Posted: 12/4/2007 4:24:28 PMWhat I’m about to say is extremely difficult, but here it goes anyways.
Last month marked thirty years since I got hooked permanently on comics.
There. I said it. Th-Th-Thirty years.
Yeah, after a few missteps and false starts, I started buying comics on a regular basis after I set eyes upon, paid for, and read thoroughly Avengers #168 (Feb 78, but actually hit the racks in November of 1977), the second part of Jim Shooter’s incredible Korvac / Michael saga.
I still can’t get over it. Thirty. Years. Why, when I started collecting in 1977, thirty years ago was, gasp, 1947. Three decades seemed like a long time ago, back then. But this morning, I woke up, and thirty years had suddenly gone by. Weird.
I remember asking my dad one time what life was like back when he was younger, eager to laugh at his anecdotes about washing clothes on a board down by the river, or hauling a block of ice back home from the corner store for the “ice box,” or having to milk the cows at dawn before walking three miles to school every day. But what he said was actually very surprising. He told me that when he was a kid, people went to church, and to picnics, and bowling every Friday night, just like they do now. They just did it while sporting funny looking clothes and hairstyles.