The Great GG

My great-grandfather Stanley Dobrinski always said losing yourself in the pages of a comic book was one of the greatest pleasures in life. He died two weeks ago today; he was 92 years old.

I remember pouring over comic books with him when I was a kid. His collection was amazing with some of the comics dating as far back as the late 1930s. We were in our own world, reading the stories, comparing his comic books to mine, sharing our mutual passion and enjoying every second of it.

My parents named me after him, and as comic book fans named Stanley, we both had a special affinity for Stan Lee. Despite my parents' misgivings, great-grandfather took me to Comic-Com one year to meet the legend. It’s still the best trip I’ve ever taken.

But I think my favorite memory is the rainy afternoon when we drew superhero pictures of each other. I’d made him look like the Hulk, but he was blue instead of green. He was about to smash my screaming sister and cousins with his huge fists, and I’d dubbed him “The Great GG”. I was only 8 years old, so it’s no surprise that “GG” stood for great-grandfather.

From that day on I always called him GG. I think he liked my special name for him as much as I did.

Once I started high school, I spent less and less time with GG. A trend that unfortunately continued up until his death.

God, I treasure the time we had together.

It’s so rare to find a kindred spirit and having one in your own family is nothing short of miraculous. He’s the only person who made me feel like I belonged and that what I thought mattered. He was the most amazing man I’ve ever known. 

At GG’s funeral services, all I heard from people was that I was exactly like him. Not just because I’d been named after him, but because we apparently misspent our lives with our noses buried in the pages of comic books.

“What a waste,” said great-uncle Joe.

“Neither of you grounded in reality,” added great-aunt Mabel as she rolled her eyes.

“Just think of all the time you’ll never get back,” sighed grandma Dobrinski.

“Grow up and throw those comic books away,” my father chimed in.

“Oh #2, you were … actually still are … this generation’s family freak,” sneered my sister as my cousins nodded and snickered. When we were kids, they’d nicknamed GG and me ‘comic geek freaks #1 and #2’. Shortening my nickname to just '#2' took on another meaning as we got older.

A few days after GG’s funeral, the family gathered for the reading of his will. As expected, nearly everything went to my grandfather and great-uncle Joe, but there were a few personal items he left to other family members, including a large box for me.

The lawyer said great-grandfather’s instructions were for me to open it when I was by myself, and what was inside was mine alone. I saw the looks that passed between some of the others as they wondered what I’d been given and if they should question my right to it. I ignored them.

Later that afternoon, I sat on my living room sofa and set the carton on the coffee table in front of me. For a few minutes I just stared at the top of the box where GG had written one of his favorite Stan Lee quotes. “Comic books to me are fairy tales for grown-ups.”

My fingers traced the words, then I slowly opened the carton and saw the drawing of GG as a superhero I’d done all those years ago. I couldn’t believe he’d kept it.

Trying to keep my emotions in check, I carefully removed the drawing and found a handwritten note expressing his love and letting me how much he’d enjoyed our time together. He was thankful someone else in the family appreciated comic books as much as he did, and reiterated I was the only one he wanted to have what was inside this box.

GG left me his entire comic book collection.

I knew he had some old comics, but I didn’t realize just how many of them he'd collected back in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s.

As a kid, it never occurred to me they could be valuable. I guess I wondered about it occasionally as I got older, but it was our mutual love for the comic books, the characters and the stories that mattered. I would never have asked to look at his comics to see what they were worth.

I remember watching an episode of the Antiques Roadshow a few years back. A woman brought in a 'Superman #7' and an 'Action Comics #31'. They were appraised at between $7,500.00 and $12,000.00. GG’s collection is full of comic books like them.

The biggest shock of all was the nearly perfect copy of 'Action Comics #1' dated June of 1938. To a comic book collector, this is like finding the holy grail. It’s considered the first ever superhero comic, it marks the first appearance of Superman, and it’s arguably the most valuable comic book in the world. A copy in similar condition sold for over $3.2 million in 2014.

Under all the comic books, GG had placed his rainy day drawing of me as a superhero. He’d made me into a miniature version of Superman and called me SuperDuper#2er. It was a definite jab at the nicknames my sister and my cousins had given us, but more importantly it was a nod to the name we shared. The logo he drew on my chest was SD2; the second Stanley Dobrinski.

I picked up GG’s superhero drawing and as the tears rolled down my face, I realized there were three more things in the carton.

One was an autographed picture of Stan Lee from our Comic-Con trip that he’d made out to “The comic geek freaks #1 and #2”.

The second was a photograph of the two of us with Mr. Lee.

At the very bottom of the box, was another drawing GG had done himself. 

He’d drawn a smiling Stan Lee with his arms around the two of us, depicted as the superhero versions of ourselves. Below the drawing he’d written a note.

When asked if digital comics would replace printed comic books, Stan Lee replied “Comic books are like boobs … they look great on a computer, but I’d rather hold one in my hand.” Amen to that!

Not too bad for an old comic geek freak, eh?

Hope “The Great GG’s” collection helps you have an extra-amazing life my SD2. Comic-on!