I am going to tell you the absolute truth.
Not that I've filled this blogs with lies, mind you, but this one is going to be hard for anyone to swallow, but I swear it is true, down to every detail.
I wanted to be a superhero. More than that. I actually tried to organize a superhero convention. I was in second grade at the time.
I better explain...
These were the dynamic TV years of the George Reeves Superman, Green Hornet, but especially the Mt. Everest of all crusaders: Batman.
Not that I've filled this blogs with lies, mind you, but this one is going to be hard for anyone to swallow, but I swear it is true, down to every detail.
I wanted to be a superhero. More than that. I actually tried to organize a superhero convention. I was in second grade at the time.
I better explain...
These were the dynamic TV years of the George Reeves Superman, Green Hornet, but especially the Mt. Everest of all crusaders: Batman.
Oh, how we loved Batman. Every kid in Dallastown Elementary loved Batman. And Robin, of course. The TV show was the talk of the school. Playground time was all Caped Crusader stuff.
Add to this the fact that my dad bought us kids two crates - crates, mind you - of comic books ranging from early Iron Man, Spiderman, Aqua Man (I didn't really like him), Silver Surfer, Hulk, and others, and you could see I was a mess.
I would sit and read the old DC and Marvel comics and just hope against hope that I could be a superhero. We would, of course, gather into neighborhood superhero groups of our own in the gravel lot near our home with our own custom-made names and powers: FleetFoot, Inferno, Ultra Boy, and even Glasses Man (I found an old pair of plastic lens-less glasses and figured they were good for laser beams. I was short on creativity that day, okay?) We had come upon a set of old capes from a defunct high school band and we were set. Every day - and I do mean every day - we were running the lawns of the little town, defying imaginary hoodlums who all wore pork-pie hats and masks. I never could figure out why they would stereotype themselves that way, but that was their business, not mine.
Add to this the fact that my dad bought us kids two crates - crates, mind you - of comic books ranging from early Iron Man, Spiderman, Aqua Man (I didn't really like him), Silver Surfer, Hulk, and others, and you could see I was a mess.
I would sit and read the old DC and Marvel comics and just hope against hope that I could be a superhero. We would, of course, gather into neighborhood superhero groups of our own in the gravel lot near our home with our own custom-made names and powers: FleetFoot, Inferno, Ultra Boy, and even Glasses Man (I found an old pair of plastic lens-less glasses and figured they were good for laser beams. I was short on creativity that day, okay?) We had come upon a set of old capes from a defunct high school band and we were set. Every day - and I do mean every day - we were running the lawns of the little town, defying imaginary hoodlums who all wore pork-pie hats and masks. I never could figure out why they would stereotype themselves that way, but that was their business, not mine.
But I wanted to take it step further. I knew the world had superheroes lurking around, waiting to get organized. They just needed a leader. And I, a knowledgeable second grader, would be the one to band them together...and the International Headquarters would be in Dallastown, Pennsylvania... and I was absolutely serious about all this...
