‘Is that a sweet in your mouth Anderson?’
Mr Jumar asked in an overpowering tone. ‘No’ I replied, still chewing the stony gummy bear picked up off the classroom floor. With his hand hovering in front of me, he tells me to spit it out. That was the first time I ever had a detention.
The year is 1997.
This is my first week in the second year of primary school, and here I find myself stuck in class at break time. The rule was not to eat sweets. I saw a sweet on the floor that could have been there for a whole summer term. If I hadn’t put the stone crusted chewy in my mouth I felt I would have missed a golden opportunity. Mr Jumar knew I wasn’t a bad kid, so he curiously asked me ‘do you like comic books?’ He told me that he was going to start a comic book club at school on Fridays and if I was interested I should put my name on the list. And so I did. Every Friday I found myself in Mr Jumar’s comic book club while others were learning Spanish and French.
He had shelves of the stuff. He had comics that could past the lifespan of two generations. I would spend hours flicking through these pages, marveling at the craftsmanship. I would drool at the illustrations of these heroic figures saving our planet. I would never read these comics, just stare at the pictures for hours. I would look through the comics of Spideyman and Bat-man and the Super-man - all types of man.
I would trace pictures of these supers with my heart spilt on the page, hoping that one day I may be like these guys. I saw the way the
public looked at Super-man as he saved them from a
catastrophic train wreck. I noticed the look they gave Spideyman when he saved the shopping mall from the deadly Dr.Octopus. It was the look of admiration. I wanted the world to look at me like that.
It is only when I got a bit older and had some hair on my chest when I realised the truth of the matter. These figures are glorified monuments of what we are supposed to be doing. These superheroes get movies and videogames made based on them. They get their face pasted on action figures and sold in Happy Meals. It is funny how we glorify the supers that don’t do much, but make very little mention of the heroes who do a great deal.
This chapter is for the firefighters that run in unstable buildings to protect the helpless. This chapter shows tribute to the doctors who use everything in their power to sustain the lives of the feeble. We say thank you to the single mothers with low income, still finding the strength to support our sons. We salute all of the daughters that look after their mothers, while still studying to get an A*. These are the heroes that should be glorified. These are the true supers.
I was raised in a community that showed little to no respect for the law enforcements. With our music did we ridicule them. But if our house got burgled, we would first call the police, not the NWA. So with that thought we say thank you to all of the policemen who keeps our streets safe.
Would you do something that could change the face of this planet forever? Even you heard you would never be known for it?
This chapter goes to those who make the world a better place one soul at a time.
Unmentioned. Unnoticed. Unsung.
I salute you.
We salute you.
Now going back to these comic books.
Mankind has had a fascination with these supers because deep down we realise we need a savior in our own lives. In our day-to-day journeys, there is always something we need to be saved from.
My dear readers, it’s coming to that time where we are head off to a climatic close. But before I go, I must tell you why I am the way I am. Every super has an origin story. There is a particular place where a super gets their super strength.
My power originated from a place most unexpected.