In the Beginning

The first comic book I can remember having was given to me when I was five. One rainy day it was sitting on the floor of my Grandfather's car waiting for me. I say Grandfather, but I mean my Pop-Pop. This man, this incredibly kind man gave me something that I never realized until much later on in life, when I was slightly over forty. It was not only a treasury sized edition of Star Wars that he gave me as a kid, it was the passion that I felt for this materialistic item of fancy artwork and words. 

I have purchased comic books many times before, but those were pulled from the three for a dollar rack. They mostly consisted of Richie Rich, Casper, and the occasional super hero comic book. This begs me to answer, what's the difference between the first comic books I ever owned and the first comic book of my collection? A collection consists of more than one, normally this needs a beginning, and this was my beginning.

My first comic books never had me going back for more month after month. They were purchased whenever I was close to a newsstand or comic book shop, including a shop that I frequented when I was ten. Then one day at my local 7-11, when I was twelve, a recent remodel moved the magazine rack to the front of the store. This marketing ploy stopped me from entering the candy aisle; it was also the first time I bought a comic book with my allowance. 

New Mutants #15 was in the front, its cover by Tom Mandrake drew me over. The inside, by Sal Buscema and Chris Claremont, is what made me want to pick up the next issue, I didn’t realize I had to wait a month and headed back to the store the next day where my understanding of the Marvel Universe expanded.  I left with five or six new titles. It was a long time later that I attributed issue #15 as the beginning of my dirty little secret and as I got older I hid them away, only confiding with my closest friends. 

My comics were with me as I started dating, when I moved out, and became a father. These bound papers traversed through my twenties, thirties and entered into my forties. I continued on with these four color books being part of my life's experiences. Comic books have been a part of me for as long as I can remember, especially that treasury sized edition of Star Wars that I hurried to pick up off the floor of the car while my feet dripped from the rain outside. I tossed it to the left, buckled my seatbelt, and picked it back up ready to begin an adventure. The comic book has long since been lost to the trials of life, but I transferred the love that I have always had for my Pop-Pop to the little stapled stories I buy every week, and every week I still go on an adventure. 

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Comfortable Around Comic Books

I was always able to find comfort in between the pages of a comic book. Some of the ones I read when I was younger were Richie Rich. I read the short stories in between over and over. Each issue had about three stories and a few one page mini’s. I his away from the world many times, sitting in my closet on top of toys and bags of clothing that were to be donated. The clothing was getting donated; the toys were mine to keep.

Nothing went wrong during this time of escape, nothing could. I was transported away from my problems and was kept amused by Dollar, Reginald, Cadbury (was that his name) and of Course Richie Rich, the poorest lil’ rich boy. These days I cannot remember the last time I picked up a Richie Rich. My escape is the Marvel universe with a few odd ball comics also taken form in my collection. There wasn't a day I couldn’t live without A Dark Horse Star Wars book.

Marvel has been keeping my business because they are telling stories I want to hear. Some might stray from what I am looking for. I do love the Ultimate Universe and the fact that anything can and does happen. The case I point was the recent Death of Spider-Man. This death is causing a new Number one and for some reason I can still accept that rather than what DC is doing. I wonder what would have happened if DC would have decided to have a universe like Marvel. Maybe even have Dream from the Sandman, correction Daniel create a brand new universe.

I am regressing. I type this as I have comic books next to me from a recent move, so many in fact that the light is cut off from shining in this corner. It is a temporary switch, one that will change again…although many months from now. I am comforted though that at any time I can just pull a book out and look at it and reread it….CGC withstanding. What do you do when you need to be comforted? Do you read them over, maybe catalog them, or place them on your bed and roll them over you like a blanket?

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