As a boy, I used to thrill at the adventures of Superman, on t.v., and in the comics.
Batman and all the others too, but to me, Superman was the greatest. Even as a boy,
I knew he wasn't real, and I knew the difference between the real, and the unreal.
Yet Superman always seemed like a real entity.

Remember when you realized there was no Santa Claus? An undescribable let down of the spirit.
Your mom and dad went to a lot of trouble to convince you Santa was real. And then, when they
tell you the truth, you sort of aim your anger at them. Why would they lie to me all those years?
But for some of us, there really IS a Santa.

But back to Superman. I really loved the Superman movies with Christopher Reeve.
Silly, of course, but he really brought a believability to the role that George Reeves did not.
(although I love his Superman) Christopher was like a Greek statue and the boy next door.
Smiling sexily, and frowning with rage moments later.

When Christopher Reeve was permanently crippled by a horse riding accident, his career
as an actor was over. Yet he still has a very active career. He is being tested mentally and
physically with every assisted breath. He always has a smile when you see him. He never
utters a discouraging word. He is resolutely positive in the face of this awful imprisonment.
He has audiences with the pope, presidents, potentates and ambassadors from the world over,
and he fronts and represents numerous charities and is a hard working fund raiser.

Let me also add that he is an inspiration to all those similarly afflicted. To all those kids and
adults of all nationalities who know the truth of what it is to be trapped in ones own broken body.
It is difficult to imagine what he must go through every day, just to live. I often wonder where he
gets the strength and courage just to smile. I, with my silly problems and complaints. I don't know
if I could pull off that particular feat of strength.

Never again in this life will he have the thrill and privilege to play the role that brought him so much fame.
But the role he now plays, the role we all must play, the role of being one's self, is his greatest.
He is not performing, but he puts on the bravest, most resolute face of any man in the world.

I know he bears the weight of Superman, as Atlas bears the weight of the world on his shoulders.
I know now, who the real Superman is. Superman, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
Superman, with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men....and who, disguised as
Christopher Reeve, fights a never ending battle for truth, justice, and the American way.

For me, the line between real and fantastic is still a little blurred. I see Reeve's life as a Superman storyline.
The once mightiest man on Earth, brought down by Kryptonite, trapped forever by an evil entity, unable
to be super ever again. But did that stop the man of steel? No. He lives yet. Even in his decline, he is the
mightiest man the world has ever seen. In my eyes, he can still bend steel with his bare hands.
Change the course of mighty rivers, and save America, and the world, from evil.

We make a lot of fuss about heroes. I think the word gets overused sometimes.
Rock stars are not true heroes, nor are baseball stars, or actors. Politicians are rarely heroes, nor are kings.
Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Some people are heroes due to the simple fact that they can get from
one day to the next, no matter how difficult. They are not glorified in movies, books, and t.v.
You will never hear of them. They are quietly heroic, and every day is a fight against a mighty foe.

When I see Christopher Reeve, in his chair, frail, aging, gaunt, I see the Man of Steel. I see him rising up,
stepping forward resolutely, and blasting into the air like a bullet, both fists clenched, squarejawed, impenetrable, indestructable, unstoppable, to save the world from its own evil. We need Superman. We need him now.

Christopher Reeve teaches us that a mortal can rise above himself and become something immortal.
One can sit back and whine and complain about how rough they got it, or one can put on the
bullet proof suit and cape, and crash through solid brick walls.
The bullets that are life's travails, bounce off like watermelon seeds.

Can someone call Clark Kent?
Only he knows how to contact Superman