Aaron was a few years older than me, and quite different from the other kids in the neighborhood. While other boys were playing tackle football and frying ants with magnifying glasses, Aaron was tucked in his basement drawing pictures of dragons and super heroes.
I was a little torn. I certainly wanted to be the kind of eight year-old that threw mud at houses, but I was pretty sure Aaron was tapping into something I wanted to be a part of.
Halloween was approaching and I had already decided I wasn’t going to be a fireman again. I wandered across the street and asked Aaron if thought he could turn me into a super-hero. He was happy to give it a shot.
A few days later, I had been transformed from scrawny third-grader into Thunderbolt: super third-grader, who miraculously survived being struck by lightning and subsequently developed the the power to change the weather.
Thunderbolt could harness the wind to help him fly, summon earthquakes to foil the bad guy, and generally make rainy days sunny.
At first Thunderbolt only existed on paper – yellow tights, super goggles, lightning flashing across the chest – but by Halloween, I had my very-own-one-of-a-kind costume. (A special shout out to my late Granny who sewed the lightning bolt to my leotard.) But more important than having the most unique Halloween costume on the block, I knew then that I also had a destiny.
By Christmastime, Thunderbolt had pretty much disappeared – not much need for a super weather changer in our sleepy rural Virginia town – but I never surrendered the dream of becoming a crime fighting hero, or a space traveling gun-slinger, or a dragon slaying knight.
Fueled by Star Wars and The A-Team and boxes upon boxes of comic books, I cultivated a growing appreciation for, if not fascination, with the possibility of a bigger, more amazing story.
Fortysomething years later, fantasy has receded into reality. And the reality of this last year was especially tough. I spent way more time doomscrolling through the news than thumbing through weathered pages featuring colorful action panels and penciled dialogue.
I was never struck by lightning, or bitten by a radioactive spider, or secretly drafted into a covert military unit. But, I’d like to believe that the incredible is possible and that I am part of a bigger story.
I mean, I have to be, right? Because, despite my lack of a super-power, my wife, who is a badass in her own right, still occasionally needs someone rescue her from the dishwasher which is determined to drive her insane. And my two adulting daughters…even if they don’t need me to be their hero, they do need someone to remind them that rainy days can - and will - eventually become sunny.
kZB
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