This is an issue that I had wanted to write about for quite some time now.

As a kid I grew up to love and appreciate comics. The idea that one man, or woman, could truly save the day became an appreciated idea that lasted with me for years. Back during this time I was proud to show off my comics and when I could I would take off to school and parade them around my classroom as if they were trophies waiting to be marveled upon. One of my most treasured to show off was Wolverine issue 50. The one with the die-cut cover of claws tearing through the front page was cooler than anything another child could ever possibly show off. The point of this was pride. Pride in the fact that I loved and enjoyed comics. Pride in the fact that when I had one I would show and tell everyone so much that many times they were taken by my teachers and held onto until the end of the day.

Now as an adult three to four years ago would have been around the time when I started to enjoy comics again. I had gone home on leave and waiting in this closet was all of these stories that had already been told and many astonishingly had been remembered. While I didn't buy anything at the time and actually had thought about how to sell off my comics I ran into a knowledgeable LCS owner. He pretty much smashed all of my dreams of making it big with money and showed how everything I was looking to sell he still had plenty of. While I had a key issue here and there I didn't have a Holy Grail of comics by any standard. It was at this point that I went home down and distraught that I found my old reliable comic that had originally brought me in.

From that point I went back to America's Heroes in Killeen, TX and started in on buying a few here and a few there but under what I thought was the cover of darkness and mainly when the parking lot was empty. The big thing here was at the time I didn't think I fit the ideal description of a comic book reader. At the time I was a Combat Infantryman and was more or less the fit for an Alpha male persona. But one Wednesday (I had no idea this was new comic day) while shopping right before close of business a few other Soldiers came rushing in hoping they had made it before Earl had closed his doors. Each of them looked similar to me and one even asked what I was looking for. Just shrugged and said the ones with the nice cover. Best part was this other Soldier was an Infantryman just like me (It's a uniform insignia thing that sets us apart). After talking to him for awhile and going through past books we liked I started to come in more regularly and even started interacting with others. But still never really did any real collecting.

Then in 2011 I saw an ad for a comic convention going on in Austin, TX and with some subtle hints to my daughter about how cool it would be she asked me and her Mom if she could go. Initially my wife was quick on the draw with this one and said, NO. But after some coaxing and showing her how close it was to Halloween we were able to talk her into letting my "daughter" go as long as she behaved. It was at this Con that I saw why there is no type of comic book reader. From the kid's running around in there costumes, funny guy who had dressed up as an obese Batman (What I initially envisioned older comic readers), the normal guys out of costume, other Soldiers still in uniform, to the Lady who was dress up in four of the smallest patches of leaves as Poison Ivy, everyone there was happy and completely ignoring what I had originally thought was the status norm. It was at this point I started becoming a little bit more comfortable with being considered a reader and even bought my first commissioned piece which introduced me to the CGC way of collecting.

Then finally the day I would go back to beaming with pride again. Later that December a box was mailed to the house. My wife who usually gets home earlier than I did picked up the box from the front door and once inside texted me that I had mail. After I get home I open up the box and lo and behold there it was. My first owned CGC. An Uncanny X-Force 1, Signature Series sketching of Wolverine done by one of my favorite artists when I was a child, Mark Texiera. My wife looked at me with this confused look that could only be described as, huh... She saw this smile I had as I unwrapped that light plastic wrap around my new idol and almost saw this hard charging husband of hers reform back to childhood running around the room with his trophy in hand. From that point on I have beamed with pride and never again used my daughter's name in Comic Con vain. I'm proud that I'm a collector and not just a reader. I'm proud when I get each set of comics I have sent in and during the elongated waiting times. But most of all I'm proud that I now have something to pass onto my kids other than high blood pressure and stress in the form of art that I can actually appreciate.

Did anyone else have a similar start? Or ever believe the four guys on the comic show after the Walking Dead on AMC were the prototypical type?

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