I"m in the midst of sorting out boxes of comics and other miscellanea that I have accumulated over the past four decades or so, and I'm surprised by how much of the mass of material has sat boxed and unread for most of that time. I have found scores of boxes of comics and comics-related books that haven't been opened once in the fourteen years that we've lived at this house--and I've even found a couple of dozen boxes that were never opened during the time we lived at the Milstead Circle house, which means that they've been boxed away for 24 years, unread and untouched.
The record, though, might go to a few boxes of fanzines--mailings of SFPA and Myriad, issues of Mediascene and Future Retrospective--that haven't been opened since we lived in Savannah Oaks, the apartment complex on Franklin Road that served as our home from 1977 until 1979. That means that we're looking at books that haven't seen daylight for more than 3 decades!
There's a chance that one of the boxes was last opened when we lived at 621.5 Olive Street in Cedartown, in fact--and that would mean that it has sat boxed and unread since 1977 or earlier. Pretty amazing, huh?
Susan was worried that I was getting rid of stuff that I would regret not having, but the truth is, I haven't really had it (in the sense that I could lay hands on it and enjoy it and appreciate it) for decades. I had enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, but as I told Charles, maybe it's time to practice "catch and release."
One thing that I did find was my collection of Fantastic Four #s 1-100. This isn't my original collection--that was sold to Howard Rogofsky in 1970 to pay for Susan's engagement ring--but is instead the collection I acquired in 1982 for a total investment of $42. This was probably my fourth collection of those books, and each time I had sold it off and rebuilt the collection, I had made it my goal to reacquire those books for less than I had spent before. in 1982, I constructed a backwards trade--I found out what the guy with the FFs was looking for, I found someone who had that and asked what they would take in trade for that item, etc. It was either a five or a six-level trade, but I ended up putting $42 into the deal to to start the ball rolling and it ended with me owning a good reading-copy collection of those 100 books. Knowing I could never acquire a collection any cheaper, I never sold this one off. But now it has much less allure to me--I have read and reread all 100 books in my Omnibus and Masterworks editions, and I have no desire to unbag those original comics and read them now.
Collecting is like that--after a while, it's the art of acquiring that is the driving force behind collecting, not the items being collected. Now I'm ready to let some other folks enjoy the books that once brought joy to me, and I'm ready to enjoy the extra space that comes with unburdening myself with decades worth of comics and other items.
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Snow 'Nuff
Yesterday we had our first major snowfall in several years; it amounted to about four inches of snow here at the house. The snow was so perfect--light, powdery, fine-grained--that I made my first 21st century bowl of snow ice cream this morning. Couldn’t wait until after breakfast, because I didn’t want to chance the snow softening or turning mushy as the day warmed. The recipe may have been a bit different from my childhood--fat-free Smart Milk, splenda, and vanilla flavoring--but the taste and the memories were exactly the same.
My memories of my first bowl of snow ice cream are vivid but imprecise. I know we lived on Plymouth Road in Garden Lakes prior to Kimberly's birth, which dates it somewhere between 1959 and 1961. My guess would be the winter of 1960, which was cold and snowy. Regardless of when it was, I remember the event itself because it struck me as so amazing: ice cream was falling from the sky!I know now that it was only snowflakes that fell from the sky, but it seemed miraculous to me that Mom could take something that fell out of the sky, add a few things that we always had in our house (milk, sugar, and vanilla) and come up with ice cream unlike any that I had ever tasted until that time. And what made doubly miraculous was that, when we finished up that bowl, Mom was able to go outside, gather more snow, and make more ice cream!
There was something about that ice cream--its slight soupiness combined with a grain that made it creak against my teeth when I took my first bite--that made it a unique treat. I appreciated it even more because I knew even then that this wasn't something I could have whenever I wanted; it was a treat that could only exist when the weather was just right, and in Georgia that was quite rare indeed.
I've had snow ice cream maybe a half dozen to a dozen more times since that day--and every time, I still remember my childhood amazement as mother turned snow into ice cream before my very eyes!
Others make richer snow ice cream, adding condensed milk, eggs, or other extra ingredients. Perhaps it makes for creamier snow ice cream, but it's not the snow ice cream I grew up with.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Another TOTUS Appearance
Knowing better than to allow wily sixth-graders to lure him into discussions of political philosophy, mathematically complex "jobs-saved-or-created" calculations, or unbalanced health-care equations, the President made sure to stay on Teleprompter as he spoke to a group of middle-school students...Yes, the great orator made another superb appearance, and he brought the Prez along with him!..
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Three Score and Ten
How long is a life?
There's no set answer to that question, obviously. I'm convinced, though, that just as a person has a finite lifespan, so does a business. I've mentioned this to friends in the past; the best business is ultimately destined to die, as will the worst business. The difference is the duration between a business's inception and its demise.
Just before Christmas, someone who grew up near Dr. No's and was a regular customer during his high school years came back to visit. He moved to the West Coast almost two decades ago and had only been back once or twice to visit since then, and had not been able to drop by the store on those earlier visits. "It was so weird," he said. "I drove down Canton Road, and I realized that other than a few fast food restauarants that were still in the same place, every other business that I remembered from my childhood wasn't there any longer--except for the Ace Hardware store and Dr. No's."
Today I found out that the Ace Hardware store went out of business at the end of 2009, a little more than a week after that former customer remarked on its longevity.
Rich's. Treasure Island. Food Giant. Revco. Turtles. Gateway Books. Oz Records. Liberty News. The Paper Chase. Bruno's. Big K. Drug Emporium. Couch's Grocery. Book Trader. The Record Shop. Godfather's Pizza. Miller's. Wyatt's. Service Merchandise. Norwood Griffin. A&P. People's. Music Music Music. Esserman's. Harris Teeter. Laserdisc Enterprises. Parisian. Premiere Video. Reader's Den. Conn's Grocery. Gass TV and Electronics. Candler's Drugs. The EZ Shop. Petro's Pizza.
Just a few of the many businesses that I have frequented over the years that have thrived, declined, and failed. While a few (A&P, Bruno's Harris Teeter) are still successful elsewhere, none of them still exist in this area--and there are times when I think back fondly on each and every one of them and wonder what went wrong.
Are you old enough to remember when every major mall had a Hammond organ store (or something similar) that loudly played synthesized-rhythm tracks along to accompany syncopated arrangements of recent hits? Do any of those stores still exist today?
Remember when every major mall department store had a sizeable tech and entertainment department with televisions, VCRs, stereo systems, and the like?
Times change. Interests change. Technology changes. Means of selling merchandise change. And as a result, every store will fail eventually.
I say this at a time when Dr. No's, my comic shop, has posted one of its best years in history, so I don't want you to think I'm concerned about my comic shop. We're doing great, and I think we have the prospects of doing even better in years to come.
At the same time, though, I know that there will be a day when Dr. No's won't exist any longer. And there will be a day when people will reminisce about the store and wonder, "Whatever happened to that comic shop on Canton Road?"
I had to make a trip to the mall tonight--perhaps the third or fourth time I've gone to the mall in the past twelve months. As I walked the length of the mall upstairs and downstairs, I started thinking about the time before there was a Town Center Mall; I remembered its opening in 1986; and I thought about the many stores that once occupied the mall and are now gone. Most of them had their glory days, went into decline, and went away.
Tonight I stopped in the Lindt Chocolates store to pick up some dark chocolate truffles (a weakness of mine). They were on sale for 50% off... because the store is closing. Next week will be their last week of business. After that time, the Lindt store in Lenox Square will be the only remaining Georgia location. And yet it seems like chocolate is more popular than ever right now. So it's not necessarily the decline in popularity of the product itself--it's just a change in public tastes, shopping habits, and economic trends.
It's not a sign of a bad business, or bad management, or bad products. It's just a part of the life cycle.
Had someone told me when I bought Dr. No's from Artie Decker in 1982 that the store would still be open and setting sales records in 2009, I wouldn't have believed it. If someone told me today that the store was going to be gone by the year 2037, I would find that equally hard to believe. We don't like the idea that things change. We count on sameness, we assume that businesses will be here tomorrow and next month and next year and so on.
But every business has a lifespan. And just like people, we don't know in advance how long that lifespan is. (Of course, my goal is to keep my business healthy and thriving for as long as possible, just as my goal is to keep myself healthy and thriving for as long as possible. But neither is immortal.)
There's no set answer to that question, obviously. I'm convinced, though, that just as a person has a finite lifespan, so does a business. I've mentioned this to friends in the past; the best business is ultimately destined to die, as will the worst business. The difference is the duration between a business's inception and its demise.
Just before Christmas, someone who grew up near Dr. No's and was a regular customer during his high school years came back to visit. He moved to the West Coast almost two decades ago and had only been back once or twice to visit since then, and had not been able to drop by the store on those earlier visits. "It was so weird," he said. "I drove down Canton Road, and I realized that other than a few fast food restauarants that were still in the same place, every other business that I remembered from my childhood wasn't there any longer--except for the Ace Hardware store and Dr. No's."
Today I found out that the Ace Hardware store went out of business at the end of 2009, a little more than a week after that former customer remarked on its longevity.
Rich's. Treasure Island. Food Giant. Revco. Turtles. Gateway Books. Oz Records. Liberty News. The Paper Chase. Bruno's. Big K. Drug Emporium. Couch's Grocery. Book Trader. The Record Shop. Godfather's Pizza. Miller's. Wyatt's. Service Merchandise. Norwood Griffin. A&P. People's. Music Music Music. Esserman's. Harris Teeter. Laserdisc Enterprises. Parisian. Premiere Video. Reader's Den. Conn's Grocery. Gass TV and Electronics. Candler's Drugs. The EZ Shop. Petro's Pizza.
Just a few of the many businesses that I have frequented over the years that have thrived, declined, and failed. While a few (A&P, Bruno's Harris Teeter) are still successful elsewhere, none of them still exist in this area--and there are times when I think back fondly on each and every one of them and wonder what went wrong.
Are you old enough to remember when every major mall had a Hammond organ store (or something similar) that loudly played synthesized-rhythm tracks along to accompany syncopated arrangements of recent hits? Do any of those stores still exist today?
Remember when every major mall department store had a sizeable tech and entertainment department with televisions, VCRs, stereo systems, and the like?
Times change. Interests change. Technology changes. Means of selling merchandise change. And as a result, every store will fail eventually.
I say this at a time when Dr. No's, my comic shop, has posted one of its best years in history, so I don't want you to think I'm concerned about my comic shop. We're doing great, and I think we have the prospects of doing even better in years to come.
At the same time, though, I know that there will be a day when Dr. No's won't exist any longer. And there will be a day when people will reminisce about the store and wonder, "Whatever happened to that comic shop on Canton Road?"
I had to make a trip to the mall tonight--perhaps the third or fourth time I've gone to the mall in the past twelve months. As I walked the length of the mall upstairs and downstairs, I started thinking about the time before there was a Town Center Mall; I remembered its opening in 1986; and I thought about the many stores that once occupied the mall and are now gone. Most of them had their glory days, went into decline, and went away.
Tonight I stopped in the Lindt Chocolates store to pick up some dark chocolate truffles (a weakness of mine). They were on sale for 50% off... because the store is closing. Next week will be their last week of business. After that time, the Lindt store in Lenox Square will be the only remaining Georgia location. And yet it seems like chocolate is more popular than ever right now. So it's not necessarily the decline in popularity of the product itself--it's just a change in public tastes, shopping habits, and economic trends.
It's not a sign of a bad business, or bad management, or bad products. It's just a part of the life cycle.
Had someone told me when I bought Dr. No's from Artie Decker in 1982 that the store would still be open and setting sales records in 2009, I wouldn't have believed it. If someone told me today that the store was going to be gone by the year 2037, I would find that equally hard to believe. We don't like the idea that things change. We count on sameness, we assume that businesses will be here tomorrow and next month and next year and so on.
But every business has a lifespan. And just like people, we don't know in advance how long that lifespan is. (Of course, my goal is to keep my business healthy and thriving for as long as possible, just as my goal is to keep myself healthy and thriving for as long as possible. But neither is immortal.)
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Post-New-Year's Post
New Year's Eve... New Year's Day... both have come and gone, and neither was very eventful for me. I have never been one who perceived of New Year's as being particularly significant; it's one day later than the day before, one day earlier than the day after, and other than the changes dictated by societal and governmental dictates, it doesn't even feel like a holiday to me. Since I don't drink and don't enjoy fireworks, I'm uninterested in two of the most ubiquitious celebratory practices associated with the day.
Nevertheless, I recognize that there's a certain significance to the changing of the last numbers in the date--it's an easily recognized marker of the passage of time, the inexorable march forward that we all experience if we're lucky.
I'm always surprised when people say things like "let's hope next year is better than last year," because I've never really thought in terms of a bad year or a good year. Bad things happen in every year, and some years are remembered for the particularly bad things that happen--but every year also has a thousand thousand good things that happened during its 365-day span, whether or not we choose to remember them.
At the same time, I acknowledge that for some, there seem to have been significant sorrows and stresses in 2009, and I hope that changes. I hate to see friends enduring seemingly relentless hardships, and a change for them would be most appreciated.
(I also acknowledge that 2009 was a difficult year economically; we've been on a downward economic slide as a nation ever since the elections of 2006 put the Democrats in charge of the House, where financial policies are made. Things got even worse in 2009, when the Democrats wrested overwhelming control of the Senate and the the White House. If you know me, you know that I find the current Democratic policies to be nationally destructive, both fiscally and ethically, and I see little chance of improvement for at least another year and most likely for three more.)
I had less to say in 2009 than in the prior three years; it's too early to say if 2010 will see a return to my former level of posting or another relatively quiet year.
Nevertheless, I recognize that there's a certain significance to the changing of the last numbers in the date--it's an easily recognized marker of the passage of time, the inexorable march forward that we all experience if we're lucky.
I'm always surprised when people say things like "let's hope next year is better than last year," because I've never really thought in terms of a bad year or a good year. Bad things happen in every year, and some years are remembered for the particularly bad things that happen--but every year also has a thousand thousand good things that happened during its 365-day span, whether or not we choose to remember them.
At the same time, I acknowledge that for some, there seem to have been significant sorrows and stresses in 2009, and I hope that changes. I hate to see friends enduring seemingly relentless hardships, and a change for them would be most appreciated.
(I also acknowledge that 2009 was a difficult year economically; we've been on a downward economic slide as a nation ever since the elections of 2006 put the Democrats in charge of the House, where financial policies are made. Things got even worse in 2009, when the Democrats wrested overwhelming control of the Senate and the the White House. If you know me, you know that I find the current Democratic policies to be nationally destructive, both fiscally and ethically, and I see little chance of improvement for at least another year and most likely for three more.)
I had less to say in 2009 than in the prior three years; it's too early to say if 2010 will see a return to my former level of posting or another relatively quiet year.
Van Go
For the first time in almost five years, I find myself van-less.
In early 2005, I bought a Honda Odyssey minivan, primarily to ensure that I had a vehicle large enough to handle comics shipment pickup for the three stores that were in our shipping group at the time. A van had never qualified as my dream vehicle, but it was the only viable option to hold three stores' weekly comic shipments. After a couple of years, though, I discovered a major design flaw in the Odyssey (the air conditioning compressor was placed too low in an unprotected position, so rocks thrown up from the road had a disconcerting tendency to puncture it--something that Honda acknowledged as a design flaw that they corrected in later models, but they still refused to cover any of the repair cost) that led me to trade the Odyssey in on a Toyota Sienna.
The Sienna was a better vehicle than the Odyssey in every way--drove better, improved sound system, more comfortable, quieter--but it still left me with the problems of second-row seat stowage. Since I used the van for cargo, I had little need for second row seats, so they kept taking up oodles of space in my garage when I took 'em out of the van. Furthermore, while the sound system was improved over the Odyssey, it was still lackluster--weak treble gave a flat, tinny sound rather than a crisp, rich sound.
So the Sienna gave way to the 2009 Nissan Quest, which I still rank as the best van on the market. The Bose sound system was rich and vibrant compared to the Odyssey or the Sienna, the second-row seats fold almost flat (and while they weren't perfectly flat, they were flat enough--and I no longer had to store seats in my garage!), the cargo space was voluminous, the handling was perfectly adequate...
But y'know, I really never wanted to own a van, and I didn't enjoy driving it. I didn't hate it, mind you, but I didn't enjoy it.
Back in September, the third store in our shipping group dropped out, leaving just two stores. And as soon as that happened, I began keeping shipping records, box counts, etc., because I was considering foregoing the van at long last. I had really gotten tired of driving what I felt I should drive to benefit our shipping group; I really wanted to drive what I enjoyed driving.
The last medium-cargo-capacity vehicle I had driven was the Acura MDX, and I had loved its performance, sound, and build quality. So I continued to look at the Acura as a possible replacement, and I let Paul (the owner of the other store in my shipping group) know that I might be making the trade, because it would mean that he might have to make occasional trips to the warehouse on larger weeks. (I thought it only fair to let him know a change was under consideration.) Paul understood, and even joked that he thought it was about time for me to get another vehicle.
When the details on the 2010 MDX were announced, I decided that was the vehicle I wanted. And on December 31st, I became the owner of a 2010 Acura MDX.
I've only had two days to play with it, but it seems to have everything I want in an SUV. For 2010, Acura added a six-speed transmission, cooled front seats (they were already heated), a superlative iPod interface, a hard drive for music storage, a blind-spot alert system, an improved rear camera system, and a few other features that made the vehicle even more appealing--but they kept all the things that made the Acura so enjoyable to drive previously.
Got it from Jackson Acura in Alpharetta, one of the most impressive dealership facilities I've ever visited. Based on my experiences thus far, I'll be doing business with them many times more in the future.
In early 2005, I bought a Honda Odyssey minivan, primarily to ensure that I had a vehicle large enough to handle comics shipment pickup for the three stores that were in our shipping group at the time. A van had never qualified as my dream vehicle, but it was the only viable option to hold three stores' weekly comic shipments. After a couple of years, though, I discovered a major design flaw in the Odyssey (the air conditioning compressor was placed too low in an unprotected position, so rocks thrown up from the road had a disconcerting tendency to puncture it--something that Honda acknowledged as a design flaw that they corrected in later models, but they still refused to cover any of the repair cost) that led me to trade the Odyssey in on a Toyota Sienna.
The Sienna was a better vehicle than the Odyssey in every way--drove better, improved sound system, more comfortable, quieter--but it still left me with the problems of second-row seat stowage. Since I used the van for cargo, I had little need for second row seats, so they kept taking up oodles of space in my garage when I took 'em out of the van. Furthermore, while the sound system was improved over the Odyssey, it was still lackluster--weak treble gave a flat, tinny sound rather than a crisp, rich sound.
So the Sienna gave way to the 2009 Nissan Quest, which I still rank as the best van on the market. The Bose sound system was rich and vibrant compared to the Odyssey or the Sienna, the second-row seats fold almost flat (and while they weren't perfectly flat, they were flat enough--and I no longer had to store seats in my garage!), the cargo space was voluminous, the handling was perfectly adequate...
But y'know, I really never wanted to own a van, and I didn't enjoy driving it. I didn't hate it, mind you, but I didn't enjoy it.
Back in September, the third store in our shipping group dropped out, leaving just two stores. And as soon as that happened, I began keeping shipping records, box counts, etc., because I was considering foregoing the van at long last. I had really gotten tired of driving what I felt I should drive to benefit our shipping group; I really wanted to drive what I enjoyed driving.
The last medium-cargo-capacity vehicle I had driven was the Acura MDX, and I had loved its performance, sound, and build quality. So I continued to look at the Acura as a possible replacement, and I let Paul (the owner of the other store in my shipping group) know that I might be making the trade, because it would mean that he might have to make occasional trips to the warehouse on larger weeks. (I thought it only fair to let him know a change was under consideration.) Paul understood, and even joked that he thought it was about time for me to get another vehicle.
When the details on the 2010 MDX were announced, I decided that was the vehicle I wanted. And on December 31st, I became the owner of a 2010 Acura MDX.
I've only had two days to play with it, but it seems to have everything I want in an SUV. For 2010, Acura added a six-speed transmission, cooled front seats (they were already heated), a superlative iPod interface, a hard drive for music storage, a blind-spot alert system, an improved rear camera system, and a few other features that made the vehicle even more appealing--but they kept all the things that made the Acura so enjoyable to drive previously.
Got it from Jackson Acura in Alpharetta, one of the most impressive dealership facilities I've ever visited. Based on my experiences thus far, I'll be doing business with them many times more in the future.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
A Life In Four Colors (Part Twenty-Nine)
My growing fascination with Marvel Comics grew even stronger through the summer of 1965. Gary Steele had rapidly become my best friend, and that summer we were virtually inseparable. Either both of us were at his house, or both of us were at my house; it helped that we lived only a brisk ten minute walk away from one another, so we could wander from Marchmont Drive to Leon Street on a whim. And we were both positively fascinated by the Marvel Universe, with its ever-expanding links that made every book an interconnected part of a larger whole.
Today, comics are so continuity based that it may seem odd to imagine a time when continuity wasn't a vital part of comics. That's exactly the situation over at DC, however, where almost every comic was set a self-contained pocket universe, a corner of the DCU where interaction was pretty much nonexistent and books could be read in almost any order because the status quo was re-established by the last page of each and every issue. The stories were well-crafted, of course, but there was no sense of a larger reality. They'd try to establish that bigger picture with the annual JLA/JSA crossovers or the occasional Atom/Hawkman or Green Lantern/Flash crossover story, but even those adventures had no impact on the big picture.
The best way to understand it is to watch a syndicated episode of Leave It To Beaver or The Andy Griffith Show or Gomer Pyle or I Dream of Jeannie. Watch one episode and you've got the premise. Now watch other episodes in pretty much any order, and you realize that it doesn't matter. The premise is always preserved, nothing really changes, and the stories are designed to be appealing little vignettes. That's what made syndication so successful back then; we could watch those shows over and over again, in any order, and it made for comfortable viewing because we always knew what the situation was, how everyone was going to act, and how things would wrap up.
Not so with the Marvel Universe. Their war book, Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos, seemed to be set in its own WWII pocket universe... but then Sgt. Fury met Captain America, and then he met Reed Richards, and later on he turned up as a government agent assisting the Fantastic Four as they confronted the Hate-Monger, and a little while after that he became an agent (and then the director) of SHIELD.
Thor might show up in a Human Torch adventure--not as a guest star, but just making a cameo appearance for a panel or two. These characters all operated in the same world, after all, so it was likely that they'd cross paths from time to time.
That concept of continuity defined Marvel from early on. The company tried to establish corporate barriers, adding captions that one character appeared with permission of such-and-such publishing, but it was obvious that it was all one comics line, and there was a relatively small group of creators telling the stories of all these characters.
We were fascinated. We'd look for little clues as to how things fit together; we'd try to figure out just what Thor was doing when the FF were battling Dr. Doom, just to establish a greater time-line.
For junior high school kids looking for something a little more sophisticated, the Marvel Universe filled the bill perfectly. So by the summer of 1965, I was a Marvel Maniac. I bought other comics, but I did so because of my appreciation of the art form; Marvel was my comics passion.
Today, comics are so continuity based that it may seem odd to imagine a time when continuity wasn't a vital part of comics. That's exactly the situation over at DC, however, where almost every comic was set a self-contained pocket universe, a corner of the DCU where interaction was pretty much nonexistent and books could be read in almost any order because the status quo was re-established by the last page of each and every issue. The stories were well-crafted, of course, but there was no sense of a larger reality. They'd try to establish that bigger picture with the annual JLA/JSA crossovers or the occasional Atom/Hawkman or Green Lantern/Flash crossover story, but even those adventures had no impact on the big picture.
The best way to understand it is to watch a syndicated episode of Leave It To Beaver or The Andy Griffith Show or Gomer Pyle or I Dream of Jeannie. Watch one episode and you've got the premise. Now watch other episodes in pretty much any order, and you realize that it doesn't matter. The premise is always preserved, nothing really changes, and the stories are designed to be appealing little vignettes. That's what made syndication so successful back then; we could watch those shows over and over again, in any order, and it made for comfortable viewing because we always knew what the situation was, how everyone was going to act, and how things would wrap up.
Not so with the Marvel Universe. Their war book, Sgt. Fury and His Howling Commandos, seemed to be set in its own WWII pocket universe... but then Sgt. Fury met Captain America, and then he met Reed Richards, and later on he turned up as a government agent assisting the Fantastic Four as they confronted the Hate-Monger, and a little while after that he became an agent (and then the director) of SHIELD.
Thor might show up in a Human Torch adventure--not as a guest star, but just making a cameo appearance for a panel or two. These characters all operated in the same world, after all, so it was likely that they'd cross paths from time to time.
That concept of continuity defined Marvel from early on. The company tried to establish corporate barriers, adding captions that one character appeared with permission of such-and-such publishing, but it was obvious that it was all one comics line, and there was a relatively small group of creators telling the stories of all these characters.
We were fascinated. We'd look for little clues as to how things fit together; we'd try to figure out just what Thor was doing when the FF were battling Dr. Doom, just to establish a greater time-line.
For junior high school kids looking for something a little more sophisticated, the Marvel Universe filled the bill perfectly. So by the summer of 1965, I was a Marvel Maniac. I bought other comics, but I did so because of my appreciation of the art form; Marvel was my comics passion.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Life in Four Colors (Part Twenty-Eight)
The late spring and early summer of 1965 was probably the height of my personal golden age of comic books; I was twelve, about to turn thirteen, and was starting to eran a bit more money mowing lawns, running errands, gathering bottles for deposit, and doing other things that could generate comics money. For the first time I can remember, I had enough money to buy every comic I considered a must-read, with a few bucks left over to buy whatever else caught my eye.
Of course, the "must-reads" were every Marvel Universe book. By 1965, Gary Steele, John Ball, and I were all avid Marvel readers, and each of us hoped to collect an entire run of Marvel books. Between the three of us, we had accomplished that goal, although none of us was 100% complete as far as our personal collections were concerned.
Of course, the presence of a complete Silver Age Marvel canon (even though it was spread among three houses within a half-mile radius) meant that we spent a lot of time visiting one another, reading and re-reading those books until they had no hope of maintaining their condition. That's okay, though; 1965 predated the development of comic book supplies and the related emphasis on near perfection. If a book was intact and showed no signs of serious damage (major spine roll, tears, heavy markings, etc.), it was worth having as far as we were concerned.
Even better, the three of us pretty much memorized what the other guys needed. If we were trading books with Bobby Wear and we saw a few comics that filled holes in the other guys' collections, we'd either trade for them or call the other guys when we got home. If we were getting our monthly haircut at the Shorter Avenue Barber Shop and we saw a comic in their stack of reading material that someone was missing, we hid it until the other guy could get there and do a two-for-one swap. (That's how I got my copy of Strange Tales #135, one of the few issues of Strange Tales I never saw on the stands in Rome... but that may have been because I was still looking for a Human Torch cover and totally overlooked the UNCLE-esque SHIELD series launch.)
We were comrades in collecting, watching out for one another, sharing books, and sharing ideas. However, I had more in common with Gary than I had with John, and pretty soon I found myself spending more time with Gary and less with John. John's father was coming more ill-tempered, and both Gary and I felt awkward when we were there, so we simply quit going to John's house. Of course, John still saw us at either my house or Gary's house, but I suspect his father's increasing anger and intolerance for John's interest in comics was affecting John, too.
Gary and I also shared an interest in music and in science fiction, pulp adventure, and fantasy, none of which appealed to John. So it was no inevitable that, as childhood friendships developed and grew, John drifted away from our group beginning in the summer of 1965; by the end of the year, I saw John only occasionally and thought of him as more of a school friend than a comics buddy.
But oh, what a wonderful summer 1965 was for Marvel fans; the powerless FF joined by Daredevil to confront Dr. Doom in FF #s 39 & 40; the beginning of the Sub-Mariner's solo series in Tales to Astonish; the first Thor Annual; the Doctor Strange-Spidey crossover in Spider-Man Annual #2... These were just a few of the stories that captivated me that year, solidified my belief that Marvel was producing the best comics on the stands. And at same time, DC seemed to be in a bit of a slump, leading me to cut my DC buying to the occasional bat-book, Flash, Green Lantern, Atom, JLA, and Hawkman, with on occasional experimental purchase of Doom Patrol or Strange Adventures or Mystery in Space or Adventure Comics.
Meanwhile, I was becoming enthralled by the fiction of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and began looking for more ERB books than the few I had found at Coosa Valley Bookstore. This was the year my love of books began in earnest.
Of course, the "must-reads" were every Marvel Universe book. By 1965, Gary Steele, John Ball, and I were all avid Marvel readers, and each of us hoped to collect an entire run of Marvel books. Between the three of us, we had accomplished that goal, although none of us was 100% complete as far as our personal collections were concerned.
Of course, the presence of a complete Silver Age Marvel canon (even though it was spread among three houses within a half-mile radius) meant that we spent a lot of time visiting one another, reading and re-reading those books until they had no hope of maintaining their condition. That's okay, though; 1965 predated the development of comic book supplies and the related emphasis on near perfection. If a book was intact and showed no signs of serious damage (major spine roll, tears, heavy markings, etc.), it was worth having as far as we were concerned.
Even better, the three of us pretty much memorized what the other guys needed. If we were trading books with Bobby Wear and we saw a few comics that filled holes in the other guys' collections, we'd either trade for them or call the other guys when we got home. If we were getting our monthly haircut at the Shorter Avenue Barber Shop and we saw a comic in their stack of reading material that someone was missing, we hid it until the other guy could get there and do a two-for-one swap. (That's how I got my copy of Strange Tales #135, one of the few issues of Strange Tales I never saw on the stands in Rome... but that may have been because I was still looking for a Human Torch cover and totally overlooked the UNCLE-esque SHIELD series launch.)
We were comrades in collecting, watching out for one another, sharing books, and sharing ideas. However, I had more in common with Gary than I had with John, and pretty soon I found myself spending more time with Gary and less with John. John's father was coming more ill-tempered, and both Gary and I felt awkward when we were there, so we simply quit going to John's house. Of course, John still saw us at either my house or Gary's house, but I suspect his father's increasing anger and intolerance for John's interest in comics was affecting John, too.
Gary and I also shared an interest in music and in science fiction, pulp adventure, and fantasy, none of which appealed to John. So it was no inevitable that, as childhood friendships developed and grew, John drifted away from our group beginning in the summer of 1965; by the end of the year, I saw John only occasionally and thought of him as more of a school friend than a comics buddy.
But oh, what a wonderful summer 1965 was for Marvel fans; the powerless FF joined by Daredevil to confront Dr. Doom in FF #s 39 & 40; the beginning of the Sub-Mariner's solo series in Tales to Astonish; the first Thor Annual; the Doctor Strange-Spidey crossover in Spider-Man Annual #2... These were just a few of the stories that captivated me that year, solidified my belief that Marvel was producing the best comics on the stands. And at same time, DC seemed to be in a bit of a slump, leading me to cut my DC buying to the occasional bat-book, Flash, Green Lantern, Atom, JLA, and Hawkman, with on occasional experimental purchase of Doom Patrol or Strange Adventures or Mystery in Space or Adventure Comics.
Meanwhile, I was becoming enthralled by the fiction of Edgar Rice Burroughs, and began looking for more ERB books than the few I had found at Coosa Valley Bookstore. This was the year my love of books began in earnest.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Now We're Just Talking Price
So what do you call a woman who'll sacrifice her values, sell her integrity, and do anything for money?
A democratic senator from Louisiana.
A democratic senator from Louisiana.
Saturday, November 07, 2009
A Sick Joke
The democrat aristocracy in the House has now voted to force a government takeover of healthcare (but of course, in the true tradition of any aristocracy, they lawmakers and the President are exempt from this, having created for themselves a superlative health care system that gives them all the privileges and perks they'll deny the plebeian masses). This bill, if not stopped by the Senate, will destroy the American economy in its attempt to force Americans en masse to pay for health care for those who refuse to take responsibility for themselves.
It's a sad day for America--and I can only hope this is the catalyst to convince a lot of Americans to take America back from democrat control next November...
It's a sad day for America--and I can only hope this is the catalyst to convince a lot of Americans to take America back from democrat control next November...
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