My father spent his entire early career as an illustrator for

The words of Dean Kamen — “My father spent his entire early career as an illustrator for comic books: EC Comics like Tales from the Crypt and Creepshow, then moving on to such magazines as Mad and Weird Science.” — are not merely a recollection of family history, but a tribute to the hidden roots of creativity. In these words lies the ancient truth that the lives of the parents are often the soil from which the destiny of the children grows. For Kamen, known for his inventions and vision, the story of his father reveals the inheritance of imagination, the passing down of courage to shape worlds that did not yet exist.

To be an illustrator for comic books in those days was not the work of luxury or acclaim. It was often a path of long hours, uncertain wages, and little recognition. Yet it was noble work, for it gave voice to the imagination, it carved stories into image, it transported readers beyond the borders of their daily lives. Tales from the Crypt, Creepshow, and Weird Science may have been pulp to some, but to others they were doorways into wonder and fear, into questions of morality and possibility. Kamen’s father lived as one who labored in the fields of creativity, sowing seeds that would later sprout in his son’s restless mind.

The mention of Mad magazine carries its own legacy. Here was not just satire, but a mirror held up to society’s absurdities, a challenge to authority, a way of teaching generations to question and to laugh. To move on from horror and science fiction into satire and critique is itself a reflection of the artist’s journey: always changing, always adapting, always daring to explore new forms of expression. This resilience of spirit — the willingness to move from one creative frontier to another — is the very essence of invention, the flame of imagination that Dean himself would carry into the world of technology.

History gives us a parallel in the family of Leonardo da Vinci. His father was not a great inventor, but a notary — a man trained to record words with precision and clarity. From that discipline, Leonardo inherited the habits of order, patience, and detail, which he wove into his art and machines. Just so, Kamen inherited not the exact craft of illustration, but the deeper courage to imagine, to risk, to make visible what others could not yet see. The inheritance was not of profession but of spirit.

What Dean Kamen recalls, then, is not only biography but lesson: our lives are built upon the unseen labors of those before us. His father’s long hours of sketching monsters, astronauts, and satirical caricatures planted in the son a reverence for the power of imagination. The tools were different — pen and ink for the father, circuits and engines for the son — but the essence was the same: to dream boldly, to give form to the invisible, and to share it with the world.

The lesson is clear: honor the roots of your own story. Whether your parents or ancestors labored in fields, built houses, stitched garments, or illustrated comics, their devotion laid the foundation for your possibilities. Do not scorn their work because it seems small; recognize the greatness hidden in their perseverance, their creativity, their survival. From their strength, your strength was born.

Practical wisdom follows. Reflect on the lives that came before you. Ask yourself: what qualities did they pass on to me, not through their words, but through the example of their work? Perhaps it is resilience, perhaps it is imagination, perhaps it is the courage to endure. Whatever it is, carry it forward, and let their unseen legacy shine in your life. And when your own path shifts, as Kamen’s father did when moving on from one creative form to another, embrace change with courage, for it may be the very step that enriches generations to come.

Thus, Kamen’s words endure as a testament: we are the heirs of those who dared to imagine. His father drew worlds of fantasy and satire; the son built machines of healing and innovation. Both, in their own way, gave humanity the gift of wonder. Let this remind you: your strength is not only your own — it is the continuation of a story begun long before you, and one that you must now carry forward for those yet to come.