The Batman

In life, sometimes, there are moments of purity and clarity. Moments when you do the right thing and you know you’re doing the right thing and nothing else matters.

When I was very young, probably around 4 years old, I had gotten a used Batman costume from a yard sale. This wasn’t a plastic thing, it was the real deal, made out of cloth, with a dark blue cowl and a cape, with a grey suit to go with it. It looked just like the costume Batman wore on TV. It was wonderful to behold. I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror, amazed how I could become the Batman.

Then one summer day the opportunity arose to utilize my newfound glory. There was a little girl living across the street from us. She was a bit younger than me and she was beautiful. But she had a villainous older brother who picked on her, and I noticed him across the street performing one of his many acts of villainy, making the little girl cry.

And I knew just what to do.

I ran into my house and quickly changed from the mild mannered me into the fearless Batman. I quickly checked myself in the mirror to be sure my Batmaness was complete. It was. And I was fearless. I remember it clearly. With that cowl and cape I had nothing to be afraid of. The world would stop on my command.

I charged out of the house. I ran across my yard and across the street. I ran to the rescue. I started yelling at the girl’s older brother for his dastardly deeds and told him he better leave her alone. He seemed very old to me at the time. Maybe he was 9? 10? Almost an adult to a 4 year old. But I berated him in front of his friends. I told him to leave her alone. I put up my dukes and was ready to let him have it and he was stunned for a moment into a speechless stare.

I imagine it was just before he came to his senses and beat me to a pulp that their mom came outside to see what all the fuss was about. I told her he was a cad. Well. In so many words. I did tell her that he was making his sister cry and his mom did the right thing. She made him leave his sister alone and go sit on the back porch until he could learn to act right.

I was rewarded for my bravado with some cookies and milk, which I shared with the damsel who was now distress free. It tasted very, very, very good.






Peace to you.

© LW Publishing 2010