Growing Up with Superman

Growing Up with Superman

By Rodney J May

 

My young life would change forever during the cold November of 1992. It was a different world growing up as a skinny blonde country kid reading eighties and nineties comic books. The wind blew a little harder the day I learned my hero, my idol, the one that I looked up to and who gave me hope and inspiration was dead. Superman had died. To boost declining comic book sales, DC Comics decided to do the unthinkable and kill off my beloved hero. I'll never forget desperately combing through the colored glossy pages of Superman #75 as I saw my hero battle the dreaded Doomsday monster. He fought with everything he had, spilling his rarely seen superhero blood and saving those that he could, but in the end, he gave his life to protect the citizens of Metropolis and the world. My mouth held a gape as my seemingly untouchable hero breathed his last breath. How could this be? Superman was not supposed to die. He was designed to be that eternal ray of hope and goodness in a world that continued to darken around me as I grew and became less naïve to the pitfalls of our world.

We didn't have the internet in the eighties and nineties, except for the rare school project where the teacher would let you look something up at her desk, cable TV had a whopping twenty-one channels compared to the three that regular broadcast TV gave you, social media didn't exist, after school, we would play outside and work on that fort you've been building all summer. Fridays were extra special because you got your $2.00 allowance and could ride your bike down to the local grocery store for a cold can of Pepsi and the comic book. If we had heard the phrase "screen time" we would have thought it had something to do with the front storm door facing the street. In my little town, all the dads went to work during the day and the moms stayed home. Dinner time was always at the same time, telephones were mounted on the kitchen wall, and children's knees were typically scraped up in varying degrees from backyard baseball or falling off our bicycles as we pretended to be Evil Kinevil. We felt as though we could fly, if only for a moment, as we launched off our homemade ramps.

West Michigan for a kid meant hot summers, cold windy winters, and occasional trips “up north.” The summers were filled with afternoons on the Slip & Slide, basketball down the street at the local park, and all-day adventures with my best friend. I had no brothers, so Brian and I became like family. His grandparent's house was right next door and he visited often. Behind our houses was a small strip of undeveloped woods that ran into a public park a few houses down our quiet street. These woods became our sanctuary and childhood domain for hide-and-seek and mulberry picking. We would build forts, climb trees, and fashion everything from knives, swords, and machine guns from the most choice of sticks we would find in our beloved realm of imagination. Our backyard and woods would become a futuristic space station, a medieval countryside complete with dragons and goblins, or a bustling city where our heroes saved the day from whatever new villain or natural disaster we would dream up.

It seemed like all the fashioning of stick weapons, the play clothes we chose, and the claiming of territories all revolved around our favorite game we called “Us-bein-em," or Us-Being-Them to the novice of childhood play. Brian and I would watch a movie, a Saturday morning cartoon, or take inspiration from the latest comic book and pretend to be the heroes and villains that captivated our undivided attention. We took this game seriously and there were rules to ensure the harmony of our world building so we didn't allow events or forces that we did not find in the source material. For example, it was rare for us to introduce a super-powered person into a world of, let's say… dinosaur hunters. Unless of course, the dinosaurs had gotten into a chemical compound that gave them superpowers that could match the super-powered person… naturally. If one of us decided to be Superman and the other Batman, obviously Batman would need some sort of superpower-proof armor or weapons. No one was too overpowered as that would make the game end too soon and we always introduced new high risk stakes and time limits on tasks to give the gameplay a sense of suspense and uncertainty.

Arguments were not uncommon between the batmen and the supermen, claiming one was not following the world-building rules or their force field was down when in fact, it was clearly operational because the grapevines were laying over the old downed log... I mean the power supply was connected to the generator. Sometimes a game of Us-bein-Em could go on for a week and we'd have to remind each other where we were in the storyline the next day. Many times, just as the final blow was being charged up or the villain was about to fall off the cliff, our mothers would yell from the back door, "Dinnertime!" and our shoulders would drop, and we'd roll up our imaginary capes to go wash our hands and faces before dinner. "See you tomorrow," I'd say dragging my dirty Velcro shoes along the beaten-down dirt path. "Yup, see you at school," Brian would respond with similar disappointment. We once tried to continue an Us-Bien-Em session during school recess, but it just wasn't the same without the sanctity of our peaceful woods.

Out of all the superheroes, villains, and antiheroes Saturday morning cinema and comic books could provide, Superman was always my favorite. There was something about him that made me want to become a better version of myself. Superman first appeared in Action Comics #1 in 1938 and has changed little in appearance and mission through the years. In the 1940s and 50s, Superman would appear in newspapers, comic books, on the radio, and in black and white TV serials. I was first introduced to a live-action Superman through the late great Christopher Reeves movies. In 1978, theaters released "Superman” and the motion picture was groundbreaking not only for the silver screen but for my wide-eyed childhood spirit. Something came alive in me as I saw my hero come alive and don the iconic red, blue, and yellow. Superman was not only all-powerful, but he could also fly, bullets would bounce off him, he could lift incredibly heavy objects, to me he seemed untouchable. What really drew me to Superman was not only that he seemed all-powerful but he was morally uncorrupted. Superman was not only incredibly powerful, but he was also incredibly good. He would rescue a little girl's kitten out of a tree and then in another moment stop a runaway train, saving hundreds of passengers. Superman never misused his power.

During the Silver and Golden Age of comic books, Superman was not the only superpowered person. Shazam, Captain Marvel, and the Atom had comparable superpowers to my Man of Steel, but many of these characters did not become nearly as popular. Throughout the years, Superman has become so well known that his iconic "S" symbol he boldly wears on his chest has become the second most recognized symbol in the world, second only to the Christian cross. What makes Superman stand out among these similar super people? Like my glowing impressionable childhood heart did, we are all looking for something bigger than ourselves. Something not just more powerful than us, in which we do not have to look far, but something "better." Live just a few years on this earth and we realize there is darkness as well as light. There is a reason many children are afraid of the dark, and children being afraid of the light is unheard of. As we grow up, we are reminded almost daily that darkness is still found in the world and many times, fear is the appropriate response. We haven't actually grown out of being afraid of the dark, the darkness has simply changed its form. Sometimes we need a reminder that there are “greater goods” in this world, and we may even have the opportunity to become better ourselves. Superman is an ideal of what could be, of what a little blonde country kid could become.

Like all children, I learned early on that my world could be dark and had villains. Some were no more than annoying and petty. Some of my childhood villains were necessary for my development of problem-solving and social skills. Like so many children, I had a bully who followed me through much of my elementary school years. He was one grade ahead of me, which in the world of school children was a lifetime. He was physically bigger than me, used curse words I had only heard in the rated R movies that I snuck a peak at over at Brian's grandparent’s, and he always smelled like smoked sausage for some reason. I couldn't pass by his desk to get to the pencil sharpener without him sticking his foot out in hopes of tripping me or lean over the hallway drinking fountain without him bumping me from behind so I would hit my mouth on the nozzle. Sometimes I would get on the school bus in tears because it seemed like he only targeted me. Unfortunately, it took an injury for him to relent from the constant harassment.

One day at recess I was hanging from the monkey bars and he came up behind me, wrapped his arms and legs around my body, and hung all his weight against my skinny little arms. I felt and heard a click in my back and I began to be in pain. I cried out as we dropped to the ground and he hurried off not wanting my cries to draw unwanted attention to himself. I didn't want to tell anyone as I was afraid of further repercussions from the bully, but the pain was too much to ignore a recess aid asked me what was wrong. Through tears, I told her what had happened and they sent me to the office and called my mother. She took me to the local doctor and they looked me over. My back was very sore and the pain would increase if I tried to stand up straight.

Thankfully it turned out to be nothing serious, but I missed the rest of the week. My bully must have gotten in trouble as he was quiet around me when I returned to school and he stayed away from me for the most part the rest of that year. As an adult and counselor, I understand where most bullying comes from and he was much softer than many childhood bullies my clients would tell me about and the horrific stories from their childhoods. My bully was one of my supervillains, as he had greater power than me and sadly, misused it. He was not a protector of the weak nor did he try to save anyone's day. There were no kittens saved from trees or run-away bicycles stopped by his hands, but instead, he became, at best, a nuisance and at worse, a fiend. I do sometimes wonder where he is today and I hope that he has decided to use his power for the good of himself and those around him.

My young life was also touched by villains who were more powerful and villainous than my schoolyard nemesis. I care not to get into those details in this context but please understand that if you have been victimized or abused by those who left you feeling ashamed, confused, and even dirty, you are far from alone and please know that no amount of hurt or abuse has ultimate authority over you nor can it dictate how far you can go or who you can become. There are indeed real-life supervillains in this world and pain tends to dictate our emotions and perspectives of this world. Please understand that there are also real-life superheroes in our world. Good people still exist despite the obvious atrocities life can offer, they still extend a listening and even healing hand and even seek out the hurting. These are the real supermen and superwomen. I would encourage you to get in touch with someone today if you are hurting from something in your past. In the comics, Superman had super hearing for a reason, he could not do the rescuing if he did not hear the cries for help. If you are hurting and feel alone, please pick up your phone or send an e-mail to someone who might be able to help. Maybe today is when you let a superhero into your life.

This gives another example of why Superman was my favorite superhero. Not only would he hear our cries for help but he would strain to listen for them. In the comics, Superman would fly out just outside the Earth's atmosphere, close his eyes, and listen to the bustling activity of the blue planet in front of him. Once he pinpointed an erupting volcano, a falling plane, or the cries of a little girl, his eyes would snap open and boom, he would fly faster than sound to come to the rescue. Why would a Superman, a mother, or a best friend strain to hear your cries for help? The simple answer is that they care about you. Your cries and complaints are not a nuisance or a burden to those who love you. They listen and look at your times of trouble as opportunities to bring joy and happiness into your life. People who care about you will do what they can to "save the day," or bring some goodness and truth into your life.

In Superman’s story, he is an alien and he doesn't belong on Earth. He lost his family and all he would have known on his home planet and was adopted into ours. As powerful as he is, he did not come to rule over us or to assert his dominance to fulfill his personal whims and desires, but he decided to pour his goodness and care into this strange world even though we rejected him many times. This is what made him so appealing to me as a child and today. He was good towards us not because he had to or because it was his duty, but because he simply felt it was the right thing to do. He looked at who we were, recognized that we were weaker and could have been easily overtaken, and yet he used his power to build us up and bring good into our lives. Could there be a better superhero and role model for a grubby blonde country kid? Only One other comes to mind.

Superman inspired me to become greater than I was. I knew I could never be as strong as him or have the ability to catch airplanes out of the sky or carry a huge boulder to plug a raging volcano, but I knew I could become stronger than I was. I knew I could become stronger not just physically but emotionally and mentally as well. People flock to see Michelangelo's David in Florence, Italy for good reason. This pristine example of expert craftsmanship from the High Renaissance period oozes perfection from the fine lines of detail and divine curves hewn into the unforgiving white marble. It is natural to have a sense of ambivalence when gazing upon the form of the ancient shepherd king. The mirror of perfection causes us to feel hope and inspiration to move in the direction of bettering ourselves, to come a little closer to the ideal of who we ought to be. It should inspire us to dream a little deeper and work a little harder to reach our goals, but naturally when we, the marred imperfect gaze upon the god-like form, we slink back in shame as our rough lines, bumps, and blemishes become all the more clear. As Michelangelo's David is a lofty goal for adults, Superman was my ultimate as a child. Maybe I could never be Superman, but maybe, just maybe I could become a little more super. Maybe one day I could save the day and inspire hope in someone's eyes.

Early in my junior high years, I was fortunate enough to discover one of my "superpowers." It appeared I had the gift of gab and had no fear of crowds or public speaking. Now, put me in a social gathering, like a birthday party or middle school dance and I was as terrified as a mouse and the snake den, but put me in front of a crowd, like a gym assembly or class presentation and I reveled at the opportunity to engage with my audience. In fifth grade, we periodically had to present in front of the class on a topic we were to study and learn about. Most of the kids in Mr. Neeson's class hated these presentations, but nothing excited me more. I would lazily study the topic assigned to me, just enough to have a bit of information to legitimize my upcoming performance. I would fill most of my time with quips, jokes, and acting out scenes that loosely related to my topic. You know what they say, the older you get the better you were, but I can say with certainty that I slayed. Just thinking about these fifth-grade presentations makes me chuckle as I remember my classmates laughing until they had tears rolling down their cheeks and Mr. Neeson sitting behind his desk with a mild smirk, typically shaking his head as I landed my final punch line and took a bow as the kids clapped and cheered.

As I grew into my high school years, I recognized how rare it was not to be afraid of public speaking. I learned that public speaking is the number one fear among Americans and this beats out death itself at the number two spot. So, I tried to capitalize on this seemingly natural gift of mine and I joined the high school theater group but did not find my place there as I did not like being told what to say or do on stage. I started a cover rock'n'roll band with some other friends my sophomore year and into my junior year we played at a few different schools and assemblies with myself being the lead singer, of course, even though I wasn't that great of a vocalist. Into my early 20s, I needed to figure out a way to use my outgoing personality to support my young family and sales seemed to fit the bill. I use my superpower of speaking and presenting to become a sales representative for Alltel Communications selling groovy flip cell phones. I quickly became the top salesman in our store and one of the top in the region. As they did with the high-performing sales reps, I was sent on trips and given rewards and bonuses. It seemed my superpower was serving my young family well.

When I present at a school assembly today, I often reminisce back to my fifth-grade presentations and how it all started in Mr. Neeson's class. So many people in this world have superpowers, we just don't recognize them. Whether it's public speaking, leadership skills, having a knack for mathematics, or engineering, people employ their superpowers every day. One of my goals while speaking to middle and high school students is to help them realize they have great potential. They have superpowers, they just don't know it yet. Similar to when I was in middle school, some students have a vague idea of what their gifts or talents may be, but most have no clue what they are capable of. My goal is to help them to be inspired to find out. After a session at a detention center for adolescent boys, one of the residents came up to me after I was done speaking, he couldn't have been more than sixteen years old. His wide eyes told me something was stirred in him and he asked, "What do you see in me?" It was quite obvious his question was loaded with a history of discouragement and pain, as I answered, "a lot." I went on to tell him that he was capable of doing anything he was willing to work for, despite his background and past failures. He left me with a skeptical smile and hopefully a new outlook on life.

I have a suspicion growing up without the opportunity to be plugged into video games or online was to my advantage. I was forced to use my imagination daily because it was either inventing my own fun or facing the torturous mode of boredom. I find that young people today are rarely "forced" to use their imaginations because they can be so easily distracted, if not obsessed, with entering a world that someone else's imagination dreamed up in a video game. I had a friend who was a little younger than me and he was showing me this new amazing game called Minecraft. He showed me the blocky landscapes, the square trees, and the underground fortress he had been building. It was kind of neat, but what sat me down was when I asked, "So, how long did it take you to build your underground kingdom?" "Oh, I couldn’t even guess how many hours, but I’ve been working on this fortress every day for about a week." I quickly did some guesstimation on how many hours per day multiplied by a week, multiplied by four. Way. Too. Many. What a waste of valuable time! A little bit of game time here and there is fine and even needed to relax if that's your hobby, but when you add up the total hours in a month and then think, what if I took half those hours and devoted them to something constructive, who knows what great things I could build or accomplish! When I was raising teenagers, I recognized this shortcoming in their culture and introduced something to our household that will infamously be told about to my grandchildren.

My children were young teenagers when COVID-19 and the pandemic closed schools. They were forced to stay at home and do their classes online. As potentially necessary as the closings were, it did no favors for my kid’s socialization and development of appropriate real-life problem-solving skills. They were always “plugged in.” Whether into a video game, social media, or their school work, they were always at their computers. To combat this imbalance I introduced "Tech-No Tuesdays and Thursdays," as a household rule. This was not a punishment for any misbehavior, but rather a boundary that supported my kid's balance in life. Every Tuesday and Thursday my son and daughter were not allowed to be on electronics and instead were required to do something productive. They could read, write, draw, go outside, or practice a hobby. Not surprisingly, my perfect angels rolled around on the floor and gnashed their teeth in protest when I first introduced this rule, but after some time and consistency, it became part of our family's culture. The rule was so effective it remained until they graduated high school. A couple of years after my son moved out of the house we were joking around about the dreaded Tech-No Tuesdays and Thursdays and he got a little serious for a moment and he thanked me for instilling such a rule as he said it put him far ahead of people his age in social skills and thinking ability.

Again, I'm not saying that playing video games is a bad thing as it does have some relaxing effects on the player. Some video games encourage good life skills such as bravery, self-sacrifice, problem-solving, and motivation to conquer challenges greater than ourselves. For many people video games are an escape where solace can be found. All good things ought to be properly balanced and even Superman needed to get away at times as he struggled with relational and emotional difficulties. This made him a little more relatable. As much as he gave himself, listened for our cries, and came to our rescue time after time, he also needed respite and time away to recharge. Writers of some of the earliest Superman comics recognized his need for the Fortress of Solitude. In the early comic book adaptations, this fortress was much like Batman's ever-familiar Batcave as the walls were brown and complete with furniture and a futuristic computer system. Superman's fortress of solitude was later changed to its more familiar crystallized alien-like structure.

Superman's fortress of solitude made him a little more real and vulnerable as it seemed like nothing could touch him physically, but he was still affected emotionally. I too would get worn out and tired from the daily grind of battling growing up in the lower middle class. My fortress of solitude was a little cubby closet under the stairs of my childhood home. I could take my stuffed animals, books, and blanket into my cubby and close the little door. From my hiding spot, I could hear the familiar noises and voices of my family around me, but I was left to myself. Sometimes my mother would open the squeaky door to find me asleep holding my stuffed monkey. My heart hurt when the day came that I could no longer fit into my little cubby. I tried to mimic my peace place under my bed or in my closet, but nothing ever felt the same. Today, I have found new fortress of solitudes in my office or out in the woods as I walk under the Autumn trees.

I'll never forget one of my counseling college professors starting class by taking a little remote-controlled helicopter out of his worn briefcase. He smirked and chuckled as he began flying it around the classroom. The little helicopter whizzed above us and blew papers off our desks. The girls gave nervous laughs as their hair waved from the blades whirling above them. Like a seasoned pilot, the chuckling white-bearded professor had it come gently to rest back on his desk and he began explaining something that I will never forget. He told us that many times counseling offices and social industries are full of people who are passionate about reaching out to others, but many times forget to take care of themselves. He taught us that we needed something that we enjoyed to give us rest away from the constant cries of our clients. For our professor, a little toy helicopter was his peace place and without realizing it, he showed us his Fortress of Solitude and taught me I needed to find my own.

The early writers of Superman realized that they may have created him a little too perfect. Nothing could stop him. Bullets bounced off his skin, dynamite had no effect, and even plummeting asteroids didn't slow him down. Realizing their dilemma they introduced Superman's one true weakness: kryptonite. As the story was further developed it was shown that kryptonite was a piece of his homeworld and this caused him to revert back to a weak and vulnerable state. His super strength melted away, gravity held him down, and he was susceptible to injuries. In effect, kryptonite made Superman... normal. When I speak to young people I encourage them to discover their potential and exercise their superpowers, but also to know what their weaknesses are. There's a concept in the Christian Bible that speaks about the “sins that so easily beset us.” This favors the notion that though all humans are flawed we are not all flawed in the same way. We don’t all struggle with the same “sins” in the same way.

Some people struggle with having an addictive nature, some do not. Some struggle with gambling, others do not. For others, alcohol is a real vice and yet to many, it is a non-issue. You may struggle with an addiction to pornography to where someone else may be a workaholic and neglect their families. We all have sins that can so easily beset us and my sins that I'm more susceptible to may be different than yours, but we all have our weaknesses, we all have our kryptonite. Superman knew what kryptonite was and he did everything he could to stay away from it. Socrates famously said, "Know thyself." Do we know ourselves well enough to recognize our kryptonite when it walks through the door or comes on our computer screen, or is offered to us by a so-called friend? Once we know what our kryptonite is do we make real efforts to stay away from it? Superman was not very super when he was around kryptonite and if we allow the things that weaken us to remain, we will fade into the backdrop of humanity never making the intended impact we were destined for.

There's only one Superman and in his story, he knew it. He learned that he was adopted by his earthly parents in his teen years and the hope of ever meeting someone from his home world was nothing more than a distant dream. Even though he was the only Kryptonian, he was never alone. Superman surrounded himself with people who cared about him. From his earthly parents, his friends like Jimmy Olsen, the love of his life, Lois Lane, and his team of other super people in the Justice League, but my favorite example of his need for a relationship was found in his biological father, Jor-El. In his fortress of solitude, there was the stored memory of his deceased father and through the alien technology, they could talk to each other as if he were still alive. Superman was not thinking about going to his fortress of solitude to be alone, to just get away from it all, but he wanted to talk to his dad. I underappreciated this powerful example of a father-and-son relationship for much of my youth. I admit that I took my father for granted as he was just always there and I had what seemed like unlimited access to him.

I have come to realize that I was very fortunate to have both of my biological parents in the home my entire childhood. My parents were married in the 70s and were looking forward to their 46th anniversary when he passed in 2020. Oh, how I would relish the opportunity to enter my peace place and speak with my father once again. My father and I had a good and close relationship as I was his only son and first-born child. During the week of his passing, we had the opportunity to speak on a deeper level about life, our relationship, and the lessons he passed down to me. We laughed and cried together as he lay in his bed, a weakened phantom of the strong father that used to hoist me up onto his shoulders. During those precious final hours, there were no hard feelings to get over, no secrets to be told, and no apologies needed because my father's relationship with his family was one of genuineness and truth. When Superman was hurting, confused, or frustrated he just needed to talk to his dad and Jor-El would remind him, not of what he could do, because Superman knew his abilities, but he would remind him of who he was. This is what kept Superman going even when he felt like quitting. "A quitter is not who you are." "You are good, and you do good even when it's hard." These lessons could have been mouthed by my own father and now I'm telling them to you.

What adventure is waiting for you? What problem needs the solution you hold in your hands? What hurting person needs to be reminded that there is some good and virtue left in this world? What kryptonite do you need to overcome? Who do you need to talk to today to strengthen or heal the relationship? What journey do you need to take the first step on? Do you hear the cries of those hurting? Are you taking time out for yourself to relieve and refresh yourself? Maybe it's time for you to go save the day and be super to someone who needs you. Maybe it's time for you to get up out of the dirt, brush your knees and hands off, lift your eyes to the horizon, tie your cape around your neck, and fly.