Later in the day, Julián wrote to me again to say that he'd come across another letter, this one from Amazing #82. Some months have passed, I'm now fifteen— embarrassingly so—and filled to the brim with the 60's ideals that, for better or worse, still infuse my personal philosophy, and my work, in many ways. (I just express them a little more eloquently now: for one thing, I stopped saying "dig it" at least six months ago and I only shout "give peace a chance" on John Lennon's birthday.)
I wrote to many Marvel comics in the following years—and kept on writing till I was in my early twenties (my last published letter was in an issue of Master of Kung Fu, simultaneously singing the praises of Doug Moench and Jack Kerouac)—but I'd love to go back in time, tap that fourteen year old on the shoulder and say, "Pssst. Kid. I know you're not gonna believe this, but one day you'll be writing Amazing Spider-Man!" I'd love to see Little Marc's jaw drop and his eyes bug out and then I'd like to give him a hug and tell him to keep chasing his dreams—because they really do come true.
Thanks for the trip down Memory Lane, Julián.