Showing posts with label heroism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heroism. Show all posts

Monday, May 15, 2017

Superman and the Pigeons #T

Travel has become one of those frenetic activities I no longer engage in, so I asked a stringer in Metropolis to seek out Superman, see how he's doing these days.

Jimmy, no not that Jimmy, found the old superhero on a park bench.  The red cape was tightly wrapped around his shoulders, sunny day but a bit brisk, you see.  The great man was feeding the pigeons flocking around his feet.  A big bronze-and-white bird swooped in for a landing, sailed over Superman's left shoe and dropped a bit of whitener right on the toe of the brogan.

"Drat!"

"Excuse me?"

"Not talking to you, Sonny."

"Would you talk to me if I told you I'm a news reporter looking for an update on our favorite hero?"

"Well, are you?"

Jimmy is not necessarily quick on his feet, nor in his processing, either.  He stammered a bit, then as though someone threw a switch the light came on. "Yes, sir.  I am."

"Whata ya wanna know?"

"Do you ever want to get back into the fray, so to speak?  Catch some bad guys?

"Nah.  Too many of them; catch one, five spring up to take his place.  Or hers."

"But what will become of us, then?"

"Don't ask me. Dozens, hundreds of doomsday scenarios out there.  Pick one."

"Do you feel as though your career has been an exercise in futility, then?"

"Pretty much.  Why don't you just write up whatever you want.  You seem to have all the answers, anyway."

"Sorry.  Just trying to get the story.  Have you any advice?"

"Yes, take the sunshine, feed the pigeons, wipe the kaka off my shoe, and hit the road."

Friday, November 18, 2016

Walter Tell Retold


This from five years ago today, which makes this the 709th anniversary of the famous shot.










Turtle duck turtle duck turtle duck duck duck!


We all recognize instantly the phrase from The William Tell Overture. But this article is not about opera, or music, or Rossini.

Today, if our legends are to be trusted implicitly, is the 704th anniversary of the famous cross-bow shot in Switzerland by one William Tell. It is a story that casts William Tell as a larger-than-life hero. I am of the opinion, however, that the real hero to be memorialized on this date is Tell's son, Walter. In case you need to brush up on your fifth-grade lessons, Tell refused to salute the hat raised on a pole which represented the Habsburg authority in Altdorf. Gessler, Austrian ruler of the dorf, was a harsh and unforgiving despot. He had Tell arrested, and because of Tell's fame as an archer, he required that Tell shoot an apple from his son's head, or both would be executed.

My father never earned any medals for it, because he never entered any competitions. But he had a clear eye and a steady hand which enabled him to be a crack marksman with a rifle. Prior to hunting season each year, we would go to the range to "sight in" the rifles. I have seen him shoot, and he was good. And yet. And yet I think that to persuade me to stand before him with an apple on my head-- oh, no. No, thank you very much. And thus I nominate Walter Tell as the hero of the tale to this point.

At any rate, Tell's shot cleanly split the apple. This is pretty much the end of the school-child tale as I recall it from my ten-year old experience. But Gessler had noted that Tell had taken two bolts from his quiver prior to the shot, so he asked, Why the second bolt? Tell replied had he killed his son, he would have put the second bolt through Gessler himself. Irate, Gessler had Tell arrested. One might like to read the rest of the tale, for it ultimately cost Gessler his life, and forever immortalized William Tell as a Swiss Hero.

Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Butterflies and Heroes

A typical Millennial, she was not the least bit interested in anything that happened before her lifetime.  How could she have been?  The world did not exist before  her birth, nor would it survive after her demise. She is the world, there is none else, only transient and ephemeral players provided as if from her own imagination solely for her own pleasure and amusement.

The Butterfly Syndrome.  They are born, cocooned, break from their chrysalis, flit through an unthinking and unsatisfying life, seeking entertainment only, having no concept of the needs of others, nor indeed any concept of the existence of others outside the parameters of the above described amusement.

This could be an accurate portrayal of today's youth.

But it is not, for although there are those in this generation and there have been in every previous generation those who fit the stereotype there are many, perhaps many more who are caring, selfless, concerned for others; those who are determined to make a contribution to the greater good and not to themselves alone.

Most of these young people perform admirably, noticed by few.  Occasionally some of them take extraordinary action, achieving a purpose rising to the level of heroism  Such an example we saw this week in the three young Americans riding a fast train in France.  Anthony Sadler, Spencer Stone, and Alek Skarlatos found themselves unexpectedly at the center of a potential disaster when they disarmed and overpowered  a gunmen intent on murder and mayhem.  Rehearsing the story here would be redundant, for it has been widely aired, as is meet.

Yes, we see much that is disheartening and discouraging.  But I am not yet ready to concede that the human race is doomed.  There is hope.

Word of the day: ephemeral

The italicized clause in the opening paragraph is from The Festival of Insignificance, a novel by Milan Kundera.