For my first regular blog post of 2026, I wanted to do something a little different than I have in the past. The Sector M blog has seen a lot of increased traffic over the last year and some change, so I’ve wanted to write a post that has a kind of getting-to-know-you vibe to it. This is that post.

So, I present to you three stories about me to give you some insight into who I am on a personal level. To some degree, I try to do that with all my blogs, as I write about things that I like and love, but this one isn’t all about pop-culture, games, or geeky stuff. The first story definitely is, but I think you’ll see why I included it here. With that in mind, let’s dive in, shall we?

On Meeting My Hero

To say that I love Transformers is a bit of an understatement. Do a search for it on this blog, and you’ll see what I mean. A big part of my love for the IP is, of course, Optimus Prime. We get so few characters like him in popular fiction. He’s a wise, selfless, courageous, and honorable leader along the same lines as Captain America and Superman. In short, a paragon, and while an alien robot that transforms into a semi might seem like a strange role model, Optimus was the one I wanted to be like as a kid. (Spoilers, I never grew out of that.)

Years ago, I had the chance to meet Peter Cullen, the voice of Optimus Prime, at BotCon. Because of the number of attendees, they had to limit the number of autographs he would sign to one hundred, and he was slated to sign for only an hour. There was a lottery to determine who would be in line to get an autograph. Luck was not on my side that day, as I didn’t get an invite. However, my friend Tommy did get in, attributing this to his natural “smuggler’s luck.” (He’s also a huge Star Wars fan.) As he was more of a Decepticon-aligned fan, with Soundwave being a particular favorite, he let me have his pass. I will be forever in Tommy’s debt for giving me this opportunity.

And so, I found myself in line, waiting to see Peter Cullen, a moment I had anticipated most of my childhood and all of adulthood. Since the session was only sixty minutes and there were one hundred people, there wouldn’t be much time per person. I could see him up ahead, graciously signing Optimus-themed toys, comics, and so forth. I knew that I would only have a few seconds with him. I was not the only one with the dream of meeting him, and I didn’t want to be the one who might gum up the line and cause other people to have their moment minimized or lessened.

When the moment came, I walked up and handed him a copy of IDW’s For all Mankind, which has a super-cool cover featuring Optimus. He asked my name, and as he was signing, I said something along these lines:

“When I was a kid, Optimus was the example to me of what it meant to be a good person. Now that I’m a parent, a love of the character you brought to life is something we share as father and son.”

To my surprise, he stopped writing, and set down his Sharpie, looking me in the eyes.

“Really?”

“Really,” I said. I was also really trying not to burst into tears in front of him.

He shook my hand and said, “Thank you, Matt. Thank you for sharing that with me. It means a lot to hear that.”

The thing is, his regular speaking voice does not sound like Prime. He tends to lower his voice and drag his vowels to find the character, but I could still hear it in his voice in that moment. He finished signing my book, and then I had to leave to give the next person in line their moment. 

Of course, I wanted to tell him what the character meant to me, even as an adult, of how Optimus’s death in Transformers: The Movie wrecked me and left lingering emotional scars, or speak to what an inspiration his work has meant to me pretty much my whole life. I famously don’t like the Michael Bay Transformers movies, but having him back to play Optimus was/is a gift. I’ll never deny that.

I wasn’t able to do any of that, unfortunately, but I was able to communicate to Peter Cullen in extreme shorthand how much I love the character he brought to life.

Later on, in one of the panels he attended, he told the crowd about how his late brother (whose vocal stylings had greatly influenced Optimus) had said to him on the day of his big audition that he should play this heroic truck as someone who “has the strength to be gentle.” I’ve never forgotten that.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever cross paths with Peter Cullen again, but I will always, always be grateful for the chance I had to meet my hero. So, Tommy, if our situation is ever reversed, and it’s Frank Welker who’s signing, consider the invitation yours without question.

The Greatest Compliment I’ve Ever Received

As a freelance writer, you often bounce around from assignment to assignment, rarely ever staying in one place for more than a few months at a time. It’s a great way to get experience in a number of different fields as well as meet a bunch of people.

Well, one of my clients a few years back was Michael’s, the crafting store. I worked at their corporate headquarters here in DFW as one of their copywriters for emails, digital marketing, and in-store signage.

The break room/kitchen area was a fair distance from the writer’s bullpen. Often we would go in groups since it was a bit of a trek, but sometimes I would go by myself just to stretch my legs or step away from my desk to figure out how to tackle the next objective. Near the breakroom, I noticed there was an older lady at one of the desks who would always smile when she saw me. Every time, without fail, a beaming, genuine smile awaited me if I stepped away to refill my water bottle or make up some cinnamon tea.

Working for a retail store chain, the holidays are an especially busy time, with big pushes for Black Friday, Christmas, etc. One day, during all that chaos, when the stress of the job was starting to take its toll, I went to the breakroom. This time, the lady motioned for me to come over. That’s when she said it:

“I’ve been trying to build up the courage to tell you this for weeks, but I wanted you to know that you look exactly like my brother. The way you walk, your voice, everything about you is just like him. I lost him five years ago, but when I look at you, just for a moment, it’s like I have him back.”

I was, of course, gobsmacked. For all the times I had seen her in passing, we had never really spoken outside of a passing “hello.” Now I knew the reason behind that bright smile every time I passed. I asked her if she wanted a hug, and she said yes. I gave her one gladly.

It just goes to show that we can sometimes affect each other in ways we don’t even realize, and not always for the worse. I left that job a little while later, and we never had the chance to speak again, but that is absolutely the best compliment I’ve ever been handed. It wasn’t for my writing, or anything I did, but simply for just being who I am. I’ll never forget it.

The Quest for Big League Chew

Okay, both of those stories had a teary kind of vibe. Let’s go for something a bit lighter now.

Years ago, when my oldest was around 10, we found ourselves at a local toy store in early December. Ostensibly, we were there on a fact-finding mission for Christmas. My oldest was never one for action figures or playsets, certainly not in the way that I had been when I was a kid.

So, we took a pass through the toy store, but ultimately we didn’t find anything that really struck a spark for him. He did, however, really want some Big League Chew. If you’re not familiar with this product, it’s bubble gum that’s shredded into strips to approximate chewing tobacco. Even the packaging looks like what actual chewing tobacco comes in. The “Big League” in the name comes from the general baseball theme of it. When I was a kiddo, there was a cartoony baseball pitcher on the mound, his cheeks swollen to look like he’s already chewing. Today, the main baseball player is more square jawed with just a faint hint of a stubbled, ’80s action hero, though the packaging now features a wide array of different players to match their expansive flavor selection. In essence, Big League Chew is to actual chewing tobacco what candy cigarettes are to real cigarettes.

So, the kiddo only wanted a pack of Big League Chew. I took one look at the lines, which were already about nine or ten deep at every register. Each cart was largely full, and I estimated that we were in for at least 45 minutes of standing in line, if not a full hour, all for a single packet of Big League Chew. I presented my argument to the kid like this: Let’s not wait in those long lines. Let’s put the Big League Chew back, and we’ll stop by the gas station on our way home and get you some.

He agreed, so we left the store empty handed. I went to the aforementioned gas station, a place I was sure I had seen Big League Chew in the past, but they didn’t have any on the shelves. No problem. We went to our pharmacy a little farther away, another place I was sure I had seen it sold before. No luck there, either. I’m not sure how many stores we went to in order to secure at least one packet of the gum. I think it was around five or six, and we struck out each time (to use a baseball metaphor).

It was almost as if invoking the ‘we can get it anywhere’ mentality meant that the universe was obligated to grant me my own personal version of the Mandela Effect. Suddenly, Big League Chew had ceased to exist in my timeline.

Finally, we admitted defeat and returned home, having failed in our quest. I did promise him that the next time we found Big League Chew (assuming it ever reemerged into existence), I would get him several packs of it to make up for this bewildering dearth of the stuff.

Eventually, I did find a place that had some and was able to make good on my promise. The epilogue to this story is that my oldest, without realizing it, had just signed up for a lifetime supply of Big League Chew. To this day, at every Christmas, he gets at least one packet in his stocking. Sometimes I will even disguise another gift like money or birthday cards in an empty packet of Big League Chew.

He has since admitted that he doesn’t even remember the original incident I described here, but be assured, gentle reader, that I will likely remember this particular misadventure longer than I will remember my own name.

Final Thoughts

There you have it, folks — three stories of me, Matt Carson. I appreciate you tuning in to the blog even when I’m not talking about strange headcanon or other fanboy-related topics. I really enjoyed writing this one. Sharing my experiences of things like this is a rarity on this blog, and I may do more of it in the future. I suppose only time will tell.

Thanks for reading!

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