Or Mint? No thanks, I've got gum.

There once was a time when I never talked about comic books. I kept quiet, not so much because I didn't have anyone to talk to, but it was my dirty little secret. How would girls react to me reading what most would consider to be childhood stories? Sure, I went into their bedrooms when chance allowed me to sneak upstairs. I saw numerous teddy bears, some of which I purchased for them; but wasn't I supposed to? When a girlfriend (or rather "The" girlfriend) came over, my long boxes sat at the foot of my bed with sheets draped over them in a simple attempt at disguise, and an alarm clock placed on top to finish the look. My secret was safe.

I wonder now what would have happened if I hadn't hidden them. Would more holiday and birthday gifts be the comic books I so desired?

In my twenties, my collection expanded. I had 15 long boxes stacked in rows. This time I had sheets layered between the boxes like furniture covered during winter time in a summer home. This room, my bedroom was my haven and when I remember all those comic books stacked there, hidden under sheets, I never thought the Star Wars cookie jars prominently displayed on top were anything other than cool.

As an adult I have openly discussed my addiction. I write journals about it here on the registry. I blog on "A Shot of Comics", and I discuss it with those people I work with, to their chagrin. I use Instagram to show off my collection and have recently joined a few Facebook pages where I can freely discuss my passion.

At work I have numerous regulars that come in and will occasionally discuss how they had comic books as a kid, over fifty-sixty years ago. "If only they weren't thrown away...", they would declare.

Then there are a few that are my age and want to get rid of their collection, with a one percent hope that the books they bought during the early nineties will finally pay a few mortgage payments after purchasing a brand new car. It's even more interesting when they talk as if they know exactly what they are talking about and can give every reason why their "very good" copy should have no problem selling.

I inwardly cringe when I hear "very good" when chatting with these people. My New Mutants 15 is very good. It's not worth anything. Well, except to me that is. I also love it when I try to explain to these same people that it's near mint that most other collectors strive for, and I'm inevitably corrected that I just don't understand. "The books are in VERY good condition," they would say. I politely nod and wish them luck. Now if they only had an Amazing Fantasy #15 in very good condition, then I might agree with them.

Thanks for Reading

Tnerb

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