Astronauts, Superheroes and Cowboys

As a four year-old, Space Exploration was something I took seriously for a short time.            

The wood pile could supply the resources to build a rocket but no rocket fuel and Dad said he needed all the tractor diesel. He also told me, ‘Things burn up when they leave the atmosphere.’ (no idea, but it sounded bad). So it was back to cowboys and indians, Native Americans for a while. That was until I discovered Superheroes, I tried Batman

but I realised I was an impostor, so the quest for a new Superhero began. Many boy superheroes were already taken such as Superboy and Robin, etc. I considered Daredevil Boy, but Daredevil was blind and my mum became increasingly worried for her ornaments as I crashed around with my eyes shut. Spiderboy was an option but I couldn’t get a spider to bite me, my mum and sister’s screams as I ran around with spiders crawling up my arm gave me the impression this was not a popular choice. Then I had it, Hawkboy, there was a Hawkman, but no boy. I developed a costume, a yellow polo neck and a pair of my mum’s old tights over a black pair of shorts with a cardboard mask (I wasn’t planning on leaving the atmosphere so cardboard would be fine.)

 

One August day an eight-year old and his mum are picking blackberries, she has no idea that her son is a Superhero and wearing his costume beneath his ordinary clothes. I knew there was going to be a crime wave that afternoon but, as I sank into a lethargic state of heat exhaustion I began to have doubts about said costume and confided in my mum. A mother’s intuition is a wonderful thing.                                                                         Apparently she was aware of Hawkboy, but had no idea it was me. We discussed the possibilities of a crime wave on a farm that was five miles from the nearest village and then came up with a solution. If I was to change into my alter ego, Hawkboy he could assist this strange lady (as a superhero I had no recollection of who my mum was) by protecting her from the bramble thorns. During the day my mum pointed out to me that it was commendable to want to protect the planet but Roy Rogers and John Wayne never got covered in bramble thorn scratches. Maybe being a cowboy wasn’t such a bad gig after all. 😉