There’s a line from a movie… I’m going to butcher it, but essentially its this. When you fall down a lot, you start looking at your feet and you forget to look forward.

My life has always been difficult. Nothing has ever been easy, normal or without pain. When your life is like that, you adopt that mindset. Sometimes I forget that I’ve occasionally been blessed to see and do things that enter the realm of the extraordinary. I’ve had moments in life that require you to stop and appreciate what a wonder the world can be.

But then life goes on and you become complacent, until the universe gives you a little reminder.

I had one such reminder this past weekend.

One of my closest friends, artist Travis Hymel, introduced me to Tom Grummett at a comic book convention.

If you aren’t a huge comic book fan, you might have walked past him and just thought he was an unassuming older gentleman drawing at his table. You might not realize you were walking past a legend. Mr Grummett is one of the greatest artists of the 1990s, a decade know for its fair share of unbelievable artists. He stands among the very best and has inspired leagues of artists in the decades since. He’s also that rare artist who hasn’t lost a step, thirty years later.

For me personally, he was the artist that made me start reading DC comics. At that time, he was working on two major books simultaneously, Superboy and Robin. Two characters that are still beloved to this day. He actually co-created that version of Superboy, Conner Kent. His art was like nothing Marvel was producing at the time. This was the era when flashy art styles were dominant. Mr. Grummett’s beautiful, cartoony and effortlessly smooth linework was a breath of fresh air. They brought characters like Tim Drake, the new Boy Wonder, to life. For most of us, Tim Drake became our new favorite character.

When Mr. Grummett greeted Travis, it wasn’t a simple pleasantry. He was genuinely happy to see him and talked with him about how the convention had been going. After a few minutes, Travis could sense my anxious anticipation and made the introduction. And again, he passed more than a simple pleasantry to a stranger and talked with me for a few minutes. Travis invited him and his wife Nancy to dinner that night and they gladly accepted.

That was actually why I went with him to the convention. I didn’t think they would go for it, but on the off-chance the Grummetts went to dinner with them, I wanted to be there.

Later that night we met them at a well-known local seafood restaurant downtown. The Grummetts had never been to New Orleans before. They live in Northern Canada, so we invited them to try more local fare such as alligator and boudin. They actually loved it.

There were about nine of us with them, the eldest among us being about thirty years their junior. They youngest were two teenagers. Though the Grummetts were too humble to realize it, they were holding court.

We sat for over an hour listening to their stories. And not just their stories about meeting legends such as Jack “the King” Kirby, Will Eisner and Moebius. The best stories were about their life together.

You see, Tom Grummett’s best asset isn’t his prodigious talent. It’s Nancy.

Even the friendliest comic book artist tends to be an introvert. They’re solitary creatures who work alone at their desk day in and day out. The healthiest among them usually owe their sanity to finding someone who loves them and evens them out.

I think he would be the first to admit that Nancy Grummett is his better half. She didn’t sit silently through the evening. She was just as much the story teller as he was. They told us about their life together, and that was maybe the most inspiring story of all. They’d met as children in school. Roughly fifty years later, they’re still together and still in love. More than that, they’re alone together most of the time.

Love in our society has become cynical, transactional and in many ways commercial. To see two people who have lived a storybook romance… it’s wonderful. It gives us hope that somewhere out in the wilderness, there’s a chance at happiness.

After dinner, a few of us spoke about what had happened. What alternate universe had we stumble into?

The next morning, Nancy Grummett stopped by our table at the convention. She came to sort of apologize for the night before. “I hope we didn’t talk too much!”

To them, they’re just Tom and Nancy. To us, that was a perfect moment.