Contributed by Overstreet Advisor and collector Jason Versaggi.

There are people who don’t understand my collecting. They have no idea why I’m addicted to what I’m addicted to. My drug of choice is comic books and comic art; I can’t explain it. I was drawn to superheroes as a kid and never completely grew up. The fantastic stories, the costumes, superhuman abilities and out of this world locales all just mesmerized me. Collecting these things was done as a kid, in the safety of home and they were done with the encouragement of my parents. My Dad took me to conventions, stores, and anywhere that might have comic books. He had the collecting bug as well. So for me, all those comics took me home. The way a comic might feel or look and the yet-to-be bottled smell of that paper. It is a tactile hobby that reaches 60% of the senses. I’ve never tried it but if I ate paper I assume it could tick off one more.

There are many approaches to collecting but all of us who are collectors have one thing in common. We’ve all experienced the one that got away. A mistake we made or something we let slip through our fingers for any number of reasons. But, sometimes…sometimes…they come back.

It was what I’m sure was a warm summer day in 1986 and my family was where we always were on summer vacation: Lake George, NY. We loved it there and loved going back again and again. It was another home in the memories that my parents made for my sister, brother, and myself.

Having been aware of comics from 8 or 10 years of age, I loved to read them, but it wasn’t until I was about 12 that I started collecting. I didn’t know you could collect them until my parents got me a book called Comic Book Collecting for Fun and Profit by Mike Benton. In the first chapter, the author relates a story of how he and his friends were driving along a backcountry road trying to track down a barn sale and when they came upon it they walked the grounds as if they were pirates counting paces to find buried treasure. There was no “X” marking the spot when they found a horde of Golden Age comics but they knew they had discovered their find.

I was in awe. I wanted to unearth my own discovery (and in many ways, I am still trying to find that treasure map). On this day, however, in the newborn stage of my collecting I had no idea I was about to make a small find of my own. My Dad loved to go “antiquing” as if that were sport. As kids, we would often bemoan this activity as it meant spending what seemed like 7 hours in a hot car each time we stopped to check out a roadside antique store. It was never that bad, but all we wanted to do was get in the pool.

This day in 1986, we were on what qualified in my mind as a back road in Lake George when we saw a quaint ranch style farm house called Scherer’s Antiques. We pulled in and listened to the gravel crunch beneath the tires as we parked and I went inside with my Dad as the rest of the family waited in the car. Inside was like going back in time as antiques from the days of the dinosaur until just that day, appeared to be represented. Americana, Civil War relics, toys, furniture, jewelry, farm equipment, top hats, and even a miniature model castle that was used in a Hollywood movie. I didn’t think there would be but I asked anyway, “Do you have any comic books?” I was shocked when the owner shuffled along behind the counter and brought up two boxes for me to look through that were hidden from site.

Now I don’t recall all the comics that were there, but there was a fair amount of Dell because I remember rifling passed all the photo covers to find superhero titles. I wanted Silver Age Marvel comics because at 12 years old in 1986 that is all I wanted – and any Golden Age of course. I carefully thumbed through every issue – much to the chagrin of my Mom, sister, and brother ‒ of what was roughly 200 comics and pulled out the 10 to 12 I really wanted. There was a Batman #39, Action Comics #108, Daredevil #3, Avengers #8, Captain Marvel Adventures #72, World’s Finest #27, Blackhawk #94, an issue of Detective Comics, and Captain America Comics #70.

There were a few other comics that have gone from my memory forever including some Disney comics but how could I decide between this selection? My Dad, who always taught me to work for what I wanted and to use my hobby to fund itself looked the other way this time around and just bought these all for me to start me on my way. I loved these books and before we got back to the hotel room for me to pour over these, we stopped at a B. Dalton’s book store and I plucked out the first Overstreet Comic Book Price Guide I ever read – the silver Marvel 25th Anniversary cover.

In the hotel room, I tuned everything else out, pool included, and researched my find. A find I thought would be commonplace. I found all but one listing: Captain America Comics #70. I looked, but the series only started listing values beginning with issue 100. Yes, that is how new I was to the hobby. I didn’t know Captain America Comics was an entirely different series. I thought Captain America #100, which was continuing the Tales of Suspense numbering, was 30 issues after the Captain America #70 I was staring at.

I did a lot of staring at that cover. It was the most memorable book in the lot to me because it had the huge Cap image with Martian spaceships invading Earth! I didn’t know it was a key sci-fi cover or that it was very off-topic for Cap and that it was at the end of the run where superheroes were riding off into the sunset having no more Axis troops to fight. All I knew was that it was an old Captain America Comic. I also did not know how to grade comics at this time but I did note this particular issue had some really distinctive defects. It was a very sharp looking book even to my uneducated graders eyes but it had a shark bite out of the bottom front cover and a slightly larger shark bit out of the bottom back cover. How did that happen? I wondered. The rest of the book looked great. Well, no matter, I just loved reading it, looking at it, and smelling it, and I loved that I had found something. I also loved that my Dad had gotten it for me and was so interested in the fact that I was so interested in it.

I learned as I went along and my collection grew with my collecting ability. I found out what I liked and pursued those collecting goals. I always remembered the edict of making your collection pay for itself so it was about 6-7 years later as I was winding down on collecting seriously to go to college that I sold those books or traded them for a Silver Age Marvel key because that is where my true collecting passion was. I was a dumb kid and thought I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Not that the deal I did was foolish. I just wish I would have done anything but give up that first find. It wasn’t right away but as the years went on I had such pangs of remorse for giving up those comics. I missed them. I missed being home.

I wound up converting almost all of my comic collection to original comic art but I always had those comics and Scherer’s Antiques in my thoughts. There were other antique stores but there were no other finds like that. Not since 1986. I even went back to Scherer’s as an adult with my twin daughters waiting for me in the car but the place was boarded up and had just been sold. You can’t go home again.

After my Dad passed away in 2012 I wondered if I would continue collecting. I had gone away from the hobby and came back a few times because life always got in the way of administering care to the collecting affliction. I did continue collecting seriously because of the nostalgia. For all those times my Dad took me to places where we counted paces to that buried treasure only to find it had already been moved. To all those cons haggling with dealers over comics or to try and chat with Stan Lee. Together we also avoided capture from the legions of Klingons we came into contact with at each comic show. They were the best of times. And if I close my eyes I can always see those comics from my first find spread out on the hotel bed as I tried to find that listing for Captain America #70. I often wondered where my comics were. What became of them. Who owned them. If they even still existed. I wished to see them again.

I don’t go to comic cons anymore. Mostly, because I focus on collecting the art, but also because they don’t make them like they used to. Comic cons have become multimedia shows with more costumes and press releases than comics. I don’t even know why I was at the Baltimore Comic-Con. I live in Brooklyn and while my friend Nick raved about the show for its great comics selection and convinced me to go I thought it might have comic art. It didn’t, but it is a nice town and the Geppi’s Entertainment Museum is there. After the show on Friday back at the Hilton, I looked out the hotel room window on the 15th floor and noticed that it overlooked Camden Yards. I also noticed it was the exact section we sat in for an Orioles-Indians game we came to in 1992 when my Dad wanted to see the new stadium. We were right in left field among the Orioles faithful showering Albert Belle with expletive laden constructive criticism. It made me think of my Dad.

Saturday morning on our way to the convention center I mentioned to my buddy I saw some Golden Age Archie Comics at a booth and I would show him where since he collects Archie. On the way, he got the sticky eyes and stopped at another booth. I turned around to go collect him and found him whipping through a box of comics. I strolled around the booth and waited and looked up on the wall of comics at an All Winners Comics #1. This was always one of my favorite Golden Age comics. I loved that cover. I looked at the copy and read the notes for it on the CGC slab and placed it back sliding over the comic that was beside it to make it fit. I noticed the familiar white cover and spine of Captain America #70 and thought I used to own one of these. Not a common book to find in its own right. I took down the raw copy for old time’s sake and saw a shark bite on the bottom front cover.

I instantly asked if I could remove it, telling the caretaker at Bedrock City Comics as he gave me permission to do so, that there was another shark bite on the back cover. He asked me how I knew that.

“This is my copy,” I said. I was overcome with emotion and shaking as I thought about this comic book that I first held 31 years earlier and a comic book that I have not held or seen in 25 years. It was in the wind. Out there in the wild. I had no idea where I had sold it or traded it. I didn’t remember who or where it went. But a quarter century had gone by and the comic was probably less the worse for wear than I was. It looked just as I remembered it. And I thought of my Dad. My Dad, who if he were still alive would have gladly been at the comic show with me still trying to help me get some comics. In a very real way he was.

My friend and fellow collector Nick Katradis could not believe it. Even my sister, who hated sitting in the car waiting for me to come out with it those many years ago, said she remembered it after I texted a picture. My wife told me through tears on the phone, “Do not leave there without it.” The guys at Bedrock had a great story they would likely tell the rest of that con and for many cons to come. They were the beach on the uncharted island where the treasure was and seeing those shark bites I couldn’t help but think: “X marks the spot.”

As I left with my comic, having spent way more than I planned on and far more multiples than my Dad had paid the Scherer’s for it in 1986, it did not break my stride at all leaving Baltimore. I got to right a wrong. I got to be at a show with my Dad once more. I was home again.