My life with comics began when I was about ten years old, sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the television. Each week, I watched Bill Bixby and Lou Ferrigno in The Incredible Hulk. That show didn’t just entertain me — it pulled me into the Marvel Universe and sparked a passion that would shape the way I experienced stories, heroes, and even the act of collecting itself.
Soon, I was chasing down comics wherever I could find them. Spinner racks in corner stores. Back issue bins at flea markets. Those early days weren’t about grades, conditions, or values — they were about wonder. Hulk smashing across the page, Spider-Man swinging through New York, Luke Skywalker and Han Solo brought to life in Marvel’s Star Wars adaptation.
A Collection in Phases
My comic book journey, like that of many collectors, has unfolded in distinct phases, each one shaping my relationship with the medium in different ways. It began with what I like to call the childhood spark. In those early years, I built up a core collection that included The Incredible Hulk, The Amazing Spider-Man, Web of Spider-Man, and Marvel’s original run of Star Wars. These titles were my entry points into the world of comics, and they opened a door to something far bigger than myself. Each issue felt like a passport to new adventures, making me feel as though I belonged to a vast universe of heroes, villains, and stories that mattered.
As I grew older, however, I entered the pause. When I reached college, collecting naturally slipped into the background. My longboxes traveled with me, but they became more like sealed time capsules than active companions. I still cared deeply about comics, but the demands of classes, work, and adult responsibilities took precedence. The passion didn’t disappear — it simply went dormant, waiting for the right moment to resurface.
That moment came years later with the return. When She-Hulk: Attorney at Law debuted, it reignited my love for comics in a way I hadn’t expected. Watching Jennifer Walters come to life on screen reminded me of everything I had first loved about the medium: the humor, the energy, the empowerment, and the creativity. It was as though the ember from my childhood spark was suddenly fanned into flame again. That was when I began cataloging my collection, diving back into long-forgotten boxes, and reconnecting with stories that had once defined my imagination. At the same time, I started collecting new issues, building a bridge between my past and present as a reader and a collector.
Cataloging Thousands of Issues
Today, I’m in the middle of a massive cataloging project. So far, I’ve only worked through part of my collection, and there are still about 2,500 comics waiting for their turn. It’s slow work, but it’s rewarding. Each time I log an issue, I’m not just recording a number and grade — I’m revisiting the excitement of when I first bought it.
Here are a few highlights from what I’ve cataloged so far:
- The Amazing Spider-Man, Vol. 1 — My run stretches from the late 1960s right through the early 1990s, including classics like Kraven’s Last Hunt (#293–294), “Gang War,” “Invasion of the Spider-Slayers,” and Venom’s first full appearance in Amazing Spider-Man #300 — slabbed at 9.6 NM+.
- Web of Spider-Man, Vol. 1 — Beginning with the 1985 debut, these issues carry my earliest childhood memories of collecting. They were among the first series I ever chased month to month.
- Star Wars, Vol. 1 (Marvel, 1977) — I once owned a slabbed copy of Star Wars #42 (part of the Empire Strikes Back adaptation), which I sold not long ago for $255. Letting it go wasn’t easy, but my connection to Star Wars has shifted since my youth. Even so, those early Marvel runs remain important markers in my journey.
- The Punisher, Vol. 1 (1986) — My collection includes Circle of Blood #1 slabbed at 9.0 and the remaining issues of the mini-series in raw condition. This was a bold and gritty corner of Marvel in the ’80s, and having it preserved in slabbed form makes it one of my prized pieces.
- She-Hulk — My She-Hulk boxes are some of my most meaningful. I’ve got The Savage She-Hulk #1 slabbed at 9.8, The Sensational She-Hulk run including milestone issues like #50, and the modern Sensational She-Hulk Vol. 2 variants that mark my return to active collecting.
- Red Sonja — Though I came to Sonja later, she has become one of my top characters to collect. My catalog spans her classic Marvel appearances and extends through Dynamite’s modern series, such as Red Sonja: Empire of the Damned and Red Sonja Attacks Mars.
- The Avengers and X-Men — I’ve built up strong late ’80s and early ’90s runs of The Avengers and Uncanny X-Men, including crossover arcs like “Inferno” and “The Collection Obsession.”
- Infinity Saga Classics — Complete runs of Infinity Gauntlet and Infinity War anchor my cosmic shelf, now sitting alongside new 2025 issues of Infinity Watch.
Slabbed Gems
One of the most rewarding parts of coming back to collecting has been building up a slabbed collection. These graded books aren’t just investments — they are touchstones, carrying both comic book history and my own personal story as a fan. Each slabbed issue is a reminder of why I fell in love with comics in the first place and why I continue to collect today.
Amazing Spider-Man #300 (9.6 NM+) is the crown jewel of my Spider-Man run, marking Venom’s first full appearance. It’s one of the most iconic issues of the late ’80s, and having it slabbed makes it a centerpiece of my collection.
Savage She-Hulk #1 (9.8 NM/M) represents the debut of Jennifer Walters, and it has special meaning for me since She-Hulk: Attorney at Law is what reignited my passion for collecting. Seeing this book preserved in perfect condition feels like a full-circle moment.
Punisher #1 (1986, Circle of Blood) (9.0 VF/NM) kicks off Frank Castle’s most defining storyline. This slab embodies Marvel’s darker shift during the ’80s and stands as one of the books that reshaped how readers viewed the antihero.
Alpha Flight #106 (9.8 NM/M) is more than just a superhero story — it’s a landmark issue in Marvel history, one of the first to spotlight LGBTQ+ representation in mainstream comics. Owning it in slabbed condition feels like honoring a turning point in the medium.
Star Trek: The Next Generation Vol. 2 #1 (9.2 NM–) is another highlight. Published in 1989, it captured the energy of The Next Generation at its cultural peak, and having it slabbed is like holding a piece of both comic and television history. For me, it blends two lifelong fandoms — comics and Star Trek — into one preserved artifact.
Star Wars #2 (1977, 5.5 Fine–) and Star Wars #68 (1983, 7.0 Fine/VF) are personal treasures because they take me back to my earliest days as a collector. Even though I recently sold my slabbed copy of Star Wars #42, which was bittersweet, I still hold onto these as reminders of how central Star Wars once was to my childhood collecting years.
Each slabbed comic is more than a grade on a label — it’s a milestone in my journey. Together, they form the cornerstones of my collection, anchoring my longboxes full of raw issues with books that embody both comic book history and deeply personal meaning.
The Ebb and Flow of Fandom
Parting with my slabbed copy of Star Wars #42 was a moment that reminded me just how personal collecting really is. That issue, tied to The Empire Strikes Back, had been with me for years, and while I was able to sell it for $255, the decision wasn’t just about the money. It was about acknowledging how my relationship with Star Wars has changed since my youth. When I was younger, those comics felt like the center of the universe — every new issue was a direct extension of the films I loved. Over time, though, my passion for the galaxy far, far away shifted, and I realized that holding on to certain books didn’t carry the same emotional weight they once did. Letting it go was difficult, but it also reaffirmed what really drives my collecting: not the dollar value or rarity of a book, but its resonance in my own life.
That sense of resonance is what guides me now. The comics I keep close are the ones that continue to matter — whether they tap into nostalgia, reflect meaningful representation, or deliver a story arc that struck me at just the right moment. It’s not about filling boxes with every issue ever printed, but about curating a collection that tells my story through theirs.
That’s why my collection today feels like a living timeline. It bridges past and present in a way that’s almost tangible. I can hold Spawn #1 (1992), a relic of the early ’90s boom that defined so much of my teenage years, in one hand, and a brand-new Spider-Verse vs. Venomverse (2025) in the other, fresh off the shelves. I can revisit the cosmic battles of Infinity Gauntlet from 1991, reliving the awe I felt the first time Thanos snapped his fingers, while also keeping up with the latest saga of Immortal Thor, a reminder that the Marvel Universe is still evolving and surprising me after all these years. Each pairing — old and new, nostalgic and current — shows me that comics aren’t just static collectibles. They are milestones, markers in the journey of my own life, stories that have grown and changed right alongside me.
Looking Forward
With thousands of comics still waiting to be cataloged, my collection is far from fully documented. But that’s part of the fun. Each longbox I open is a journey back through time — to my childhood excitement, to my college pause, to my modern revival.
Collecting comics has always been more than just a hobby. It’s a lifelong conversation with stories, characters, and the kid in me who once sat wide-eyed watching The Incredible Hulk. That kid is still here — only now, she has slabbed treasures, longboxes full of history, and a future of new issues still to collect.
The recent announcement from the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) that gender-affirming health care will be excluded from the Federal Employees Health Benefits (FEHB) and Postal Service Health Benefits (PSHB) programs beginning in 2026 represents a profound step backward in civil rights and health equity. Under this directive, chemical and surgical interventions for gender transition will no longer be covered, though counseling for gender dysphoria must remain available. Insurance carriers are required to develop exceptions processes for individuals currently undergoing such care, yet the parameters of those processes remain undefined. Providers of gender-affirming care are also barred from being listed in plan directories, effectively discouraging access (Office of Personnel Management, 2025; Moss, 2025).