Saturday, August 6, 2022

Comic Books and Memories

When I was cleaning out my mom's house a couple of years ago, one of things I rescued was a milk crate full of comic books.  Spiderman, The Fantastic Four, Ghost Rider, and Moon Knight to name a few.  All Marvel Comics because when I was ten years old - Joe's age - I was a Marvel Comics guy.  No DC Comics and no Batman or Superman because they weren't cool enough.  

I put the milk crate in our basement where is sat until a few months ago when, after watching the original Spiderman movie w/Toby Maguire, I decided it was time to show them to Joe.  When I brought the milk crate of comic books upstairs, his eyes lit up and he grinned at me.  I told him how much I had loved Marvel Comics when I was about his age and how my favorites were Spiderman and The Fantastic Four.  He listened intently, nodded, and I left the milk crate in the playroom for him.  

Over the next couple of weeks, I noticed him reading the comics on weekends during "40 for 40" (the boys do 40 minutes of reading then get 40 minutes of iPad or Xbox time).  When we went on vacation to Bradenton, FL, Joe brought five or six comic books with him and read them in the afternoons.  I could tell he was hooked, just as I had been at age 10.  

Yesterday, I picked up JP from cross country practice at MBA and got home a little early for a Friday.  I was finishing up a little work in the office when Joe walked in and wanted to show me something.  

"This is may favorite comic book, Dad," he said.  I took a closer look at it.  From 1977 with a 60 cent cover price, it was a year end double issue.  Spiderman and the Thing, teaming up to fight some villain.  

As I held the 45 year old comic book in my hand, then opened the cover and began to look through it, I stepped backwards in time, suddenly, to 1977, when I was 11 years old.  Spiderman and the Thing, my two favorite comic book characters.  Together, in one issue.  I probably got that comic book at Kwik Sak market on Moores Lane with my mom, who would have been 37 years old when she bought it for me. 

"You know what, bud?  I think it was one of my favorites, too." I said, shaking my head.  Wow.  We laughed about the price tag, too.  60 cents.

It makes be so happy - happy beyond belief, really - to see Joe reading my old comic books, the ones that my mother bought me when I was 10 or 11 years old.  I am so very glad I saved them all of these years hoping, I know, that someday I would have a son who wanted to read them.  A son who would love them as much as I did.  And with Joe, I do.  

Though he is his mother's son for sure, Joe is like me in so many ways, more so even than JP.  He is confident and outgoing, a natural leader.  Vocal when he's playing sports.  Stubborn, at time.  Competitive.  Emotional.  Absent minded.  He's a dreamer with a vivid imagination.  Those are all qualities we share.

My comic book phase didn't last terribly long.  I never became a serious collector.  There was a probably a two or three year window before I got into baseball cards which, of course, I did collect for several years.  

I doubt Joe's comic book phase will last too long either.  Still, it's cool to see him so enthralled with them for a while and to see some of me, at that age, in him.  

I would give anything to be able to talk with my mom about Joe's similarities to me at age 10.  She would see it, too, I know, and probably laugh at the irony of Joe being like me in so many ways.  Sometimes, watching Joe being Joe reminds me of how much I miss her.  

Recently, in something I was reading, someone said that the burden of carrying the grief of someone lost doesn't get any lighter over time.  You just get stronger and develop the ability to carry it with you with less effort.  I think there's some truth in that sentiment.  

I love where Joe is right now.  10 and 11 years old is such a great age.  Joe still has the innocence and naïveté of a child because he still is a child, at least for a couple more years.  I want to savor these next couple of years with him, to make them last.  

I hope they're as memorable to him, someday, as they are to me, right now.  I also hope, someday, he reads the entries in this blog and understands how much I loved him, today, on August 6, 2022.  I hope he understands how almost every day, I wonder what I did for God to bless me with the him, and with JP, as my sons.  

  

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