...and so it goes...
It has been my story since i was eight. In a sense, things have recently come full circle for me.
It really started with Donald Duck in Volcano Valley, then a Big Little Book with comic book panels pasted one per page of that book. I remember keeping that book for years, and now quietly wonder if I gave it away.
Fifty years later, i get a copy of the Gladstone book from several years back and reread it.
It's in full color this time, and uncut as far as i can tell. It's pure Barks. Absurd and funny, and I found myself smiling at the gags pretty much like i did when i was eight. As an adult, i have finally recovered my love of funny books. I think it's a sign of a circle closing, as that big little book led to a life in pursuit of comics. Comics, with their sequential art, giving meaning to my mundane boring life and terrible childhood. I know my memories of my childhood are indeed, fragmented in comparison to my adult life.
But I remember every comic book I read.
The experience was always memorable.
