Recently, I have rediscovered my love of comic books. They’re the perfect blend of writing and art; it just makes sense that they’re a medium I would love. There are fascinating storylines, they’re episodic (so they’re perfect for my ADHD), and they’re ultimately what shaped much of my early tastes in movies, TV, and books.
When I was young, my dad collected/bought/sold trading cards. We spent many a-weekend in banquet rooms at Ramada Inns around East Texas buying and trading baseball cards. I never had much interest in trading cards, to be honest, but I loved when vendors around us were also comic book vendors. I would wander through and delicately touch the plastic-protected works of art, marveling at the covers of X-Men and Spider-Man and Darkwing Duck (the 1991 limited series.) I would count my quarters in hopes that I could afford the things I saw. And slowly, I amassed a small collection of my favorite Saturday Morning Cartoons in print form. I had Darkwing Duck, Chip ‘n Dale Rescue Rangers, and TaleSpin. All bagged and boarded and untouched. I read them once through, turning the pages very carefully as I had been shown, and then tucked them away.
There had been some that I had loved and read over and over until the covers literally fell off. But in general, once through was enough. And then I filed them away, saving them for a later day. The cover art was beautiful, and having them made me feel fancy. And since then, I have always loved collecting comics as much as I’ve loved reading them.