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Comic Book Runaway

Why this memory is so strong, I don't know. Half the time I feel like I can't remember what went on yesterday.

As a little boy, there was a lot of fighting that went on at home. Mostly among my older siblings. Mom was usally gone working. I didn't want to be a part of the chaos and I would frequently run away. My preparations would consist of grabbing my little backpack, loading it up with comic books, grabbing my completely dull old timer pocket knife, that I could barely open, and preparing a little sandwich for my destination.

The sandwich was the best. It consisted of two slices of super thin square loaf white bread, slathering it with soft butter and then pouring a teaspoon of sugar all over the butter. Close that up and you had basically a red neck pastry.

With my gear in hand, I'd announce really loud that I was running away and that I wasn't coming back. After journeying the long trek of 50 yards from the house to the barn, I'd set up my camp on the back side of the barn next to the little stream that ran through our property. The air was always cool, the sound so inviting and the shade of the barn was perfect for perusing my comic books.

I would get so lost in those wonderful books. My imagination would run wild with visuals of mighty comic book heroes saving the world. The reading/looking list consisted of The Incredible Hulk, Richy Rich, Thor, Spiderman and any other one I could get my little hands on. I got most of the books from our neighbor a few miles down the road that was friends with my brothers. He always snuck me his old comic books when he was done with them. My mom hated comic books. She would tear them up and burn them all everytime she found them in the house. I kept my own stash underneath my bottom drawer. You had to take my underwear drawer out to know they were there. I could fit about 20 comic books under there and it worked well for a long time.

After browsing the comic books, with my imagination stretched to its max, I would usually fall asleep leaned up against the barn, in the dirt somewhere, or meander my way back to the front porch swing, and one of my siblings would usually collect me up and take me back inside. I was never happy when they woke me up.

My sister charlie sent me this picture yesterday after I had written down this childhood experience. I was so excited to see that someone had actually captured one of my runaway missions. The incredible hulk as my companion up in the corner. So amazing!!

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