In the Eye of the Imaginer

Not many people ever get the opportunity to achieve true hero status. I was blessed enough to achieve it numerous times before age 12. Over the years, I've been Superman, Batman, Captain America, Spiderman, and The Green Hornet during my more intense phases. In off-periods I've been The Lone Ranger, Zorro, The Flash, Thor, and Steve Canyon. Steve Canyon was a USAF pilot for the majority of you who probably don't remember him.

Being an only child gives you the required time to concentrate on being all these guys. Distractions are annoying enough to mere mortals, but when you're being Superman, for example, you can imagine the consequences of looking away from your target when your heat vision is activated. One slip and you've vaporized your Aunt Mildred's Studebaker. Focus and study are keys to being a successful multi-hero.

Understanding this, I studied every episode and issue of all these various characters' exploits, analyzing them and committing them to memory. Along the way, I'd have the occasional revelation, like noticing that Superman could stand there with bullets bouncing off his chest while he was being shot at, but when the gun got empty and the bad guy threw it at Superman, he would duck! I asked my parents about that one, but they just shook their heads and sighed.

Even at that young age, I somehow instinctively understood the importance of applying stuff I'd recently learned, so usually when I saw somebody do something cool on a nighttime show, I was out trying it the next day.

Zorro, for instance, was being held captive in an upstairs room on one of his episodes. Deftly untying himself, he made his way out onto the balcony and whistled for his horse Tornado, who dutifully ran up under the balcony to allow Zorro to jump from the second story onto his noble horse's back. In retrospect, I have to question the wisdom of this from both their viewpoints, but that's what they did, and at the time I was impressed and inspired.

I was still inspired the next morning, when I happened to wake up and notice our old dog lying just underneath my bedroom window. It seemed that fate had dictated that I try the neat trick I'd seen my hero do the night before. My window would be my balcony, and the dog would be Tornado.

I suited up.

Back then you had an outfit for every character, and I had a Zorro set with a mask, cape, hat, and flaccid rubber sword. I usually augmented this setup with spurs from one of my cowboy outfits, so I opted for those, too. So equipped, I muscled that old window open and awkwardly climbed up into position.

Now, this dog was accustomed to seeing me do questionable things, so at first he just laid there looking up at me as I teetered, crouched in that window. Eventually though, I could see this wave of understanding come over him and he realized what I was about to do.

I made my leap... and just in time, he just casually moved out of the way. Tornado would never have done that, and as I was on the way down, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This wasn't going to be anywhere near the cool landing Zorro had made, and there was obviously no turning back.

To quickly do the math, I was probably about 3 feet tall at that point. I was jumping from a height of probably 6 or 7 feet. So, once my "horse" abandoned me, there wasn't much chance of landing on my feet without my knees buckling. That's what they did, which STILL might not have been so bad if I hadn't had those spurs on.

When you squat all the way down, your heels are touching your rear end. If your heels happen to have pointed metallic disks attached, you're going to get tenderized. You can see where this eventually went.

Nevertheless, I was able to continue my heroism career for several more years and build up a memorable childhood. Nobody got hurt (permanently), and nobody recommended I get counseling or imagination-management classes or whatever the heck they do now. I might have BEEN hyperactive, but I wasn't diagnosed with it or medicated for it (as far as I know).

I guess I said all that to say this: I think nowadays, maybe we're a little too tough on kids whose imaginations are in overdrive and whose energy levels are immeasurable. I have a grandson (Oh, my God! Am I old enough to be somebody's Grandpa?) who is a case study in this sort of thing. In fact, he's amazingly like you-know-who. He has a Harry Potter outfit, a Spiderman outfit, multiple pairs of Superman PJ's, and this strange-looking pair of goggles that came with one of them. I'm not sure what they're supposed to be for. He mixes and matches from all this collection to suit whatever his imagination is busy with at any given time. He zooms around the house doing all the dialog, sound effects, music, and narration needed for the adventure at hand. Obviously, in his mind, there is an epic unfolding during every waking moment, and he throws himself into it completely.

Do I think he probably spends too much time on movies, TV, and video games? Yep, I'd have to admit I do. And do I just sort of watch in puzzled amusement as he streaks by my chair challenging aliens at the top of his lungs? You betcha.

But, I keep in mind that, in addition to having been all the folks I mentioned at the outset, I've also been HIM, and I still understand that childhood and summers are all about spending as much time as possible with your head in the clouds. It's a great paradox that spending a measure of time with your head in the clouds can make you better-equipped to keep your feet on the ground.

There's a lot of that behavior I hope he never outgrows, and I hope he gets the most out of every summer he has. He'll only get so many, and one day, all to soon, he'll realize how many of them are already in the past. So I vote for letting him zoom around the house all he wants while his imagination and enthusiasm still have that much influence.

But if I see any spurs, I'm gonna hide 'em. From experience, I know it's the humane thing to do.