I Love Comic Books

A Tribute to the Medium of Joy

I remember my cousin, Joseph, who passed away last year when I look at this cover. I never owned this individual issue, but shortly after it came out, I started collecting comic books on my own. Chris Claremont and Paul Smith were my first creative team. I had received comics prior, a mostly hodgepodge handful that some relative would give me. The odd Denny/Neal Batman. A Carmine Infantino Flash. But seeing this comic on my cousin's couch. It sparked something in me. To call it a “love affair” would be weird, but it's not so far from the truth. I fell in love that day, and for the most part, I'm still in love with comic books.

I…haven't truly processed losing my cousin. He was my senior by 6 months, and there were times when I felt like he was my best friend, and times when I felt like he was a stranger. But…I look at this cover, and I remember that weekend in the 80s, sitting on his parent's couch in Bayonne, NJ. And I remember a later time in that same house, but maybe in his bedroom, seeing his collection of DC/Impact Comics (unbeknownst to me at the time, my first exposure to the work of Mark Waid). I remember Joseph, and his comics, and New Jersey (Bayonne and, later, Bradley Beach) and I remember what an impact (pun intended) his life had on me and…I weep. I weep, but I'm grateful this comic exists. If not in my collection, in someone's long box. Or in a trade paperback in someone's shelf.

My cousin, Robert. My little brother, in some ways. 8 months separate us and while this wasn't his first comic, it represents something really special to me. See, I was the DC guy, he was the Marvel guy. Not that we didn't dip toes into the distinguished competition. As I said, I was all over Uncanny. He loved Spider-Man, though. Still does. And I remember how excited he was when he found out Nightcrawler was getting a four issue mini-series. He doesn't collect like he used to, but even now, I can talk him into checking something out because I know his tastes and to his credit, he's still the kid on top of the fridge pretending to bamf around the kitchen.

I could regale you with more stories like this, but it would get repetitive after a while. The basic jist of it is I'm grateful to the comic book industry. Just like music, an issue or a cover or a panel can remind me of a time and place. I can be transported instantly. I can remember how Robert and I were so confused about that weird structure in Central Park that was kidnapping heroes. I can remember how Joseph and I begged our dads to take us to Fort Wadsworth in Staten Island because we knew the G.I. Joe Headquarters was there and we thought we could find it.

Comic books brings out the best of us. The only thing it can't do is teach a boy to kiss. Maybe it can. I'm sure Jaime Hernandez could figure that out better than I can.

Comics can bring out the worst of us. They're less of a concern now, but the hate spewed by those that associate(d) with Comicsgate is proof that not all of us learned the same lessons about fairness and justice. Or we did, but just applied it differently.

My aunt, Camille, likes to tell my kids about how I used to bring my comics with me to my grandparent''s house and literally take command of the dining room table, organizing them. In fact, if you look hard enough at pictures of me as a kid, you'll see a comic or an action figure.

In some pictures, you don't have to look so hard.

I'm not one of those that want to be buried with my comic collection. I'm actually not precious about them. I like to give them away or donate them to the library because maybe someone will associate their first love with comics and remember the day they discovered the copy of Chris Schweizer’s Crogan’s Adventures that I donated.

I love comic books for what they are. I love comic books for what they could be. I love stories, and art, and telling stories graphically. I love that I get to contribute, even in a small way, to the grand history of the American comic book legacy. I love talking about comic books and talking about making comic books. I love that I get to talk to one of my best friends, every week, to talk about comics (72 straight weeks as of today!). I love that I'm talking with another one of my best friends about the production of my comic book.

I love the stack of comics by my bed. I love the stack by my desk. And I love the full bookshelf of the comics I've made. I love the comic store and the discovery moments that happen when I browse. I love back issue bins. I love the indie section. I love the whole feeling of finding a story I've read before in a new edition and sliding back into it like a well worn pair of Adidas Sambas.

I love conventions, from church basements to San Diego, from high school cafeterias to the Javits Center, and all the spots in between. I love that comic books take me places I've never been to, both within the pages and in real life, and I love meeting people who love comics.

It's a wonderful world of Kirby krackle and Ben-day dots.

Don't you love it?