've become more at ease in the classroom, lecture hall, and on stage. It's as though I've been given something special to pass on. So, rather than focus on myself, I focus on the message.

THE ARTIST IN RETIREMENT
After leaving Disney, I continued to work on other animated assignments.

THE ANIMATION INSTRUCTOR
It's been fun sharing the things I've learned with young animation artists.

I'd be less than honest if I didn't say I miss my animated life. I miss the big feature films in the mainstream studios. I miss the magical yet strenuous process of seeing a story begin to gel. I miss watching a compelling narrative evolve from a few rough sketches. I miss the collaboration of talented people working together to create something special. I miss hearing the audience's laughter at a prerelease screening of a feature film. Finally, I miss going to work every day.

In a strange kind of way, I doubted this day would ever come. I had this naïve notion that once accepted into this very odd enterprise, I would be allowed to work until I dropped. Unlike insurance salesmen and bus drivers, an artist never looks forward to the day they can stop creating. Unlike most people in life, we actually love what we do.

I really shouldn't gripe, because I've had it better than most. I was fortunate to work with many of the creators of this crazy business before they shuffled off this mortal coil. I was lucky enough to be mentored by many of the greatest talents in the profession, and I managed to stick around through four successive Disney management teams while doing so.

After a score of feature films, short subjects, and television shows, this animation veteran continues to look for another assignment. I know there's something out there that I've not yet experienced, and I'm eager to get started. I believe all this as much as I believed I would one day walk through the gates of the Walt Disney Studios some 50 years ago. I had no doubts about any of this because, as goofy as it sounds, it seemed like my destiny.

That's my animated life. The dictionary defines animation as “to give life.” Throughout my Disney career, I've been engaged in “giving life” to a collection of silly, strange, and wonderful animated characters. It was a fair trade, of course. After all, they've given life to me.

YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS
Somebody mistakenly put my handprint on the wall with the real Disney Legends.