This post is in response to several people asking me why Superman is "my favorite":
I am going to start with a confession. I can fly.
When I was a kid, barely waist-high, most Saturday mornings I would overtake the linen closet to emancipate my favorite beach towel. It had been six lifeless days, and we were due for an adventure. The cloth had a coziness, a familiarity that charmed all five senses. Even though the fabric's vibrant ruby red was all but blinding in the sun, I still found myself staring for several minutes into my weekend companion. As my fixation dissolved, I would flip him around to meet my backside and drape him from my then inadequate shoulders. My fingers took their time tying an awkwardly hefty knot just below my chin, and when they were finished, I bent my knees and planted both feet firmly on the ground. Then, with a slight push skyward, I was up... up... and away!
Wait... did I forget to tell you to add a little dash of imagination? You should know, of course... I can't fly without it. But that's all it really takes, doesn't it?
Most of the people I know that read comics are adults. People that are old enough to know better. These people know to concede to the real world. They know comic books are not the stuff of great literature; they are a child's form of entertainment. Man cannot fly on his own. He can't bend steel in his bare hands. And he is certainly not bulletproof. At some point, most of us make a decision to grow up. We fall in line behind those that have come before us, tucking our imagination up onto a shelf with other "childish" things, and... I can't. I won't. And a most remarkable thought ran through my head a few days ago: no one has to.
At first glance, if you were to peek into my room, you wouldn't see much. My bed takes up most of the floor space in what is the smallest room in the house. My desk is cluttered with month-old mail and pens that have long lost their usefulness. My closet overflows with worn fabric, some that still fit, even. Simple. Normal. But if you took a little more time to explore, it wouldn't take you long to find my idol hiding just beneath the surface. A stash of comic books beside my printer. An old lunch tin under my bed. A custom wallet tucked under my keys, sitting on my nightstand. His name is Superman. And he has been my hero ever since I can remember.
For over 70 years, this one character, more than
any other in modern pop culture has embodied the dreams and ideals of
the comic book hero. While you may not share my affinity for Superman, I know you would agree it's hard to imagine a world without him. He's part of our lives, our childhood. In fact, I challenge you to ask the next ten people you meet if they know the story of Superman. I would be willing to bet my next paycheck that nine of them at least know the fundamentals. He comes from a far away planet. His alter ego is Clark Kent. Kryptonite. Lois Lane. Lex Luthor. Oh, and did I mention- he can fly?
It's been that way ever since two teenagers from Cleveland (Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel) set out for New York in 1938 with a fresh new idea. The place they called home was at the tail end of the Great Depression, and a Second World War was inevitably looming- the nation needed a hero. The world needed a legend. The demand was high, but they delivered. Superman may have started out a comic book character, but he has become so much more. He has inspired and entertained the public through movies, novels, television, music, and animation. He has become synonymous with "Truth, Justice, and the American Way." And he has taught me timeless lessons.
So here we are. With mine and Superman's past lightly visited, let me bring it all around. Something stirred in me the other day when I saw the
Man of Steel preview as I listened to Russell Crowe's Jor-El address his son (Superman):
You will give the people an ideal to strive towards.
They will race behind you. They will stumble. They will fall.
But in time, they will join you in the sun. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.
And the reason something stirred in me is because, if only for a moment, I had forgotten... In a world so easily embraced by cynicism and despair, Superman shows me that humankind is capable of greatness. He reminds me the best of what we can be as parents and as children. He never gives up because he knows that life is a never-ending battle. He is an inspiration.
That's why he is my hero- because at the very core, a hero inspires. Because regardless of how important the character Superman becomes, it is the
idea of Superman that is so dear to my heart.
Well, I gotta fly now. My cape just came out of the dryer and somewhere there is an old lady that needs help crossing the street. While I'm gone, maybe you could contemplate on the story that you probably already know, but maybe you haven't thought about in a while.