Hey Mr. Sandman…

In high school, I got hooked on Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics. It was one of the few luxuries I afforded myself. When each new issue would come out, I would take it back to my dorm room, plop onto my bed, and savor the story. Ten years ago, when my uncle Patrick passed away I inherited his comic book collection. My mom and Aunt Debbie decided that since I was the only other one in the family who’d ever collected comics, I would like them. At the time, it had been years since I had bought a new comic. Though there were some amazing comics in the collection – old X-Men from the 1970’s and 1980’s, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. For the time being, I put them in a box under my bed, nestled among my old copies of Sandman. Over the years, I have moved my comics with me as I have moved from place to place. They currently reside in my basement in a plastic bin.

Last night, my friend Joel invited me to see Neil Gaiman speak in New Hampshire. The venue, the Portsmouth Music Hall, was gorgeous. It was an old, creaky auditorium with beautiful wide, wooden floorboards. You don’t often find that kind of charm in today’s newer auditoriums.

It was a phenomenal experience. Gaiman was witty, down-to-earth, and absolutely hilarious. After spending about 30 minutes reading from his book, American Gods, Gaiman was interviewed by New Hampshire Public Radio’s Virginia Prescott. The banter was both entertaining and intellectual – a delightful combination. (The interview will be posted here.)

I couldn’t help but buy a signed copy of American Gods. I am looking forward to reading it; I might even have to go downstairs and dig out my old copies of Sandman.