We were having a picnic, the late summer, ’93, a milestone barbecue birthday. None of us had to cook, which is no small thing when you’re all in the food business, mobile concessions with hot flattop grills and fryers throwing off wavy lines and bad skin.
There was a tent in the yard with circus stripes, yellow and white like a hard-boiled egg. My friend Dwayne, who was called Bubba, brought the October solicits from the comic book shop.
Batman #500 was gonna be big. New costume, new bat-#&%! and broken jawn under the hood. The Knightfall arc was long and exhausting, for Bruce and for us. 500 was the payoff, the resolution, the all-new Batman in an era when all-new anything came with variant covers, pre-boarded and bagged, everything die cut and metallic. I think Cable #1, with its hologram cover, came out the day of the party. Comics were events, and huge stories were everywhere.
I was reminded of all this today by a post from Graphic Policy looking back on the milestone Batman issue. It’s hard to believe everything from 1993 will be 25 this year, things like the death of Superman and Batman #500. Me turning thirteen, my Dad turning 40.
You only have to write one true sentence, Hemingway said. I’m trying to write one true sentence a day.