In Remembrance of Things Past

     I am liquidating my assets. Not only have I grown tired of the clutter they seem to invoke and promote, but let's face it: I need the money. Number one on my list was my comic books. Yup, all 1500+ of them. The hardest to let go of will be my Hulks, as I had been collecting them since I was a wee lad of nine; which is why those must be the first to go. If I can get rid of what I hold most dear first, the remainder will be as nothing to part with.
     As I began going through them, listing which issues I have, grading them, pricing them, that old, familiar smell hit me. Any true collector of literature in general and comics more specifically knows exactly of which I am speaking; it is that faint, musty smell that says, "This is OLD!" What is it about that smell that I find so inviting, so intoxicating, that calls to memory the exact time and place each comic was purchased? I really don't know, but I wouldn't want to be without it. Especially now.
     That smell. More than just carrying me back to those bonny, bygone days when each was purchased, they take me on a journey of another sort as well. I remember in my youth and even well into the latter years of my teens how there was something almost mystical about buying and reading comic books. Aside from the educational aspects reading and collecting presented (I would not have known the definitions of omnipotent, omniscient, or omnipresent, nor learned a myriad of other words, been introduced to mythology, or a host of many other wonderful things if not for comics), there was just something about waiting at the local drug store or mini-mart every Tuesday for the latest issues to arrive, and as I got older and was able to drive, heading to the next town over to visit the most wonderous place of all: The Comic Shop. I was like Alice or the Narnia kids, stepping into another world where every fantastic thing was at my fingertips. No other feeling in the world exists, I can assure you. But somewhere along the way, I grew up.
     There is both a positive and negative to this. On the one hand, I was introduced to comics such as Ralph Snart, Marshall Law, Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children, Alien Worlds--books that have no monetary value but provide some of the best reading ever--which spoke of my evolving tastes, while on the other hand I was now beginning to look at comics from strictly an investor's point of view. I read what I wanted, but I invested heavily in books I would never read, and much of that was the Image and Valiant stuff that was so mass produced it isn't even worth the price of a roll of toilet paper today. It is a humbling experience to see that a book I had invested $20 in is worth less than cover price, but I suppose I deserve that as I allowed the dark side of collecting to envelope me: Speculation.
     So here I sit today, with the last two boxes of comics to go through before I am done and I think to myself...So what? I may have lost money on speculation, and I may be stuck with comics that will never be worth more than cover price, and that's okay because I have some real gems that will fetch a price that--from an investor's standpoint--will make it all worthwhile. I have comics that were signed by Joe Quesada and George Perez, and these will be passed down to my children. But above all else, I have the memory of that long ago and far away when the magic kingdom existed, and nothing in the world will ever take the place of that.