Let me tell you who's not a "real American hero".

There's no point to the following story, really. I just happened to remember it earlier this afternoon...

When I was about 7 or 8, there was this older kid who lived on my block. Having been taught to respect my elders, I looked up to the guy - or maybe I was just easily influenced and I thought he was cool. Anyway... one day he convinced me to trade my highly-treasured copy of the first issue in the G.I. Joe comic book series for... a pack of bubble gum. To this day, I still think of myself as quite the fool for having been so easily played. The comic meant something to me. Still does... even if it isn't worth relatively much to collectors today. But the temporary enjoyment of the bubble gum ended long ago. Even more, I have no recollection of the boy with whom I traded.

Mom... dad... I don't think you knew this story. I was probably too embarrassed to tell you what a fool I thought I had been at the time. I may not have even chewed any of the bubble gum in protest of my own poor decision-making ability... or perhaps because I wanted the gum to last as long as I knew the comic book would have. But there's a part of me that wishes I still had that comic book. There were memories... there was a history... there's a part of my childhood that's all wrapped up in those pages. Sure, I've managed to live a fine life since the loss of my first issue of G.I. Joe: A Real American Hero. But it'd be nice to go back... make that one tiny decision all over again with so many more years of wisdom under my belt. Trade a part of my childhood? For a pack of gum?! No way.