Comic Book Addictions

My best down town friend was named Rick. His dad also ran a shop on Main Street. What really tied Rick and me together wasn't our dad's shops proximity, but out love for comics. We called them funny books, but most weren't funny. Most were adventure graphic novels with super heroes saving the world or galaxy in each issue while they dealt with their own personal crises of identity or love. Just like Rick and me.

My job was to sweep out dad's shop, watch the counter, and occasionally shine shoes for extra change. Rick's was much the same, without the shoe shining. Once a day, I'd go to lunch at Jeryo's Drug Store for lunch and I'd usually buy a new comic. My favorites were Spiderman, Batman, Superman (in all their titles: Action Comics, Man of Steel, All Stars, Justice League of America, DC Comics Presents, Superman/Batman, World's Finest, Amazing Spiderman, Marvel Adventures, Marvel Teamups, Detective Comics, World's Finest Comics, The Brave and the Bold). I really liked the societal-angst driven stories in the Green Arrow / Green Lantern books and the Silver Surfer series. I got the entire collection of Anthro - all six issues, but still! and the uber-cool but sadly pathetic Swamp Thing.

Others I would occassionally read included Hawkman, The Fantastic Four, Korak-Son of Tarzan, the Metal Men, then there were the westerns: Kid Colt Outlaw, Two-Gun Kid, Rawhide Kid, Turok-Son of Stone, Tomahawk, and Son of Tomahawk. Man! What great stories to run away into.

Rick and I would keep our collections in medium sized cardboard boxes so we could carry them with us as we spent slow, lazy afternoons either in the back of my dad's or his dad's shops, sitting on the floor, drinking Orange Crush and swapping comics. We didn't worry too much about exactly whose was whose, but we always knew pretty well. His tastes ran along with mine, but a little more toward the lighter side: Archie, Scooby Doo, etc. which were OK, but I was more into the action/adventure stories.

I seem to recall that my obsession with comic books really bothered my dad. He felt that I was wasting my money, and maybe I was, but I worked for my money, kept the shop clean, caused virtually no worries for him and Mom (what was to worry, I was always reading my comics!), so he didn't push it too much, just grumbled. You see, Dad wasn't a reader. He could get by, but he struggled with reading the paper. So that his son would want to sit for hours at a time reading funny books really ... confused him.

More later ...