The Comic Book Collection.

I am not a collector of things.  In fact, I really don’t understand collections, as being responsible for the maintenance of stuff overwhelms me.  I am like a nomad – I have approximately zero things.  I prefer to have experiences.  I’d choose a half hour in the acrylic paints aisle of a crafts store with a complete stranger with a story to tell over a mint-condition record any day.  However, I’m married to a Collector.  Capital C.  My husband collects: first-edition hardcover books, all in library bindings; DVDs of old movies and TV shows; music; art; camping equipment; Fiesta table settings; and comic books.  And because I can be a bit of a buzzkill about it (we are two people who have outgrown a two-bedroom house), he likes to share his love of collecting with other people.

Yesterday, my little brother, The Baby, drove down to visit us and we took him to a local comic book store, where The Baby and The Husband spent over an hour scouring cardboard boxes for comics to complete specific series.

photo 1-1

Planning the attack.  (And yes, that is a fleece blanket covering a street-facing window!  It’s so good of you to notice.)

I, on the other hand, spent the hour 1) being drawn to George Harrison records before realizing that we don’t have a record player, and 2) feeling like I had stepped back in time and was digging through our brother The Middle Child’s bedroom in 1996.

The following is a photo retrospective of all the comic book store items The Middle Child owned when we were growing up:

photo 1-2

I was always very troubled by Spawn. As a child who grew up to study dead people, I think this says more about Spawn and less about my tolerance for nastiness.

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Luke Skywalker, Maggie Simpson, Lost Boy, Skeletor!

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Contains a pen-and-ink drawing of a carrot that looked like a boot!

photo 2-2

Dilophosaurus from Jurassic Park, complete with collar.

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Is it weird that this decomposing Cursed Princess reminds me of the time when Brendan Fraser was super good looking?

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Oh my God, the hours I spent listening to the difference between the green lightsaber packaging and the red.

On a related note, The Baby and I will be opening our own comic book store.  We’re calling it “Garage.”  Because it will be run entirely out of our parents’ garage.

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4 thoughts on “The Comic Book Collection.

  1. Yikes. I stopped collecting baseball cards when I realized it wouldn’t get me laid, and was maybe even inhibiting it! Your life sounds like a Big Bang Theory episode. Funny on TV, maybe less so in real life?

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