A Hero for Midge

When we were kids, my brother used to pick on me. He poked me repeatedly until my shoulder was raw. When the phone rang for me, he held it captive while sitting on my stomach until I gave in and admitted he was king or insulted myself. When we were home alone, he threw nickels at my head.

But, he was my brother all the same. We built forts together. When I was scared, we hid in his room. He walked me to school on my first day of kindergarten. Then he feigned exasperation as he returned my wave in the halls. We played games against one another on our parents' computers, and we danced like fools when our favorite shows came on the television.

He was bigger, and older, so my brother nearly always picked. Everything. TV shows. Radio Stations. Video games. Movies. The occasional book. For this reason, I logged many hours grudgingly learning about G.I. Joes, Calvin and Hobbes, Power Rangers, and most all comic superheroes.

I never thought of my brother as a protective one. Sure, he helped me out occasionally, but mostly with menial tasks that weren't significant enough to be remembered distinctly. When it came to more distressing issues, he didn't seem willing to come to my aid. I specifically remember asking him once to beat up someone who had wronged me. He turned me down.

"Handle it yourself Midge," he told me, seemingly indifferent to my struggles.

Secretly, I craved a brother that cared enough to come to my rescue. I wanted someone to protect me from the bullies of the world. I yearned for him to shelter me from bad experiences, and lift me up when I couldn't reach my solutions. But most of all, I wanted a brother I could be closer to.

As I step tentatively into adulthood, foraging my path and tripping along the way, I'm beginning to see the past differently. As a child, I hated my involuntary exposure to the modern mythology of superheroes. Now, I have developed a kind of affinity for them. I enjoy the stories hidden below the surface. With a more mature vantage point, I see the subtle communication about the human condition. I recognize the archetypes, and I am beginning to understand the allegories.

No one escapes from this world. One way or another, we are all forced to deal with the realities of our existence. Learning to cope, respond, and overcome this is vital, and help often comes in an unexpected costume.

I hadn't seen it before, but my brother was preparing me for this experience. That distance I saw between us was merely perceived. When it came to navigating the complexities of the world, he was actually an incredible guide. He has always been there, watching me from the sidelines. By pulling back, my brother was protecting me. He was sending me a message:

"You are strong, and you can do this."

So, I no longer wish for the stereotypical older brother to loom over me, fight my battles, and hold me back from the world. I understand now, that what I have is infinitely better. I may not see him all the time, but I know that he's there motivating and protecting me in a way that only super heroes can.