ME AND MY PAL JOE part one

I was talking to Marc Mason the other day, trying to figure out what to make of this alleged interview column while we wait for the interview answers to come in. Always a pillar of wisdom, Marc suggested I talk a little bit about G.I. Joe; how it’s affected my life, where the experience has taken me and what the future might hold. Over the course of this two-or-three part column feature, I’m even going to reveal a secret about my writing in relation to G.I. Joe… a secret that I have never revealed before to anyone…and I can almost guarantee that it will make you believe in the power of destiny.

I should note, for context, that the G.I. Joe license is no longer with Devil’s Due Publishing, my former employer. The new license holder has not been officially announced, but all rumors point to either IDW or Marvel Comics. I’ve made my desire to return to the Joe-verse clearly and widely known, but as of this writing I don’t know who has the license and my future with the franchise remains uncertain.

Okay, let’s start from the beginning: I bought my first G.I. Joe figure at a K-Mart in Manhattan. Kansas. The year was 1982. The figure was the laser-rifle trooper, code-named “Flash,” and he was the gateway purchase that would lead to a lifelong devotion. I’ve kicked the habit a few times, but I always come back; there’s just something about this particular fantastic universe that resonates with me.

I was the lame kid who had mountains of coveted toys that I never let out of the house. I simply could not condone the neighborhood population’s desire to use firecrackers, mud-holes and slingshots to harm my pristine, well-maintained action figure collection; I was far more interested in setting up a gigantic battle in my bedroom and returning the toys to their appointed shelves when it was over. I had respect for these little plastic soldiers, and no amount of peer pressure would ever sway my devotion.

G.I. Joe dominated my toy buying, comic collecting and TV viewing. Every scrap of allowance money fell to the pursuit of massive armies and stacks of floppy, four-color adventure books. Larry Hama, naturally, was a major influence on my adventures, but my own imagination certainly had its say when playing out the massive conflict that would erupt almost daily behind my bedroom door. I was so involved with this epic adventure that I even kept notes in an effort to keep my own continuity straight.

I was a hardcore fanatic from 1982 to May of 1989, two weeks before my 16th birthday. I know this because the date in question refers to a Very Important Event in a young man’s life, the one that makes you realize that there are greater victories hiding under a short skirt than there will ever be in the halls of a Cobra Terror-Drome.

I had succumbed to the pressure of young adulthood, and I felt as if there was no turning back. A line had to be drawn in the sad, a clear division established between the boy and the man…

…and that is exactly why I gave away every single piece of my immense, well-preserved G.I. Joe collection to the three Mormon kids next door. I felt as if I’d turned a corner in my life – I was over that childhood obsession for good and for real.

Little did I realize that destiny had other plans…

LOOK FOR PART TWO IN THE NEXT ISSUE OF CWR!

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