So, behind the house, I should point out I lived on the edge of town and behind the house was miles of nothing. Behind his house was miles of nothing, forest with ground that was steep badlands looking broken ground but it was red clay. Tall buttes and hills in miniature, the thrust up broken pieces of ground would go up maximum a 15-20 feet but then STEEP sides, gullies and washes we called them. It was a mess. It was PERFECT for playing in. The hills gave us cover and geography to play in and the trees kept it from being too hot. Considering this was Southern Alabama it would probably kill me now. But we were kids then, we didn't feel temperature.
None of our stories, adventures, or information came from comic versions of these myths because we didn't read the comic versions. I'd read them first in the Edward Dolch books from our public library, published in the 50's they were ancient when I got them but I didn't care. They were wonderful books. I've just ordered the Greek one because I found it first. Greek Stories: A Dolch Pleasure Book. There were more in all sorts of mythos' from African to Japanese and Indian (They're Native Americans now but they weren't then) and I devoured them all and loved the interesting worlds behind the pages. A part of me still thinks those interesting worlds are out there waiting to be discovered, seen, glimpsed or stumbled through. I'm 43 now and I still sort of wish for an arch to take me to another world as I go under it with my eyes closed. Cresting a hill has me convinced I'll see an Emerald City in the distance at some point. Those books, that summer, possibly the summer of '78... I really can't remember... that set my love of reading in my brain as a permanent thing. I can still smell that old library when I close my eyes.