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Jul. 14th, 2007 10:18 amI grew up on superheros. Growing up, I wasn't just entertained by the larger-than-life antics taking place in four color glory: I was learning about life, and how to live it with honor and dignity. The people the books were about may have been running around in funny costumes, but they stood for something beyond just beating the crap out of whoever that month's villain was.
The Fantastic Four taught me that family was important. They may do things to piss you off, deliberately or no, but at the end of the day, that's who you knew would have your back. Spider-Man showed me that even though the odds against you might seem impossible, you had to keep fighting. My belief in equal rights was in no small way taught to me in Xavier's mansion, as his X-Men fought to protect a world that hated and feared them.
And Captain America made me a more dedicated patriot than I otherwise might have been - definitely a more thoughtful one. As he showed time and again, it wasn't just about wearing your country's colors. He set those aside at least twice, in both cases because his government had failed him. But even when he stopped wearing the red, white and blue, he believed in the ideals his homeland was founded upon. Whether those in charge of it did or not wasn't the point. Someone had to keep the faith, and even in his darkest days, he held on tight. When they made a replica of his shield a few years back, I bought one, and when in the first day of one of my classes I was asked what possession of mine was my favorite, it didn't take me long to say this was it.
And now Captain America is dead, victim of a storyline that for all its attempts at relevance did not deserve him. I felt sad when he was killed, but the stories that are unfolding in his book, showing how the people who were a part of his life are dealing with their grief and loss, are good stuff. I thought I was ok with it.
But then I read this blog entry about his death, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest hard enough to tear out my fucking heart. It's a damned fine tribute to Cap, and why he matters.
Rest in peace, Captain. You've earned it.
The Fantastic Four taught me that family was important. They may do things to piss you off, deliberately or no, but at the end of the day, that's who you knew would have your back. Spider-Man showed me that even though the odds against you might seem impossible, you had to keep fighting. My belief in equal rights was in no small way taught to me in Xavier's mansion, as his X-Men fought to protect a world that hated and feared them.
And Captain America made me a more dedicated patriot than I otherwise might have been - definitely a more thoughtful one. As he showed time and again, it wasn't just about wearing your country's colors. He set those aside at least twice, in both cases because his government had failed him. But even when he stopped wearing the red, white and blue, he believed in the ideals his homeland was founded upon. Whether those in charge of it did or not wasn't the point. Someone had to keep the faith, and even in his darkest days, he held on tight. When they made a replica of his shield a few years back, I bought one, and when in the first day of one of my classes I was asked what possession of mine was my favorite, it didn't take me long to say this was it.
And now Captain America is dead, victim of a storyline that for all its attempts at relevance did not deserve him. I felt sad when he was killed, but the stories that are unfolding in his book, showing how the people who were a part of his life are dealing with their grief and loss, are good stuff. I thought I was ok with it.
But then I read this blog entry about his death, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the chest hard enough to tear out my fucking heart. It's a damned fine tribute to Cap, and why he matters.
Rest in peace, Captain. You've earned it.
