Superman #2 – A Christmas Story, by Michael Davis
I LOVE CHRISTMAS!
I love it, love it LOVE IT! It’s by far my favorite time of the year. When I was a kid my mother would always make sure we had a great Christmas no matter what. My mother had two jobs and was going to school year round. I learned years later that she always took a third job around Christmas. So I have a LOT of Christmas stories some good some not so good but most involving comics.
Here’s one.
When I was 10 I traded my cousin Greg all the money I had in the world (three dollars) for seven golden age comics he had found in an attic. Among those books were Superman #2, an All-Flash, a Captain Marvel and some others I don’t recall. I remember Superman #2 vividly because this was the age I started to trade comics and the number on the issues were very important to me and this was a Superman comic! I loved those comics, they were my most prized possession. I don’t think anything since has been able to match my pride of ownership for those books.
That year my mom sent my sister and me to Alabama for summer vacation. Yeah, send the little black kids from New York To Alabama for a vacation. That’s great. That’s like sending your dog to Michael Vick’s house for some exercise.
Well by some miracle we survived that summer and I survived the HORRIBLE wait to see my comics again. I am not kidding. I LOVED those books and because they contained Superman #2 I was BMITH (Big man in the hood).
Before I go on I should mention that the way we got to Alabama was by car. Yep, two days and two nights in the back seat with my SISTER! So when we finally got back to the states, (to us Alabama was like ‘Nam) I made a bee-line for my room and my beloved stack of Golden Age joy! The moment I entered my room I knew there was a problem. I could see my floor! For any 10 year to be able to see their room’s floor is a terrible omen of dire things to come. Where were my toys? Where were my baseball cards?
WHERE WERE MY COMICS??
I asked Jean. (That’s my mom. Yes, I call my mom Jean. It’s a hood thing you wouldn’t understand.)
Jean!
What?
Where are my comics?
In the dresser, that’s where you put stuff, you know?
Frankly, I didn’t know that. The floor always worked for me.
I found the drawer with my comics but my prize golden age comics WERE NOT THERE!
JEAN!!
What?
Where are my other comics?
What other comics?
The ones I kept on my bed!! (Yes on the bed, where they were within easy reach if I woke up and needed the comfort of Captain Marvel, Flash or Superman)
I threw them away!
When I picked myself off the floor I realized that I had to be dreaming. So I asked again but this time I was taking no chances.
Oh, mother dear?
You talking to me?
Yes mother, would you know where my comics are that were on my bed?
I told you I threw them away!
YOU DID WHAT? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?
They were old.
YES THEY WERE OLD!! THAT WAS THE POINT!!!
Are you yelling at me?
Ever see any of those Nanny shows on TV? Super Nanny or Nanny 911? Here’s something you may have noticed: no black kids are ever on that show. Here’s why. My mother would have shot my sister and I if we acted like some of those kids. OK, I’m exaggerating a bit. She would have shot us…but in the leg.
I was mad but I was not stupid so I shut up.
Fast forward to Christmas Eve that same year. My mother was watching the news when a report on Superman #1 selling for over one hundred thousand dollars was broadcast.
My mother laughed and asked me in if I had Superman #1. I didn’t, but to me Superman #2 was close enough so I said I used to.
She stopped laughing.
What did you say?
I used to.
WHAT HAPPENED TO IT??
You threw it away.
My mother never threw away another comic book and gave me $20 as an additional Christmas gift to buy some more.
That was a good Christmas.
Michael Davis is a comics creator and the founder of the Guardian Line series of comics as well as being a television producer and writer. He was a co-founder of Milestone Comics and his artwork has appeared in Wasteland, Green Arrow: Shado, Green Hornet and The Question, among others.
WOW! A clean floor after a vacation as a child was definitely a nightmare for me too. Good article, I feel your pain.
I found a stash of comics in the barn at my uncle's farm in the mid 60's. All were from the 40's: Batman #7 (the coolest one), some Detective comics, early Daredevils (the red and blue 40's guy), a couple Flashes, about 20 in all. A couple years later I failed an art class (nun for a teacher, I was a smart ass, failed more for behavior than the work). My dad, being a teacher, had no tolerance for failure…so I knew something horrible was coming. He said he was going to throw all my comics in the incinerator (ecology wasn't a big issue in 1966). I raced upstairs to hide what I could (a few marvels, including Spidey #1, a few JLAs), but before I could stash the golden age comics, my dad grabbed them and brought them to the basement and tossed them in the incinerator. POOF!…they were gone. The worst part was that I had to empty the incinerator tray and could see charred remains of the comics. About 35 years later, my dad apologized for over-reacting, but until that point he had denied even doing it. Nowadays, I probably would just have gotten a time-out.
Remind me to tell you the story about how my entire collection was SOLD from a storage space because I reported my credit card stolen…AGGGGGGGHHHHH!!!
This reminds me of the spirit of the season: that the things around us all die, mostly around this time of year. The loss of things and people and the harbinger of our own doom is so terrifying that the G*ds have sent us the message that it isn't real, that the world will grow and bloom again, that we and our family and our friends and our treasured things are never lost, that they have a special, eternal life within us all. Thanks, Michael, for everything, and Merry Christmas to all.