I Am Marvel - How I Became Super: Part Three
Recalling third grade when I lost my superpowers.
This part of the story seems the most far-fetched but you’ll have to believe me that it is the most true. Yes I am talking “mythic” truth but what other truth is more true to a child?
We love to dismiss the imagination as fancy and fiction, but there is plenty of research to show that our personal mythology has far more impact on our day to day behavior than measurable facts. In fact, we hate facts. They suck—we all agree here. Compared to Santa, the tooth fairy, ghosts, aliens and superheroes, facts don’t have a chance.
So read this as how I experienced my childhood. I could fly, I did come in third, Tony was attacked and I did lose my powers. Yes, I used my imagination to fill in the hazy parts but you will see that it makes mythic sense. You will FEEL that this part of the story is true. And sad. And frightening. And delightful. And terribly real.
There is a children’s version of the story on Sparkle Stories here
The first time I realized I could fly, I was 7.
I can remember waking up in the middle of the night with an urge to go downstairs. I can recall walking down the carpeted stairs vaguely hearing my parents asleep in their room. Everything had a magical glow to it as I tiptoed to the living room and positioned myself in the center of the room and stood still. After about a minute I noticed this tingling sensation in my left leg. I reached down and felt compelled to pick up the leg and placed it over my other knee, criss-cross style. Then I –its hard to explain – I felt the urge to pull all my body weight up to the area around my heart and when I kind of gathered it all right here I then pulled it outside of my body. Then I was tingly all over. So then lifting up the other leg was easy. With all my body weight right here, outside of my body I just hovered over the ground. I did this for only a few seconds and got tired so I put my legs back down. I stood there for a moment until I felt the tingling fade. Wow, I remember saying. Then I padded back upstairs and went back to bed.
There were a few other times I can recall hovering like this but one time I really flew. I was running through the apple orchard that was down the road from our house. I was probably 8. I had four or five stolen Mackintosh apples in my pocket and was running faster and faster and then I got the same tingling sensation in my legs and so I tried to pull my weight up and then I started bounding – like you can do with a grocery cart – big long bounds. They got bigger until only the tips of my toes were touching the ground and then I pushed off and flew into the air. In no time I was above the trees. Then I could see Mr. Peters driving his truck in my direction and I dropped. I landed in a tree and got a bunch of scratches but no injuries. I brushed myself off and ran home.
Back in the hide-out, ManyMary typed for a moment before commenting,
Good, flying, that’s good – very useful. It’s rare but sometimes people remember more than one, can you recall anything else?
She didn’t even need to ask. After recalling the flying, there was this flood of memories from my early childhood.
They were like old friends – memories that had been lost for decades. Like I could remember hearing and talking to my dog – like he was a person. Whenever Whiskers would look at me I would hear a voice in my head, a male voice, a scruffy voice like Peter Coyote’s, and it would tell me simple things like “I need to go to the bathroom” or “Could I have a biscuit?” After a while though, I figured out how to say things to him, and he’d really listen. He didn’t really respond much, but I knew he was hearing me and seemed interested. The coolest was when we had a few Lassie moments where I needed him to run home and get my Mom because my brother Tim had crashed on his bike. And Whiskers did.
Another power was that I could tell when someone was lying. But it was more complex than that. I could almost hear what the truth was. It was a little like the voice of my dog but less like real words and more like a nagging pull. It’s hard to explain, but bottom line is I didn’t like this power. It was confusing. The teacher would say something and this nagging voice would say something else. My parents would tell me stuff and the nag would distract me. I remembered trying to ignore it all the time.
One other thing came to me. I was pretty sure I could also spit really far and accurately. I remembered really liking this one. I could recall spitting and hitting my brother in the back of the head as he sped past on his new two-wheeler. That resulted in him crashing his bike and I sent Whiskers to the rescue.
I remembered knowing that this was unusual and other kids did not have special powers like this. But it was almost like it was some kind of family secret – no big deal, just keep your mouth shut. I didn’t have a problem with that. This was my life – no big deal. Until third grade, I had no major complaints. Third grade was when my superpowers disappeared.
The capgun fired and seven third graders flew forward. Right from the start three of them were out front: Tony Ransburg, Heidi LaTeure and me. I was right with Heidi, but Tony was doing something strange – he’d speed ahead and slow down and speed ahead and slow down. It wasn’t too obvious, but I could tell what was going on. He had super-speed and he was trying not to show it. He tooled it so that he won but not by too much. The judges didn’t seem to notice anything unusual and he was awarded the field games gold ribbon for the sprint. He also won the long distance. I thought about taking his example and winning the high jump, but I wisely chose not to. The following Monday would be a disaster for Tony.
Tony was a hero for me. He was popular but still kind, and he was unflappable. No one could get under his skin or get him riled up. I was new to the school and had a hard time finding my new place. I was into imaginative play and sweet toys – which served only to attract teasing and ridicule.
So Tony was my chance. I studied him and tried him on. I walked like him and moved my hands like him. And I watched him run. Then I could tell he had special powers too. We had that in common. I thought about telling him about me after the field days, but something really horrible happened on Monday.
Our teacher was Mrs. Chapman. She was really old and skinny and had short pinkish curled grey hair. She was tall, I think, and wore flowered dresses. She smelled like powder and polyester. I knew she was mean, so I wasn’t surprised when she yelled at Tony for no reason
.
What is that smile. This is funny for you?
No, I didn’t
Don’t talk to me. It is rude to interrupt. Do you interrupt at home Anthony, do you? Answer me, do you interrupt your mother at your house, Anthony?
No.
You don’t – you only interrupt me do you. Well, you need to know something Anthony, running like that at the field games does not give you license to run your mouth at me young man.
I wasn’t talking.
Don’t you talk back to me! Don’t you speak to me! You’re so fast you can’t understand that! Running fast gives you nothing young man! Nothing! So now how fast are you Anthony – how fast? How fast? How fast?
And then she bent over his desk, grabbed him by the shoulders and started to shake him. She was in a total rage and Tony was crying. When she stopped, she was suddenly calm and closely looked him over – examined him. Then she said “Good,” and went back to the lesson. Tony folded his head in his arms and kept on crying quietly.
He never ran fast again. His speed never returned. And he wasn’t faking it – he tried.
As for me, I knew what was up. She had pinned him like I did. She knew he had special powers and she attacked him because of them. There was no way, consequently, that I was going to show mine. I stopped using them, including when I was alone. In time, I forgot they ever existed. They became a dream I had when I was a kid. And that was that.