Snikt.

Snikt.

I cannot remember a time when I didn't have a comic book in my hand.  I was introduced to the medium very early.  Between my mom giving the random Spider-Man, Richie Rich, and Archie comics then the family friend who gave me my early collection, my youth has always had superheroes in it.  They sparked my interest in art as well as helped develop my literary skills.  I still credit comic books, especially The Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe, for my reading and comprehension.  But I was really it for the characters.  The grand stories, the more personal tales, and everything in-between.

One of the first books I gravitated to was Marvel’s “The Uncanny X-Men.”  They were “mutants,” people born with special powers and were often outcasts from the rest of humanity.  These heroes were trained, usually starting in their teens, to use their powers and then to protect others.  The X-Men fought other mutants, bigoted humans, and other threats to humanity.  It was the “outcast” element that brought me over to them.  The fact they have awesome powers and used one of the greatest planes ever created (a modified SR-71 Blackbird) didn’t stop others from fear and hatred.  I often felt that despite how nice I could be and how I rather talk about superheroes, Star Wars, and whatever latest action figure was out, it wouldn’t stop people from having issues with me or my feeling like an odd duck.  This kinship started three decades plus friendship.

I didn’t have a clear favorite at first.  The X-Men had a wide spectrum of characters and so many cool powers.  Cyclops could shoot ruby red concussion beams from his eyes, often using geometry to angle his blasts to make them ricochet off various surfaces with the power to level parts of a mountain or gently move a pool ball.  However he couldn’t control his power and if he didn’t have his special goggles on the beams would fire uncontrollably.  Storm was a mutant who could control the weather, at one point losing her powers with a device invented by a lover.  This “weakness” only made her stronger.  Nightcrawler looked the part of a demon as he could teleport with his signature “bamf” and ability to blend into darkness.  Nightcrawler has the heart of a swashbuckler of old and is one of the nicest people who will meet.

Soon I found “my guy,” Wolverine.  The Wolverine.  Logan was a man of mystery.  No one knew how old he was or his origin.  We did know he was a soldier in various wars and did train in the martial arts.  Logan is deeply devoted into the Bushido Code (my first introduction) and modeled himself after the Samurai of old.  Wolverine has a healing factor, his mutant ability, he is able to heal from nearly any injury.  His senses are super humanly strong much like an animal and from his arms three claws are housed.  His bones are covered with adamantium, a fictional metal that is unbreakable.  Wolverine’s foot long claws are also covered with this material as well.  With his healing factor, his unbreakable bones & claws, as well as his fighting skills, Wolverine is one of the most feared combatants in the Marvel Universe. 

But with all of this going for him, Wolverine has a weakness.  Like all good heroes, Logan’s Achilles heel is related to his strength.  Wolverine’s berserker rage.  At times Wolverine will get caught up in his anger and go into a fury that evokes fear in his enemies as well as his allies.  The healing factor has also been a problem for Wolverine.  At times Wolverine's overconfidence allowed himself to get hurt beyond the point his healing factor can help him, pushing himself and his powers to the limits at times hurt Logan in fights  Pushing himself to the limits is what makes Wolverine a formidable warrior.  However he has many times rushed into a situation or underestimated an opponent and found himself in deep waters.

This is why Wolverine and I connected.

“Sensitive.”

“Sensitive” was often used as code for anything other than the definition meaning.  “Sensitive” was used as code for things like “soft,” “weak,” “punk,” lame,” a term used when you didn’t want to out and out call someone “gay.”  I was never an aggressive young person, I’d rather play with my action figures or read than do anything else.  Back in the 1980s, it wasn’t the norm or expected to show any sort of feelings other than what stereotypically ones boys “should” display.

So I was the young guy who was that “sensitive” at times.  Call it a high level of empathy or call it what you want, I figured I was just a child attuned with my Inner Self at an early age.  Add that to the teasing over my name, being quiet, reading comics, the way I talked (the dreaded “talking White”), I often lead with my emotions.  Sometimes that leads with mixed results.  Elementary school was a great time.  It wasn’t until middle school where everything fell apart.