I started my last post off by telling you, dear reader, about taking care of a septic problem in my house. What I didn’t tell you is that Ms. Boss sent me a text that very evening about how I was her knight in shining armor – her hero. I aspire to be nothing more.
I like modern day super hero movies because I like modern-day super heroes. Most modern-day super heroes have struggle that they must overcome to be worthy of the title, not to mention a full-length feature. They are both human and more than human at the same time. Perhaps I like them because they suggest that someone as flawed as me can be a hero.
Growing up, my friends and I pretended to be super heroes as many children do. Who was I? I was the mighty Cat Diesel Power – an identity I derived from a Catepillar Tractor hat I wore at times while growing up. My super power? – the million watt shock. Strangely enough, this would become my signature disco dance in the late single digits of my life. Fortunately for everyone, I grew out of this stage of my life.
If could possess a super power these days, it would be flying. If nothing else, it would make my commute oh so much more tolerable.
One of the most earth-shattering moments of my life occurred in junior English Literature when I read The Scarlet Letter. The fact that a preacher could be the villain just rocked my rather naive view of the world. So sorry if this snippet is a plot spoiler for anyone.
I still occasionally fantasize about scoring a touchdown in football and being the hero of the game. Seeing as I’m an out-of-shape forty-six year-old that barely had the talent to play offensive tackle thirty years ago, this won’t happen. Still, the marching band playing the fight song because of what I did still sounds sweet in my dreams.
Was I ever a sports hero ever? Yes, once. The score was tied heading into my wrestling match against a team we had never lost to. With the only match after mine almost guaranteed to be a loss by pin, I need to pin my opponent to guarantee we wouldn’t lose. I knew I could win, as poor of a wrestler as I was, my opponent was even worse. I dominated the match, but just couldn’t seem to get the job done and was in danger of winning the match by a technical fall which would have left us a point short and my coach made sure I was well of this (as an aside, he was 5’3″ and I’m 6’3″ which made him getting in my face a little almost humorous). With time running out I got him on his back and squeezed as hard as I could. When the ref slapped the mat signalling the pin, I jumped up and immediately pointed at my father – the only person in the building more excited than me. He pointing back at me is perhaps one of my fondest memories. I’m actually crying as I type this – despite everything, he’s still my hero.
Until next time, go out and try to be someone’s hero. I’ll try my best to keep being Ms. Boss’ hero.