Author's Note: This was written a few moments after I found out that Stan Lee had died. It took me this long to post this because of a hard drive crash that destroyed not only my design programs but, about eighteen years of art, music and writing.
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Stan Lee died today. And I feel that one of my many wonderful, wisdom filled teachers is gone. I want to dramatically say that one of my parents is gone but, that is going a bit too far. But, the influence and gravity he had upon me feels that full and heavy.
When I was in my most painful moments as a child, I had a hiding place. I called it My Closet. This hiding place was under a 70's technicolor, red-white-blue Formica laminated, bed headboard-table combo that my bed rolled underneath. This created a sort of couch to sit on when the bed was pushed in all the way. If the bed was pulled all the way out, you could crawl inside the headboard-table. The Closet formed when you pulled the bed in while still inside the headboard-table.
Camouflaged as child furniture, if you were super still and whisper quiet, a Monster could never know you were in your room, alone and safe with your favorite, hard bled to have, things. My well read comics, my stolen library books and my scratchy record albums. Several big boxes(sharpener included) worth of Crayola beeswax in various states of nubs and newness for use exclusively on paper(sometimes) and walls(a lot more). My Star Wars figures and my most punishable contraband; My Barbies.
If the bed was pushed all the way in, there was a little gap where I could store my most treasured things without being discovered or crushed. Of these treasures, my most worn and beloved one was a record album titled "Spider-Man - From Beyond The Grave - A Rockomic featuring The Spinnerettes" published by Buddha Records. The cover was drawn by John Romita, which has a fold out Spider-Man poster and comic strips for the tracks of the album. The voice of Peter Parker and Spider-Man was none other than René Auberjonois of Benson and Star Trek: DS9 fame.
"Sane...insane...loved...hated...it doesn't matter...a man might quit...but Spider-Man is more than a man...I'm a super hero!" - Peter Parker (Spider-Man - From Beyond The Grave)
Abuse's aftermath hungrily isolates. You crave safety ravenously. The Monster destroys all boundaries of innocence, wonder and clarity. Claws flash and slash until red does splash. What is left is a betrayal of all your humanity. It worm riddles your mind and soul with relentless shame, terrifying confusion and shattered trust. You are in free fall amidst the collapse of your inner light's dying star.
You seek outward while you hurtle inward.
I sought out comfort in stories. Books became literal, living friends. And you stole them from the library because the "eight book maximum check out" never made any sense at all. Hardcovers were leaves of fleece blankets brought to you by Willy Wonka, Shel Silverstien and King Max with those Wild Things. The Wind In The Willows shivered Charlotte's Web while Rikki-Tikki-Tavi pursued the cobra. Then I discovered Petey one day tucked accidentally, or with purpose, inside of one of my heavy novels. Do not forget that delinquents were the reason for The Comics Code to begin with. Stan fought that Code.
Those simple red, green, blue stories of Archie, Richie Rich, or Disney were not going to be able to reach. A bunch of conflicted, mutant, flawed New Yorkers in spandex tights could and did. I loved them all. All. Of. Them. Spidey, Dr. Strange, Daredevil, Hulk and the X-Men were my top five I followed for nearly three decades collecting. And The Bullpen Bulletins in all of them made me feel my first connection to this scattered tribe of people that I was somehow a member. Stan did those Bulletins intentionally because he knew that only True Believers were going to be the foundation of something extraordinary in the real world.
I met Stan Lee once, with Spider-Man. Had to be about five or six. I remember shaking his hand and telling him that I loved his jokes and stories in the Bullpen. He said, "Thanks friend! Good to see you!", flashing his toothy grin that so many now know so well. I squeaked and laughed when Spider-Man patted my head. I peed my good chocolate brown corduroy pants too. It was a long, four hour wait with no five year old potty break. The beating afterward seemed worth it. As my collection of Sun and Moon cheeks radiated smarting red, I practiced with my own patting hand upon that particular spot on my crown to mirror my memory of Spidey's kind gesture.
It was always in these moments that I wished to be Jean Gray and Magnus with a web shooter. The combination seemed to my then five year old brain, and even my several decades older one, the most powerful. Just imagine what justice you could enforce if you could control minds, manipulate metal into anything you needed and web things. How fun would it be to be driving on the highway, see another driver who is being careless and then, pick their car up vertically about fifteen feet which would then be flying at seventy miles per hour? Then, speak directly into their minds saying, "You should really show more care and respect for yourself and others. Thank you for flying with Sihn Starr Airways!", while placing them back down upon the pavement as gently as a mother's kiss. That's an adult me thought. Child Me thoughts were of Monster slaying and flaying.
Those characters that Stan Lee created are a part of my emotional first-aid kit. All of them outcasts, freaks of nature, with complex messages and relationships, and ways of thinking and interacting that were pure human. These stories were not and are still not "popcorn fodder", as much as Mickey The Rat And Company would want you to believe.
These stories and characters kept me alive and gave me a framework of morality that was missing from those who were my biologic kin. And for that, my heart is hurting that Stan Lee is gone. But, he left behind something inside my soul that I will forever be eternally grateful and a true believer in...
Hope and Love.
'nuff said.
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