It’s my first day back at work after 5 days at home, recovering from a minor surgery. I had a cyst removed from my lower back on friday, and despite the painkillers it still hurts to walk, lean over, and especially sit down. Driving to work this morning was pretty unpleasant and i'm not looking forward to the return trip, but being at work - standing at my tall desk - is not too bad. If I could get to work without walking or sitting I'd be set, although I'd still rather be at home on the sofa.
I've been very blessed the last few days, though, despite my need for a thrice-daily percocet. My mom stayed in town an extra week after my parents' weekend visit to see me thru the experience, ignoring my protests that it wasn't necessary. She was at her supportive, nurturing best all weekend, even down to planning leftover meals to see me thru my days home alone after she'd flown back to Montana. She tucked me in on the sofa in front of my favorite cartoons; we played cribbage and talked about books, religion and the challenges of life; she did laundry, made breakfast, and forced me to relax like I was supposed to. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that she knew better than I where and when she was needed. My house felt very empty Monday without her.
Danielle came through for me, too, checking in on me multiple times every day, and going out of her already-exceedingly-compassionate-way to be helpful and available. Mom asked her to pick up post-surgery snack food for me and she arrived arms brimming with a bounteous feast that I'm still indulging in days later. Since he couldn't be there in person, Dad made an extra effort to check in throughout every day with support, health and surgery-related advice, and the wise reassurance that I can always count on him for. Friends called to check on me. Steph even stopped by to visit and ordered me a pizza. All weekend I was ridiculously well cared-for.
One of the ways I passed my time on the sofa the past several days was with episodes of Justice League Unlimited, one of the best interpretations of the DC Comics universe to date and one of my new favorite animated addictions. It’s an excellent series (and the critics agree with me) that seamlessly mixes together classic superheroes and new ones while still maintaining a setting that makes sense for all of them, and that incorporates deeper character development, romantic interests, mature humor, X-Files-esque episode-spanning conspiracies and more intense conflicts, action scenes and special effects than any live-action movie. If I hadn't already given you that impression, I highly recommend it.
It’s fun and addictive to watch, and after taking in 5 straight seasons of it this weekend the idealistic world of these superheroes started to almost brainwash me. I started to wonder if I shouldn't be more like these fictional people, risking their lives every day to save people they sometimes barely know simply because it’s the right thing to do. I don't rescue anyone at my job, and I risk my life more walking to Starbucks than I do in the line of duty. Should I be training in martial arts and hand-to-hand combat in my spare time, in case I should need to escape a sticky situation or defend a loved one from someone devious? I did say “almost" brainwash, though - I'm not quitting the tech industry to go become a firefighter just yet. But it’s certainly got wheels turning in my head for the next few days, as much as I think a good, eye-opening book gives your brain something to chew on for a bit. After talking it over with Sara I found I wasn't the only one questioning the track I was on, especially as that 30-year milestone looms closer and that perspective made my non-superhuman-powers seem more adequate and my lack of valiant accomplishments more palatable.
Then last night as I was settling into the sofa for the millionth time in my ultra-long weekend Danielle called me from downtown, stranded with an empty gas tank. I know she hated to call and wrest me from my relaxation and my flannel pants and that she tried closer, more ambulatory friends first but in the end she needed my help and, as her big brother, that’s my job. A gallon of gas and 45 minutes later she was on her way home and so was I, tired and sore from sitting in the driver’s seat in my condition but without remorse or resentment, just relieved that I was available and able when needed.
That’s when I realized it doesn't take heat vision or super-strength to be a hero, and while helping people may not be my career it is still my job - and all of ours. All weekend these types of everyday heroes came to my aid, and it is my duty to do the same whenever it is asked of me. If I learned anything from 20 hours of animated gallantry it’s that the world needs all the Supermen and Wonder Women it can get, and that we're all in a position to make decisions, take action and leave a legacy of courage, justice and compassion. I know it’s idealist - and this certainly wouldn't be the first time I've been accused of swinging idealism around like a big, glowing mace - but if idealism can keep this entire (albiet fictional) universe running, I don't think a little more of it is going to do ours any harm.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find a phone booth.
