My husband and I grew up in the 50's, in the early years of television. Cowboy westerns were popular (Hopalong Cassidy and The Lone Ranger were favorites with kids). My dad liked to watch Gunsmoke and my mom watched soap operas. But everyone in the family enjoyed watching Superman.
"Yes, it's Superman - strange visitor from another planet who came to Earth with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men. Superman! Who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for Truth, Justice, and the American Way!"
So, you might wonder why I'm reminiscing about a black and white weekly television series from the 1950's. Blame it on Pumpkin.
Somehow, despite the fact that my years on earth were still in single digits, I knew that the "man of steel" was just pretend. (My DH, however, was not quite so astute. His mom tells me that he donned a blanket to use as a cape and jumped from atop a fire hydrant to fly through the air. Things didn't work quite as planned, but it took him only one broken collar bone to deduce that flying wasn't in his repertoire.)
I think, however, he might have told that story to our Pumpkin. This evening I watched in horror as our little man leaped from the balcony of our home to the entryway below--a drop of about 9 feet (one for each life).
Don't worry, he's fine. But I've discovered 5 more white hairs.
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In retrospect, I think I know where Pumpkin got the notion that he could fly. I'm pretty sure our senior kitty, Miss Kyla, whispered to him something like "Hey, want to really have some fun? Jump off the balcony. You're soar through the air--it's amazing."
She's been looking rather pensive lately. Probably thinking to herself "Damn, even that didn't kill the little stinker. He's still here!
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