A box arrived from Forbidden Planet today.
It has been over three months since Aleda and I read a new comic and, because of this imposed gap, we've been combing through our boxes (and boxes) of back issues. Treasures abound and we have more than enough books to last several lifetimes of compulsive perusing. But new comics bring renewed hope.
It has been over three months since Aleda and I read a new comic and, because of this imposed gap, we've been combing through our boxes (and boxes) of back issues. Treasures abound and we have more than enough books to last several lifetimes of compulsive perusing. But new comics bring renewed hope.
Still, several things are now absolutely clear to me:
- Yes, I'm a month away from turning 50 and I still read comic books (all kinds) with the fervor of a 13-year-old.
- My 18-year-old daughter has yet to "outgrow" the obsession proving that she's definitely a lifer.
- Something seemingly trivial -- a stapled collection of illustrations and words -- can bring a sense of normalcy to these outstandingly tumultuous times.
- And when my last day arrives, I will likely have one of these four-color collections of glorious imagination in my cold hands.
'Nuff said.
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