Captain America

Captain America likes pancakes. A superhero’s day requires a solid start, you know, to prepare him for all that saving the helpless, rescuing the planet and protecting freedom. It’s fun to watch; he devours pancakes like he devours life – one adventure at a time. 

Some days he doesn’t like being a superhero at all. That feeling of being different from everyone else is something he despises. He’s unhappy being unique and longs to fit in. What he doesn’t know is that, except for the uniform, he is really very normal. He’s more like you and me than he realizes. 

This is not to say, by the way, that Captain America isn’t special.  In fact, over time I’ve come to see this particular hero is extraordinary in so many ways.  He fits over in the corner of things and not in the center, like others do. It took a while for me to see him as he is.  He carries an indestructible shield – his only physical defense against evil. He holds it very, very close most of the time. I tried all sorts of things to get a look behind the shiny red, white and blue star-clad armor.  I nudged it, poked it and pulled at it, and even kicked it a few times just to see what would happen.  It didn’t budge. 

Captain America’s greatest weapons are his intellect and wit. He is smart, with remarkable insight and the ability to see things for what they might be.  He can dissect things, describe their parts, and he can reconstruct them for you while explaining how they fit together. He’s funny without being goofy, and clever without at all being obvious. He’s one of those guys whose jokes you get about 30 seconds after he says them. He has an easy way about him and, like me, he connects with everyone around him. His seemingly boundless energy is contagious and it’s obvious in how he works and, more importantly, how he plays. You can’t be with him without enjoying where you are, and without seeing his potential for greatness and wanting to come along. Being with him is like riding in a convertible with the top down. 

He happened along when I wasn’t aware that I needed a superhero.  I was a bit lost -- that, I knew. One day, out of the blue he was just standing there directly in the center of my path.  As I stumbled along he stopped me and asked if I wanted to sit down. Before that I hadn’t realized how tired I was.  I took him up on it.

He didn’t offer to rescue me. He sat there with his bright blue shirt, which you couldn’t help but

notice was the same color as his eyes, and he listened. He asked me questions and without thinking too much about it, I answered them. He seemed to understand me, this man I didn't know. He was a surprisingly warm and comfortable refuge. For the first time in a long time, I talked about what was really going on.  In the shelter of Captain America, I told the truth. 

Something unexpected followed.  As I told him about me, as he nodded and offered his particular brand of wisdom, he forgot about his shield. At first it was barely noticeable, the way it began to lower down just slightly, maybe about a half an inch or so. I asked him to tell me about his adventures and crusades, his wins and losses. And as he talked, I watched his arm relax and his defenses release. Before long his shield was lying flat on the table. 

This hero is incredibly vulnerable without his protection. You can sense his discomfort as he unconsciously fidgets with his empty hands. He is such a thoughtful and expert listener, but he is cautious and measured when he reveals himself. It’s not that he is unwilling to show weakness. It’s just that he’s afraid of things he doesn’t understand and of problems he can’t fully define. He sometimes doesn't have words.  It’s obvious he spends hours in private contemplation with his intensely brooding mind. 

He doesn’t like to divulge his thoughts, and definitely not his secrets. But from time to time he lets me have them. He knows I will guard them and take good care of them. He knows I understand them, because they are so much like my own. He believes me when I tell him that our secrets make us sick.  We are brave souls, he and I. We are willing to give up what’s safe in order to see what is possible beyond our view. We know that to miss what is possible is to miss it all. 

It’s not often a girl gets to have her own real, live superhero. I am grateful for what he teaches me, and for what he is willing to learn. I think we’ll be friends for awhile. We are not meant to brave the world alone, and most definitely not without our pancakes.