A sort of Homecoming

The wife is on her way home from Truckee, where she was in a one-day mini renaissance faire for the local middle school. Last night, she got to enjoy the fellowship of friends not seen and to teach kids. THe only things that would make it perfect would be if she were to fly a small plane, and maybe me there as well. In the past twenty four hours, I have enjoyed things that my wife doesn’t enjoy, so I forgo them.

I wished she would have stayed another night and gotten some rest, and some more fun with her friends. I would miss her, but I would rather her miss her than mourn her. The roads from the Bay to Truckee are twist and turn with on the sides of mountains, so there’s little room for error. Fortunately, she’s not driving alone, so it won’t be too bad.

In a couple weeks, the dirklings come down for the Summer. I miss them as well; it’s a dull ache, a sense of loss similar to the death in the family.
Watching X-Men again. I think one of it’s biggest appeal is seeing childhood friends in the real world. As a kid, I loved the Hulk, he was big and strong and child-like. Didn’t uunderstand why he was so mad at a world that hated him. Wolverine was cool to the young teenager, all rage and the struggle to contain it. John Byrne drew the X-Mane at the time, he helped steer Wolverine fromjust being a reckless hothead to being more of a Clint Eastwood kind of character, the Man With a Past and the Demons to show for it.

Over the years, Wolverine and the X-Men have faded in and out of my consciousness. The ebb and flow of my life making comics a kind of love/hate relationship. Nowadays, comics, or Sequential Art as some would have it, are finally being afforded some well-deserved respect. Now, I’ve introduced them to the kids, as a way to foster reading and more importantly, as friends of mine.