My broad & deep knowledge of silver age superhero comics has become, at long last, something besides a Scarlet Letter setting me apart from polite society.
My nephew Alec is recently obsessed with classic Spider Man comics & was a bottomless well of questions on his menagerie of enemies (Kraven the Hunter, Mysterio, the Vulture, the Ringmaster & his Circus of Crime)& the classic Marvel standbys who populated his early adventures (Iron Man, the X-Men, Daredevil, The Hulk). I was happy to play Watcher, providing answers to all of his questions about powers, origins and motivations.
It was also interesting for me, because as a child I absolutely hated Spidey co-creator Steve Ditko's art. But like that other titan of modern comics Jack Kirby, I find my advancing age & disintegrating industry standards make him look better all the time.
Alec is a combination of brilliance & mania that in an adult would have you questioning whether he was madman or genius, Rasputin or Einstein.
But at seven years old, it's just a boy being a boy.
My educational efforts were amply rewarded by the wife's cousin, Helen, who's idea of throwing a meal together at the last minute is a big pile of perfectly marinated & grilled flank steak complimented with a salad of baby spinach & a basket of giant, fluffy biscuits.
And for desert?
Chocolate/chocolate chip bundt cake from scratch.
WINNAR.
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