07/30/08
With music and girls making increasing demands on my time during my college years (the 90s), my devotion to comic books began to wain. The impulse to meet new people, go dancing and see bands really put comic-time on the back-burner.
After a few years, I was down to picking up only a few titles: X-Men and other mutant-related books, and manga. Enter Closet of Comics - a portal to the younger Hal universe. COC was my favorite kind of comic store – mile-long, dust-covered, yellowing bins full of back issues, nerds playing D&D, and random friendly freaks. But social obligations, a girlfriend, the campus radio station, the school paper and, um, classes, kinda got in the way of staying committed to my old hobby. By 1995, I had stopped collecting completely.
Todd McFarlane ruled the 90s. His influence was everywhere in comics and toys, and by that time I had had enough of his overdrawn characters. Add to that the proliferation of gimmicks such as collector cards, hologram covers and rising prices, and it wasn’t long before comics and I had to part ways. It made me a little sad, but the change was necessary. It would be many years before I read or buy a comic book again.
Back in the saddle again!
05.03.08
I’m Back! I’m back in the saddle again.
I may be slightly grown-up and a touch jaded, but it feels good to be me, unstoppable drives and all. Time to catch up on some comics.
I've always been a sucker for comic book-based movies. Iron Man was well-executed, and subsequently enjoyed not just by me, but my wife Yael as well. It was better than any of the recent Spider-Man, Hulk or X-Men movies (not to mention vastly superior to recent box office stinkers Fantastic Four, Daredevil, etc.). Iron Man supplemented the big explosions and action with impressive character development; we witnessed Robert Downey, Jr. womanizing, drowning in alcoholism and facing certain death. A real hoot, all around.
Leaving the theater, I begged Yael (who, in my opinion, looks like she was drawn by one of my favorite artists, John Byrne) for a few minutes in Forbidden Planet, the comic shop across the street from the theater. Hey, she had to make a phone call anyway.
I knew that once Yael was off the phone that she'd be coming after me, so I had to hurry. Clutching a handful of current Avengers issues, I waved to Yael as she waded through the fanboys into the store.
“Look at you!” my wife said. “You’re shaking! This stuff is like CRACK for you!”
I’m Back! I’m back in the saddle again.
I may be slightly grown-up and a touch jaded, but it feels good to be me, unstoppable drives and all. Time to catch up on some comics.
I've always been a sucker for comic book-based movies. Iron Man was well-executed, and subsequently enjoyed not just by me, but my wife Yael as well. It was better than any of the recent Spider-Man, Hulk or X-Men movies (not to mention vastly superior to recent box office stinkers Fantastic Four, Daredevil, etc.). Iron Man supplemented the big explosions and action with impressive character development; we witnessed Robert Downey, Jr. womanizing, drowning in alcoholism and facing certain death. A real hoot, all around.
Leaving the theater, I begged Yael (who, in my opinion, looks like she was drawn by one of my favorite artists, John Byrne) for a few minutes in Forbidden Planet, the comic shop across the street from the theater. Hey, she had to make a phone call anyway.
I knew that once Yael was off the phone that she'd be coming after me, so I had to hurry. Clutching a handful of current Avengers issues, I waved to Yael as she waded through the fanboys into the store.
“Look at you!” my wife said. “You’re shaking! This stuff is like CRACK for you!”
The Gradual Return
07/30/08
For me, the Jewish holidays are never just about tradition; this is a time for me to reconnect with family and re-evaluate parts of my life. It was Passover, 2006, and I brought my new girlfriend/future wife Yael home to meet my family for the first time. We were downstairs, in my old bedroom. My brother and his wife had just arrived and it was a few minutes before dinner.
“Can I look at your old comics?” Scott asked as he entered the room. Looking through stuff in my old room was like stepping into a time warp, where all sorts of pop culture treasures could be found. “I just wanna see what comics you still have.”
He went straight for the sliding wood-paneled door, knowing exactly where to look. He slid the door open, carefully lifted and cradled a pile of comics to his chest and sat down on the edge of the bed. We watched him lift one after another to his nose, open to a random page, and sniff deeply.
“Snifffff! Ahhh, I LOVE the smell of old comics,” Scott explained. So much for convincing my future wife that I come from a normal family.
“Um, dude, you just sniffed an issue of ROM: Spaceknight,” I warned him. “Take it easy, there are dire wraiths in those pages.”
I make no excuses for Rom: Spaceknight.
Witnessing my brother perform this bizarre ritual stung at me nostalgically. I began to question why I had completely stopped reading and collecting comics.
Sorting through piles of comics later that night while Yael slept, I felt myself slowly slipping back in time. Long-buried feelings of enjoyment began to surface as I studied the thrilling covers and heroic poses that helped me temporarily dodge the plights of puberty.
Pushing aside some unpleasant memories of junior high like I was discarding embarrassing photos, I began to uncover the familiar excitement of entering another dimension. I could hear characters' voices as I thought they might sound: Wolverine's gruff one-liners, Nightcrawler's nasal German accent, Adam West (of course) as Batman, Dan Gilvezan's Casey Casem-esque voicing for Spidey, and Thor's booming vows. My mental arsenal of sound effects from Star Trek, movies and various animated shows hurled me right into the middle of street-level fistfights and desperate deep-space battles.
It was all coming back to me. The thrill of comics had seemingly faded, but I had really just filed them away safely, to be rediscovered years later just as I had done back on that fateful autumn day back in '82. This time, however, I actually had a girlfriend. Putting it all into perspective, life looked pretty good to me.
Defenders #117 - a very emotional issue.
Fast-forward to December. I discover The Baseball Card Dugout, a tiny, dusty treasure of a comic book and baseball card store, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. They have old comics. I wasn't ready for new comics yet, so it was perfect timing for my indulgence. I wanted to drag my friend Dan over there.
***
12.9.06
My email to Dan:
“... went to the Dugout today and got more Detective Comix and Defenders!”
Dan's response:
“There's been three decades of amazing comics and your
stuck on crappy old Defenders back-issues! Stop
reliving yr childhood man--IT'S OVER!!
They have comics where people show boobies and curse
and contemplate serious issues beyond how Valkyrie's
breast-plate doesn't make her boobs sag. SHEESH!!
-D
***
I could see Dan's point, but it would be months before I would come back to the future.
For me, the Jewish holidays are never just about tradition; this is a time for me to reconnect with family and re-evaluate parts of my life. It was Passover, 2006, and I brought my new girlfriend/future wife Yael home to meet my family for the first time. We were downstairs, in my old bedroom. My brother and his wife had just arrived and it was a few minutes before dinner.
“Can I look at your old comics?” Scott asked as he entered the room. Looking through stuff in my old room was like stepping into a time warp, where all sorts of pop culture treasures could be found. “I just wanna see what comics you still have.”
He went straight for the sliding wood-paneled door, knowing exactly where to look. He slid the door open, carefully lifted and cradled a pile of comics to his chest and sat down on the edge of the bed. We watched him lift one after another to his nose, open to a random page, and sniff deeply.
“Snifffff! Ahhh, I LOVE the smell of old comics,” Scott explained. So much for convincing my future wife that I come from a normal family.
“Um, dude, you just sniffed an issue of ROM: Spaceknight,” I warned him. “Take it easy, there are dire wraiths in those pages.”
I make no excuses for Rom: Spaceknight.
Witnessing my brother perform this bizarre ritual stung at me nostalgically. I began to question why I had completely stopped reading and collecting comics.
Sorting through piles of comics later that night while Yael slept, I felt myself slowly slipping back in time. Long-buried feelings of enjoyment began to surface as I studied the thrilling covers and heroic poses that helped me temporarily dodge the plights of puberty.
Pushing aside some unpleasant memories of junior high like I was discarding embarrassing photos, I began to uncover the familiar excitement of entering another dimension. I could hear characters' voices as I thought they might sound: Wolverine's gruff one-liners, Nightcrawler's nasal German accent, Adam West (of course) as Batman, Dan Gilvezan's Casey Casem-esque voicing for Spidey, and Thor's booming vows. My mental arsenal of sound effects from Star Trek, movies and various animated shows hurled me right into the middle of street-level fistfights and desperate deep-space battles.
It was all coming back to me. The thrill of comics had seemingly faded, but I had really just filed them away safely, to be rediscovered years later just as I had done back on that fateful autumn day back in '82. This time, however, I actually had a girlfriend. Putting it all into perspective, life looked pretty good to me.
Defenders #117 - a very emotional issue.
Fast-forward to December. I discover The Baseball Card Dugout, a tiny, dusty treasure of a comic book and baseball card store, in Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn. They have old comics. I wasn't ready for new comics yet, so it was perfect timing for my indulgence. I wanted to drag my friend Dan over there.
***
12.9.06
My email to Dan:
“... went to the Dugout today and got more Detective Comix and Defenders!”
Dan's response:
“There's been three decades of amazing comics and your
stuck on crappy old Defenders back-issues! Stop
reliving yr childhood man--IT'S OVER!!
They have comics where people show boobies and curse
and contemplate serious issues beyond how Valkyrie's
breast-plate doesn't make her boobs sag. SHEESH!!
-D
***
I could see Dan's point, but it would be months before I would come back to the future.
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