Back On The (Hobby) Horse

A comic book’s worst enemy is the paper it’s printed on, as the paper, particularly in the case of older comics printed on cheap newsprint, contains acid that eats away at the paper, causing it to yellow and, eventually, totally disintegrate.
This is why, in order to store them, you need to put them in mylar bags and back them with boards – both of which need to be acid-free – and keep them inside of a box that protects them from UV light and humidity.
Of course, this only serves to prevent the disintegration process from going any faster than it’s already going. There’s nothing you can do to actually stop it.
Up until I was 18 I did a shitty job of taking care of my comics. Not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t have ready access to any of the proper storage materials. At 18 I went to college and lived in a town with a comic book shop, so I was able to do a slightly better job. I didn’t do much better; I’ve always been a reader, not really a collector.
One night, maybe 15 years ago, I found myself sitting on the floor in my living room bagging, boarding, and organizing my comics, avoiding the temptation to just sit there and read them. At one point, I just stopped and stared off into space. My wife, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a friend of hers who was visiting, noticed this and asked what was the matter. I said, “I thought the whole point of having a hobby was that you’re doing something you enjoy.”
Suffice to say that today, as I took all of the comics out of their yellowed old boxes and piled them up on the floor semi-sorted, with the accumulated acid irritating my skin, I wasn’t exactly having a blast.
I tossed all of the boxes and will likely do the same with all of the bags and boards. Replacing the boxes won’t cost too much, but getting new bags and boards will be pricey. I think I’ll have to do it in stages.
When I was at Super Target today I ended up in line behind a group of old ladies, one of whom decided to pay for her purchases by credit card, which was a bad move, as it necessitated using the card reader, which requires “advanced” technical skills that old ladies just don’t have.
The card readers at Super Target, as at most places, can accept your card at any time, but apparently she wasn’t aware of this and seemed offended by its exhortation to insert her card now. “Insert now?” she asked. “Isn’t that a little early?”
Once everything was scanned she said, to no one in particular, “Now I’ll put my card in.”
The readers there actually pull your card in. Not expecting that, she let out a loud gasp and then an equally loud laugh.
It was just like that scene in Pretty Woman, except that she wasn’t getting an expensive gift from a billionaire and she wasn’t young and attractive.
She might have been a whore, though. I mean, just because she’s old doesn’t mean she doesn’t spread it around.
I’m just saying. I mean, I don’t know that she’s a whore, but last week Dove told me that beauty doesn’t have an age limit, so who’s to say that being a whore does either?
In any case, I just thought I’d mention the fun-filled afternoon of messing with dusty, acidic paper that I had.
I’m so glad I’m reviving my hobby.