I swear when I write, I thought about him this morning. During my afternoon class, my iPhone pinged the news and I had to gather myself... but I wasn’t surprised.
When I was a kid interning at Marvel Comics, I kind of met Stan (the Man) Lee. At the time, he wasn’t much of a physical presence around the midtown offices; but when he was there, everyone knew it. There was a wave of his energy that moved through the building. I worked at a desk in the hallway and before I could process the idea of the actual person, I sensed him — the normal Marvel buzz shifted its buzziness — and then he was passing me with a smile and a “Hey kiddo.” I was 18 and, striding by like a jaunty West Wind, was my Charles Dickens. He was taller than I expected, elegant, and mannerly. He entered an editor’s office, closed the door, and I waited for him to re-emerge, but he didn’t. I don’t know how he disappeared — there was no other way to exit but to pass me by; however, I knew Stan Lee was gone before I knew he was gone. I just felt it... like this morning.
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