Thread by @HillaryWarnedUs

My mother taught me to read at a ridiculously early age. By the time I entered Kindergarten, they tested my reading ability as that of a High School student. In fact, my early school years were a series of advanced placement tests, but I don't want to digress. 1

I discovered comics at the age of four, and soon learned that they hit the racks or stands every week. Dad loved to see me wade through the new titles. I was never deprived of a book. Never. 2

Growing up in a Richard Nixon economy, times were hard. My father was a millworker. Mother was a housewife. We were not people of means. Indulging my appetite for fantasy, horror and science fiction was a genuine act of love. 3

There came a time in 1972 when many of the comic books on the stands were 25 cents. That may seem a pittance now, but it was an increase of over 100% over the 12 cents they were only 4 years prior when I first became fascinated by them. 4

But in my mind, I had a ceiling. My weekly comics must never amount to more than $2.00, and most weeks there were only $1.00, give or take 20 cents.

Until the week when they hit $2.00. 5

I became panicked. All the titles I had in my hand were ones which I was collecting, and through happenstance and release schedules, I had 10 comic books in my hand!

I was in the drugstore, and I started to cry. I knew what a sacrifice my hobby was for my Dad's paycheck. 6

He didn't blink. He didn't lecture. He didn't pause. He said, "Do you want them? Get them."

The love I felt for him in that moment was overwhelming. He knew it was not a frivolous purchase. He knew they brought me joy. And he wanted me to feel that joy. 7

It's a crystalline moment. If pressed, I can tell you exactly what were the comics I purchased on that day. When I recall the unfailing love and generosity of my Dad, there are many moments which come to mind, but none as vividly as that day.

I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.

*finis*