Published Tuesday, April 29, 2008 9:52 AM
Updated Tuesday, April 29, 2008 9:53 AM

 

Fanfare for the Common Man 4/30/08

Confessions of a Superman


Yes, that’s right, you did not misread the title of this column. I … am Superman.

I am the Man of Steel.

Granted, I can’t fly, but I can safety-pin my mom’s good bath towel around my neck and run willy-nilly around the backyard and believe I can. That’s close enough in my book.

I saw the Superman Returns movie the other night for the umpteenth time and I’m going to see the new Iron Man movie this weekend.  I love comic books and super heroes. I’ve read them all and I’ve seen all the movies.

You just can’t beat Superman and Batman, though.

Iron Man though will come a close third, and I mean Batman Begins, not the Tim Burton Batman.

I’m ready for the next Superman movie though. I want to see where they take this.

From what I’ve seen of Iron Man, it’s awesome. I’ve been waiting more than 35 years for somebody to make the Black Sabbath song a part of the comic book.

At least in the movie trailers they have.

I love this new CGI technology. I'd seen what the movies and this new technology had done to Spider-man, The X Men, Batman, The Fantastic Four and even The Incredible Hulk.

While impressed, I knew the best was yet to come.

Just wait until they do Superman, I kept saying.

Then, you will truly believe a man can fly.

I have been in love with the Superman legend since I read my first DC comic when I was eight years old. I can tell you the place, the time and the day when I first picked the magazine out of the rack and stared in awe at the vibrant colors and images jumping off the glossy cover.

The Lake City Michigan Bait Shop and Drug Store in July of 1966.  

Yep ... just like the minnows and night crawlers in the old freezer chest at the bait shop and drug store, those comic books were bait as well, and I just got hooked.

I've been walking around with that hook in my mouth ever since.

No other comic character, shy of maybe Batman inspired me to run around my back yard wearing my Fruit of the Looms on the outside of my pants, a T- shirt with a big S scrawled on the front, and Mom's good bath towels flapping in the breeze behind me.

I thought I was too cool to move, and would stand at times in the middle of the back yard, clenched fists on hips, under drawers on the outside, jeans tucked into my socks, and with a stern Man of Steel expression intently survey my surroundings with x-ray vision, before flying off for the swing set and an imaginary Lois stranded at the top of the slide.

My parents would watch from behind drawn curtains and shake their heads in quiet dismay.

"Where did we go wrong?" my mom would lament.

My Dad would then add, "That boy is just not right."

Throughout my adult life Superman has been the one thing that would make me stop and take notice.

Not baseball.

Not pretty women.

Not even a majestic sunset.

But show me the red and yellow S, the blue tights and the red cape, and my lower lip collapses like a cheap card table.

I keep a Superman action figure (it's not a doll it's an action figure!) atop my computer monitor. Everywhere I've set up shop, the first thing out of my briefcase would be my Superman action figure.

I own two Superman T-Shirts, and yes, I think they're acceptable fashion wear.

I look at the Underoos display while shopping and sigh wistfully.

If only...

I want some.  Bad.

And I’d fight the urge to wear them outside my pants if I had some, too.

During my first week with a daily metropolitan newspaper back in 2000, I was walking down a back corridor and came upon a simple door marked Storeroom. I looked around to see if I was alone in the hall, and finding that I was ... I looked both ways ... ripped off my glasses ... jerked my tie knot loose and yanked opened the storeroom door.

Great Scott ... Lois is in trouble.

This is a job ... for Superman.

You know, I'd have been wearing those Underoos underneath if they just came in XXL.