You threw away my comics?
When I lived in New Jersey one of my favorite past times was collecting comics. My store of choice was Collectors Comic Shop in the Bergen Mall. The owner of the store was the nicest man, who took the time to talk to my buddies and me about comics. His name was Frank.
Every so often when the ?crew? and me showed up sniffing around his shop, (a nice but tight shop in the dregs of Bergen Mall) He would always give us a heads up on comics he knew would be special.
My formula was very simple, buy several copies, read one Bag and tag the others. Bagging and tagging was always an OCD thing with me. I would ever take a book and squeeze out the air (yeah, I was a kid ok) then a strip or two of tape on the flap. Then into the box where they all sat straight and perfect. Not too tight, not too lose. Simple right. Well this is exactly what I did for years.
Well as time passed I got older and of course attention faded on the comic front. I joined the military and off I went. Of course I did not take my precious books with me.
I left them home in the loving arms of my folks. Years passed and then it hit me. My folks had moved several times already.... what happened to my comics"?
And so starts the saga of love and loss.
"Comics?" ... says my dad, in his perplexed tone that sent shivers up my spine ... I don't remember any comics.
You took those with you" he says as my stomach collapses in on itself. "Dad!" what would I do with all those comics?"
He shrugs as all dads do, when whatever you say gets written off.
Damn... and there we were... all gone. I made sure to put a little extra cammo paint on that day... Marines don't cry, right....
Sigh, that was well over 20 years ago.... but when I remember my comics it is still with me. Like a piece of shrapnel that the doc, just could not get out. PTSD over my own comics? damn.
So why am I here, why did I join? Well one night over dinner my wife and folks are talking about this and that, winding down for the evening (you know the drill) It?s at this time that my Dad seemed to have lost his mind.
"Are you still collecting comics?" he says.... Um... no Dad. (I kept it short, since that wound never healed, you know)
"Really? huh, that?s too bad" he says "You DO know, we still have all your comics right?
At that moment you probably would have gotten more out of me if you gave me an abacus. ?What?? I said.
"Yeah, let me go get them" he says. I sat there wondering what the hell was going on, when he starts bringing in box after box.
Yep, there they were. Yellowing, faded, boxes, but still holding strong. I dreaded looking inside. As I touched the lid slowly lifting it, I have expected seeing a rats nest made out of my precious comics.
Up and off the lid went. My heart raced and there they were, untouched inside. Just like I left em long ago. A long sigh?. PTSD fading?. Damn.
So. I'm here today catching up. Still trying to organize them before submitting them.
Thanks Dad.
