-Storytelling connects things.

It's kind of like, "Well, I'm here.

I don't really know why.

I don't know how I got here, I don't know where I'm going from here.

Although, I do know I'm going to take the One down to 72nd Street after this."

But in general, you know, it's a mystery.

♪♪ ♪♪ -How would you describe your childhood growing up in a small apartment in Flatbush?

-My parents were... a lot older than most other people's parents, and I think that explains a lot of my childhood.

I was an only child, they had me in their mid-40s, and overprotective is a sort of mild way of putting it.

I think they were terrified that something was going to happen to me.

Like, as in being killed or something, or getting sick and dying.

They had had another baby before me that died.

And I think, as I was growing up, I, of course, was not aware that they had been through this sort of trauma.

So, there was that.

There was also... My parents were both children of immigrants, and they were not, by any means, assimilated Americans.

Their parents didn't speak English.

Their parents spoke Yiddish.

A lot of my relatives spoke Yiddish.

My parents didn't know a lot of things that other parents of my friends knew.

It was kind of strange.

They saved soap slivers in a washcloth so that you didn't waste.

Um... It was frugal.

It was very constricted.

It was filled with a lot of fear -- fear of illness, fear of other people, other children, you know, had impetigo, they spoke with an accent.

You know, I had a friend in the building who... [ New York accent ] "Roz, you wanna go to the store with me?"

[ Normal voice ] You know, and my mother... My parents were in the school system.

My father was a teacher in high school, my mother was an assistant principal at a public school, and if you spoke with an accent and you tried to get a teaching license in the '30s, you would not be able to get a license.

So, speaking correct English was very important.

So... -There's a strip of yours where you say, "I'm Harriet the Spy, Wednesday Addams, Eloise, Carmen Miranda, among others."

Who were you as a child?

What kind of a child were you?

-I was anxious.

I was a hypochondriac.

Uh, I... ...wasn't sure about other children.

I loved to draw.

I had a weird sense of humor.

I was very angry... and depressed, and uh... I was waiting to get out.

I was waiting to grow up.

I couldn't wait.

-Why were you angry?

-I couldn't stand my parents.

A terrible thing to say, but true.

You know, my mother was super strict, super strict, very rigid, and my father was a sweet man who just could not stand up to her.

So, you know... I was just waiting to grow up and get out.

-Can you tell me about the way fear came into your life and continues to play a part in it?

-My father was the most anxious person I have ever known.

He was -- the same way somebody might be a chain smoker, he was a chain anxiety-er.

Like, the minute one anxiety would be solved, he'd be on to the next one.

It was like opening up a bottle of seltzer.

It was like, suddenly, it would be like, "Be careful!"

And you'd go, "What?

What am I doing?"

"He knew somebody who the seltzer, you know, cap... flew off and flew right into his eye and blinded him."

So, you know, everything... could and probably would end in being blinded, or killed, or maimed in some horrible way.

So, yeah, it was just a lot of fear.

-And it sounds also like you adopted these fears yourself.

They couldn't help but sink into your pores.

-Oh, yeah.

I mean, it was, uh... I was... terrified of most things, you know, growing up, terrified of other kids, terrified of... just calamity, you know, happening at every turn.

You know, I was very, uh... ...aware of sensations in my body.

Like...and that is something that, sadly, has, you know, come with me into adulthood of, like, I feel the blood in my hands.

Like, I can feel the blood in my hands right now.

And uh... for a while, I went through a phase of, like, that freaking me out.

-And what about phobias?

Did you have phobias?

Did they?

-Tons.

Tons, tons.

I was afraid of a million illnesses, some of which I learned about from children's books, you know, like appendicitis from "Madeline."

"Death, be not proud," brain tumor.

There was a... Somehow, I learned that, like... about mastoiditis, which was something in your ear that could get, like, an infection or something.

I would feel my permanent teeth and they would feel wiggly, and I would be afraid that they were going to fall out.

I was afraid of going blind.

I was afraid of going deaf.

You know, just, like, this kind of nonsense.

-Your mother wouldn't let you read comics.

So, how did you come to the world of cartoons?

-Ah, I had cousins.

[ Chuckles ] I had older cousins, and I had -- There was a girl in the building who... the same one who was, you know, "You wanna go to the store with me?"

She read a ton of, you know, Archie and Veronica.

I read a lot of those.

"Betty and Veronica," Archie, Jughead.

And my cousin introduced me to MAD Magazine when I was about 11, and... Loved, loved, loved.

I loved things that made me laugh.

I mean, that was just, like... to read something... that made you laugh was like a complete miracle.

Like, it's just this kind of unbidden automatic response of, like, [chuckles], you know?

And MAD Magazine was one of those things that did it for me, you know?

-So, what then brought you to drawing cartoons?

Something about it had to have felt very, you know, you magnetized to this.

-Oh, I loved... I mean, I drew from the time... I can't remember when I didn't draw.

You know, from the time I was 3, and maybe, you know, probably picked up a crayon before that, but I remember drawing when I was 3 or 4.

And I liked things that made me laugh.

And... I also liked with cartoons how you didn't have to choose between drawing and writing.

I liked to write also, but when I wrote without the drawings, it felt sort of lopsided.

And when I drew without the words, it also felt lopsided.

And cartoons are one of these strange forms where you get to combine them.

And it's also a very flexible form where... I feel like you can decide how you want to do it.

If you are the kind of... if it feels best for you to be very, very, very verbal and have just the most rudimentary drawings, then go with that.

If you are a mostly visual cartoonist, then go with that.

I mean, I think that's why sometimes, like, "learn to draw cartoon" schools kind of... like, I don't understand them because for me, I feel like what's so interesting is discovering yourself, what feels right for you.

And what feels right for me isn't going to be right for somebody else.

So, I started to feel like "I think this might be the direction I'm heading" when I was around 12.

-They are incredibly funny, and yet, they're also pretty tender.

And they can be powerful because they're poignant, and they tap into a lot of emotions, and a lot of those scenes are direct hits from your life.

-Yeah, yeah, they're somewhat autobiographical, but not all, you know, uh... Sometimes, I feel more autobiographical than others, and sometimes, there's, like, something that comes right from life, that's so funny I have to draw it up.

I mean, that is a gift that happens every once in a while.

I mean, I remember when one of my kids was around 15 or 16, they were doing their homework in the living room.

And I wanted to just see if they were paying attention.

So, I came into the living room.

They were listening to some music on the boombox, and it was some kind of hip hop thing, and I just did this kind of mom dance, you know those kind of, like, horrible, like, there's a lot of, like, awkward sort of movements, and uh... And they looked up and said, "Mom, stop, you're hurting me."

And it cracked me up so much I actually used it in a cartoon which sold.

-Charles Addams was an influencer.

-Oh, my love.

-Tell me about -- tell me.

-Well, a lot of reasons.

Back when I was a kid, there was something called, like, sick jokes, and they appealed to me a lot.

There was something sort of jolly and yet transgressive about them.

Kind of, uh... I think some people would say, "Well, this is really kind of hostile.

You know, it's really not nice that that man is asking his wife to, like, back up off the cliff because she's going to fall and get hurt."

You know that one where, like, he's taking a picture of her, she's like, at the edge of the cliff, and he just tells her to just back up a little bit more.

Or the one where Uncle Fester is in the car and he's waving the truck driver to pass him on the road, and of course, the truck is going to go right off, you know, the edge of the cliff.

There was something hilarious and hostile that I really responded to.

One of the more famous Charles Addams cartoons, and also one of my favorites is... It actually has a title, called "Boiling Oil," and it's the one where the entire Addams Family is on the top of their mansion, and they have this cauldron of boiling oil.

And at the bottom there are all these sincere sort of carolers kind of [imitates caroling], and they're like... ...gonna dump this cauldron of boiling oil on them.

I just love that.

And also, the other thing about Charles Addams, when I discovered him, I was about 8 or 9, was that his cartoons had children in them.

You know, Wednesday and Pugsley.

They didn't have names when they appeared in the New Yorker.

They only got names for the TV show.

But most New Yorker cartoons didn't have children.

And these were very unusual children.

-So, do you remember when you discovered Charles Addams?

-Yeah, I do.

I was about 8 or 9.

And my parents, they... in the summer, you know, we were living in Brooklyn, and in the summer, my parents and a whole bunch of Brooklyn school teacher -- they called it their contingent, and they would live either on the Cornell campus in graduate student housing where it was cheap -- because these were teachers mostly, they didn't have a lot of money -- or in some nearby area and rent an apartment for July and August, and they would go to Cornell.

That was the center of their activity.

There were always activities in the summer, there were concerts, there were lectures.

And when my parents would do these activities, they would hang with their friends, or go to these lectures, they would park me in the browsing library, in the student center.

And in this browsing library, there was one section that was all cartoon books, and they had a whole ton of Charles Addams books.

They had "Black Maria," "Monster Rally," "Addams and Evil," "The Groaning Board," "Drawn and Quartered."

And I could look at these books... until doomsday.

They just killed me.

I just adored.

So, you know, I was one of those many people, apparently, my age, who found Charles Addams as a kid, and you know, that was it.

-Do you think there was anything about your parents that was a good influence on you?

-Yes.

My parents believed that you should find what you love to do and that your job wasn't just a way to make money.

That it should resonate with you, that it should have a meaning.

And I think that they knew on some level that I was probably going to be an artist, but I think that they thought I would probably be an art teacher, which is a very reasonable assumption on their part, you know, because to say I want to be a cartoonist... ...is a little ridiculous.

-Are you obsessed with your past?

And if so, why?

Why does it continue to have this grip over you?

-I draw what I know.

I remember doing a... I agreed to illustrate a children's book once that took place mostly in the woods.

And when I hit my first, like, two-page spread and I had to draw, like, these animals that were very cute, but I had to draw them in the woods, and it was like, "Alright, what's in the woods?

Alright, there's trees.

Alright, what's on the floor?

Alright, twigs?

There's, like, maybe leaves, pine needles.

There's some rocks.

More twigs?"

Like, I couldn't quite, you know, whereas, when I'm drawing an interior, like an apartment interior... I could draw, like... ...a billion kinds of lamps, a billion c-- I have, like, an image bank of everything that's in a house or in an apartment, but like... You know, woods?

[ Mumbles ] I don't know!

You know?

Pine cone?

Then, the pine cone sits there and it looks stupid, you know?

-What was it like for you, Roz, when you moved to Ridgefield, which is a pretty leafy place?

[ Laughter ] -Yeah.

Very leafy, very "ye olde."

When I moved to the suburbs of Connecticut, it was definitely like the fish-out-of-water genre.

For one thing, I didn't know how to drive, which was really bad, but I had insisted that there was no way I was gonna live in a place where I couldn't walk to town.

So, we live in town, which is nice because I can, you know, walk into town to, you know, get a quart of milk, or go to the library, or just to mental health walk where I can see stores.

I don't want to see trees, I don't care.

I like looking at shop windows, you know?

That's kind of fun.

Like somebody made a little arrangement.

Maybe I'll go in, maybe I'll touch a shirt, you know, I'll see the different color combinations.

Somebody designed this.

I like that!

I even like going to CVS, and like, seeing the sort of... the insanely hopeful and hilarious, like, these potions, it's like this... a spray... "calm yourself" spray, and you know, these vitamins that are going to make you smarter.

And you know, this kind of basically snake oil kind of stuff, but it cracks me up, it's funny.

It amuses me more than, like, just taking a nature walk, which, you know, makes me sad.

-How would you describe your beginnings at the New Yorker ?

Was that scary?

-No.

No, the New Yorker was... It was quiet.

It looked old.

It was a little bit grubby.

It looked like people were doing what they wanted to do, like writing.

The light fixtures were the same as my public school.

It wasn't loud or like, show-offy, like... "We're really modern, and you know, we really are up to date on..." You know, nobody looked like that.

They weren't aggressive-looking.

Everybody just looked sort of basically plain, like they were working on their things, and I liked that.

-How did you get to the New Yorker?

-When I got out of RISD, I... ...drew cartoons for myself.

I just -- I wanted to.

That's what I did before I went to RISD, and it's what I did, you know, I just, um... I stopped while I was at RISD for a while because it was just thought of as, like, a kind of very bad thing.

This was a long time ago.

This was a while ago when cartoons were very much like... [blows raspberry] ...because they weren't really art.

And you know, you were doing that incredibly embarrassing, I-can't-even-say-it thing of, like, trying to communicate with another person, which is very needy and pathetic, really.

Anyway, I got out of school and I was drawing the car-- I got out of RISD and I was drawing the cartoons for myself, but I thought, "Nobody is going to like these.

They're really weird.

They're not... They don't fit in anywhere.

I'm going to put together an illustration portfolio."

And I cooked up a style that was a sort of pastiche of the styles that I saw around -- a little Milton Glaser, mixed with a little bit of this, mixed with some, like, RISD arty-ness, which was a kind of, like... you draw, but you make it look sort of sloppy because, you know, also, like, drawing exactly meant, like... you know, "Your work looks kind of tight."

You know?

"Like, [scoffs] this drawing would be better if you kind of, like, scribbled it more, like, made it, like, really loose, and like, smeared it."

I know this is wobbling.

Anyway, um... So, there was that.

And I got a few jobs, and uh... Then, this is just one of those weird things that happens.

When I was about 23, I was coming home from taking my portfolio around, picking it up, illustration portfolio, and I found an issue of Christopher Street Magazine on the subway, on the D train, opposite me.

And I thought, "Should I pick it up or should I not pick it up?

Should I pick it up?

Should I not pick it up?"

And this voice in my head said, "If you pick it up, it will change your life."

So, I thought, okay, now, you know, when you're 23, this is not, you know... things happen like this.

So, I picked it up, and they used cartoons.

And it was kind of... Christopher Street was not -- It was not a gay porn magazine.

It was kind of like a gay literary magazine, but they used cartoons!

So, I called them up and he said to come by, and I was still living in my parents' house, apartment, at this time, and I met him, and they started buying cartoons from me for 10 bucks a piece, which, in 1978 -- or '77, actually -- was still crap pay, but I was selling cartoons.

And I thought, "This is interesting.

I'm going to keep doing this, and you know, to hell with the illustration, which I hate, anyway."

And I started taking my cartoons around and I got work.

National Lampoon, and also the Village Voice.

I started selling to the Village Voice.

And then, I thought, "Well, I might as well try the New Yorker."

My parents subscribed.

I knew they used cartoons.

I was sure they weren't going to take anything, so I wasn't nervous, you know?

So, I put everything in an envelope.

I had like 60 cartoons, I didn't know.

And instead of the rejection note, there was a note from Lee Lorenz, who was the cartoon -- the art editor, actually.

He did everything.

He did the cartoons, he did the spots, he did the covers.

This was in April of 1978.

And there was a note.

It just said, "Come see me.

Lee."

And I still remember because it was this loopy handwriting.

So, I got buzzed in and... they pulled out a cartoon.

They said, "We're going to buy this cartoon.

And I you to keep coming back every week."

So, that was it.

And um... That's essentially what I've been doing since I was 23.

Except I don't go in in person now.

I send it electronically.

But I still submit every week, yeah.

-I'm wondering what the culture was like there for women.

Did you feel like you fit in?

Was there a sense of camaraderie for you?

Had you found your people?

-I've never felt like I fit in anywhere.

Uh... As a woman, I felt like I had so many peculiar things about me.

I was younger by 10 years than the next youngest person there.

I was generally the only girl there.

And my stuff was just so weird compared to what most of these people were doing.

So, there were a lot of problems, you might say.

Well, problems with, like, the older guys, like, looking at me as an outsider, not just -- being female was almost the least of it.

-You're quoted as saying that your cartoons are not autobiographical, "but my life is always reflected in them," which is interesting considering how much you don't really like to talk about yourself.

You tell us, actually, so much about your life through your art.

-Yeah.

I think it does go back to you draw what you know.

Some cartoons come from... The cartoon universe.

You know?

There's like the "end of the world" guys and desk jokes.

I just sold a desk joke this week, and... There's all these different genres.

"Tunnel of love" jokes.

Oh, I don't know, there's several dozen cartoon genres.

And then, there's cartoons that come more directly from life.

-Many of the cartoons draw from a range of images and language to create a whole world.

How would you finish this sentence?

"I draw a world where..." -I draw a world where... ...there's people living in it and they sometimes say funny or ridiculous things... and uh... wear sort of funny things... and things have a certain kind of look.

And it's not like an Architectural Digest world, like a lamp, a coffee table.

It'll have, like, stuff on it.

You know, I feel like there are so many cartoonists that have worlds.

Charles Saxton drew a certain world of upper-middle-class white America.

Helen Hokinson certainly had a world of her club ladies.

And of course, George Price had his world, and George Booth, and Ed Koren, and Mary Petty, and... I think those are the cartoons that I love, you know, where... the cartoons that you see, they're like snapshots from a world that this person has created.

It's not just like some generic, you know, goggle-eyed people with, like... this, like, generic kind of "funny gag."

You know, "People are in a hurry.

They don't want, like, [mumbles] you know, they just want kind of a fast gag line and like, [mumbles]."

You know, and fine, that's great, but it doesn't... I'm not interested.

What does interest me is, uh... ...are the cartoonists who create a world.

And the gags come out of that world.

-As an only child, watching your parents grow old had to have been pretty tough for you, in spite of how difficult they were as parents, it's still really hard to watch.

What did it teach you about aging?

-Oh, everything.

I mean, how hard it is.

How, uh... ...how awful in many ways.

You know, once you get past that point of, um... you know, Centrum Silver aging, you know, the commercial side of, like, you know, old people sort of squabbling and being their, like, cranky, old person self, when you get dependent, when everything starts to just fall apart.

And uh... And also, there's no... you're kind of on your own.

I think that's one thing that I learned, especially being an only child.

You know, I did not have brothers and sisters to turn to.

And um... It just sort of sucked.

It was horrible.

And I know that speaks a lot to my own, you know, probably lack of compassion and selfishness.

I'm aware of that.

In many ways, I was relieved.

They were -- my father was 95.

He was ready to go.

He had broken his hip.

And uh... He told me.

He said... He said he was ready.

He felt like he had had a good life.

My mother was still alive at that point.

He was surrounded by, you know, my kids were there.

It was okay.

My mother lived until she was 97, and the last couple of years were not good.

I have grief about a lot of things, but not grief about the fact that they died.

You know?

-Where does the grief show up, then?

-The grief is that my mother and I couldn't have had a better relationship.

But that goes so far back.

You know, it probably goes back to before I was born.

So, that's just, um... You know, I think that's another thing that I learned, that, um... Oh, I learned a lot from, you know, when my parents were dying, I learned that death can be a very quick process, but it can also be really drawn out.

I also learned that, unlike the movies or in TV, where there are these, you know, deathbed sort of reconciliations, that doesn't always happen, you know?

So, you're kind of left with... "Well, that did not happen."

So... [ Hums "I don't know" ] You know?

-What do you want old age to look like for you?

-Oh.

I hope I'm still drawing and writing.

That's how I... You know, when I think about old-er age and getting into my even older age than I am now, I just really want to keep working.

I want to keep drawing, not just drawing cartoons, but doing art projects because that's what I do.

I mean, I have all kinds of art projects that I'm working on.

I do embroidery, you know, these funny canvases, and pysanky eggs, and hooking rugs, and I really want to do printmaking, and I'm book binding, and... and I love putting books together, and you know... Art projects.

That's what I want to keep doing my whole life, is art projects.

-When you look at your life, what do you feel the overarching wisdom comes from for you?

Where do you feel that you've learned the most?

-Um... I think it's really important to figure out what you love.

To have something that... ...deeply, deeply engages you.

And uh, hopefully, it's something that can be there for your entire life, you know?

And that is something that I did get from my parents, the knowing from a very... you know, that it was important to... not just, you know... ...do whatever, but to have a passion.

I mean, for my father, it was languages.

He loved foreign languages.

I mean, he taught, but even after he retired, he was still deeply involved with all of that and belonged to a French group, and you know, a French poetry group, and a French playwriting group.

With my mother, it was music, and also teaching.

You know, so, they had their things that they loved.

-With everything that you learned from your parents, what was most important for you to give to your children?

-Uh... I think finding out what you love to do and pursuing that, and not necessarily for money, although, you know, if that's what you wanted to do, then, that's great, too, but that... ...to sort of go with the flow in that way.

It was like, if you love to sing, then... you should do that because the more you sing, the better you're going to get at it.

So, I did feel for my kids that it was very important to find out what they loved, to find out what, you know, what gave them pleasure to do.

You know?

-When you had your own children, what did you want to make sure you did for them that hasn't been done for you?

-Oh.

Like, everything.

I think I wanted to make sure... That, when I had my own kids, that... ...I would figure out a way to not make them hate me, to not, um... ... it up so badly that, by the time they were like, 12, I didn't trust them, you know, they didn't trust me anymore.

I just didn't want to ... it up.

I wanted... My mother said to me many a time, you know, when I was upset about something, "I'm not your friend, I'm your mother."

And I deeply felt that there was a way of being a parent and also being a friend.

And I just wanted... I knew that, at some point, they were going to be grown-ups, and I didn't want to have the same relationship with, you know, my kids as I had with my parents, or I didn't want them to have the same relationship with me as I felt with my parents.

-You use your cartoons to tell life stories.

How important is it, do you think, to have storytelling about lives?

-I think storytelling is extremely important.

I think storytelling is how we make sense of things and how sometimes, you know, you can rationalize things, you know, sometimes for better or for worse.

Storytelling connects things, and uh... ...and helps you connect with other people, I think It's kind of like, "Well, I'm here.

I don't really know why.

I don't know how I got here, I don't know where I'm going from here.

Although, I do know I'm going to take the One down to 72nd Street after this."

But in general, you know, it's a mystery.

It's a mystery.

And um... Sometimes, things are funny, and sometimes, things are very, you know, sad or frustrating, and sometimes, they're just stupid and boring.

And uh... You know, this is what I think, and what do you think?

You know?

What do you think about?

So, um...and also with storytelling, some of it is craft and shaping.

It's like, you know, nobody wants to listen to somebody, like, tell a story, and it's like, "And then, I walked down the stairs, and then, there was a piece of paper on the stairs, and then, there was -- I saw this boy, da-da-da-da..." You know, you're kind of making a story.

So that you can, you know... It's empathy for the other person who's listening, I think, also.

That's, I mean... Good storytelling has a lot to do with empathy, I think.

Telling a story in a way that, you're thinking about the person listening a little bit, you know.

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