LOGO : Site title

I believe that one of the most important things that a father can do for his son is to share with him a cultural and religious heritage. Passing down age-old tenets and beliefs fosters a deep connection between one generation and the next and helps to keep alive a wealth of knowledge in an ever changing world. It was with this in mind that I took my son Jack to the comic book shop for the first time.

One of my most vivid childhood memories that I have of my Dad is a time that he bought me a comic book at a gas station when I was around eight years old. It was an otherwise ordinary trip to the gas station and on the surface, nothing more than a father buying his son a comic, but in the 25 years since, it has become a key moment in my journey to become a man. And a nerd.

I wasn't much of a comic book reader at that point, but I loved the Incredible Hulk TV show and had a great set of Super Friends ViewMaster reels. I scanned the magazine rack, and for some reason the cover of Marvel Two-in-One #50 stood out from all the other comics. The Thing, the orange rock creature from the Fantastic Four, seemed to be facing off against an earlier, even uglier version of himself. Now, as an adult, I can see that it was a pretty obvious metaphor for the Things's self-hatred of his own physical appearance -- he was, after all, forever trapped in that hideous rocky body -- and this cover boldly depicted that struggle with himself. In the eyes of this eight-year-old child, however, it was instead an awesome advertisement for a story about two monsters getting ready to tear up a city block.

My Dad paid for it and we walked out the door, and while there was no chorus of angels heralding a life-changing experience, looking back after decades of comic book collecting, it definitely stands as a watershed moment in my nerdy development.

Since that first comic, I fell deeply into comic book collecting, amassing first a stack and then a box and then many boxes. When I was old enough to discover comic book conventions, my Dad would drive me across the border to Detroit so that I could spend my saved-up allowance on old and weird comics that I just couldn't find in the convenience stores of my small hometown.

My son is way too young for comics right now, but I definitely want to expose him to them as he grows up and hopefully we'll be able to share that interest. For his first trip to the comic book shop I sat down and organized a massive ceremony with balloons and cake and acrobats and fireworks and big-name entertainment, but after rolling the contents of my spare change jar, I realized that my budget could probably only stretch far enough to cover some goldfish crackers and sliced cheese. Besides, it wasn't even going to be a big week for new releases, so a big celebration might have been a little out of place.

For those of you who have never set foot in a store like the Android's Dungeon (see episodes of The Simpsons for that reference) and aren't familiar with how the comic book world operates, every Wednesday is New Comics Day, the day each week when the new shipment of comics hit the shelves. The second the doors open, a steady stream of poorly socialized misfits with hygiene problems pour in to study the new release rack and then scurry back to their parents' basements. That might sound a bit harsh, but it's part of the nerd code to mock our own, and sometimes the truth hurts.

I chose to take Jack to a smaller store on the Danforth called Comics & More, mainly because it was within walking distance and also because it would be more a more low-key experience than some other comic shops in the city. I eased the stroller into the store and let him drink it all in. He seemed content to roll his head back and forth and then contemplate the thumb on his right hand. I wheeled him back to the new release rack and tried to engage him in the books I was picking out by offering up a running commentary on comics history.

“This character here is the Spirit, he was created by Will Eisner way back in the Thirties as a newspaper supplement, and these guys are is the Fantastic Four, and they were originally drawn by Jack Kirby, who is Daddy's favourite artist ever, and they revolutionized superhero comics back in the Sixties...”

It was at this point that Jack looked up, not at me, but at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling. At this point in his life, Jack had become obsessed with two things -- ceiling fans and light fixtures. I imagine that it had something to do with his perspective on the world, but anytime he saw either of those two things, he started pointing wildly and grunting and wailing to get my attention, and since he was too young to fully understand that every single store that we would ever go into ever would have ceiling lights, he got excited about them every time we went into a store. Any store. Every store.

I tried to buy some time with a small bribe of some goldfish crackers, but that didn't keep him quiet for long. His insistent vocalizations received a surprisingly negative reaction from the other customers crowding around the new release rack, and rather than suffer any further exaggerated eye-rolling and melodramatic sighs, I cut short the tutorial, grabbed my comics and raced up to the checkout.

Of course there was a panel of fluorescent lights right above the cash register, a fact that Jack felt the urgent need to point out to me. I was getting very anxious and embarrassed by his flailing, and tried to apologize to the owner and explain that this was hopefully just a short phase that he was going through. The owner, to his credit, didn't boot us out on the spot but instead leaned over the counter and told Jack that he too was excited about the lights. That seemed to satisfy him. For the moment.

I was a little worried that he would have these kinds of outbursts every time we went to the comic shop, but I wasn't deterred. I couldn't be, because I have a standing appointment to go to the comic shop every Wednesday, and since I'm the one watching him during the day, he'll have to come along whether he likes it or not, and if he doesn't like it, he's free to give Child Services a call.

T he following week I decided to press my luck, so we rode the streetcar across town to visit the Silver Snail on Queen Street West. One of the biggest and brightest comic shops in the city, the Snail is well known for its extravagant window displays and a massive collection of toys. I know that once he is older Jack will absolutely freak out when we go there, but at this point in his development, I was a little leery as I wheeled him in.

He pointed out all the lights, of course, and the rather dusty ceiling fan, but for the most part, he was pretty subdued. Perhaps the 45-minute streetcar ride helped. The Snail is a much busier store than Comics & More, so we had to negotiate many more people clustered around the new comics rack, but Jack seemed to enjoy just sitting there and looking at all the brightly coloured books and toys on the wall. We took our place in line and he started grunting and gesticulating at the ceiling.

“Oh no, here we go again,” I thought, and looked up. Instead of a light fixture, Jack was pointing at an action figure suspended from the ceiling, an action figure based on a character near and dear to my heart.

“Well, Jack, that character's called the Demon, and he was created by Jack Kirby, thank you for pointing that out! Did you know that his series ran from August 1972 to January 1974?” He stared at me with a thoughtful look on his face and then went back to sucking his thumb. Lesson's over.

We've since visited a wide range of comic shops and he's really become accustomed to the sights and sounds, and of course the smells, of New Comics Day. Some places, like the Beguiling on Markham Street, don't seem to have many one-year-old customers, so the guys behind the counter there always seem a bit startled when I come in with Junior in tow, and now that he's a regular at Comics & More, the staff always make sure to say hi and try to get him to smile.

He's too young for them right now, but I'm looking forward to a New Comics Day a couple of years from now when I'll be able point to the new release rack and say, “Hey Jack, do you want to get a comic book?”