When I was a kid, my father used to take my older sister and me to 'the green striped store' once a week and give us each a dollar to buy comic books. I can remember getting to buy five each (which should date me!). Oddly enough I don’t remember the ones I used to buy, probably because I read them to shreds and they ended up, after a suitably long time under my bed, in the garbage. But I remember the ones my sister had. She was OCD about keeping them looking new, organizing them, and keeping them away from me. She had more success in the first two tasks than she had in the last.
