When I was 13 years old, I tore a coupon out of a comic book, wrote in my name and address, and mailed it to a company by the name of “Charles Atlas Ltd.” The ad that I answered was written in a comic book format and started out by showing a young man who was a “97 pound weakling” being humiliated in front of his date by a bully kicking sand in his face.
Although I like the Internet and most of its features and benefits, when it comes to sending and receiving communications of any substance, I hate email. I long for the good old days (20 years ago) when people wrote real letters, folded them up, placed them in envelopes addressed to the intended recipients, and mailed them.
Earlier this year, one of my daughters was standing in the hallway of a local school visiting with a small group of girls. The ages of the girls ranged from 14 to 20. As they were talking, a 19-year-old boy they all knew came walking toward them. (For purposes of this discussion, I’m going to call him James.) As James approached, he said to the girls, “Step aside, bitches.”
I recently settled an auto accident injury case for a university professor. For purposes of discussion, I’m going to call him John (not his real name). John told me that he originally came to the United States in the early 1980s to attend college. After graduating, he accepted a job offer from a large U.S. corporation. He eventually became a naturalized citizen of the United States.
After arriving home on a Thursday evening a couple of months ago, I learned that three of my daughters – Mary (20), Christine (18), and Teresa (16) – were planning on going to the midnight showing of the newly released movie The Avengers. When I found out about their plans, I announced, “You’re not going tonight. You can wait one more day and go tomorrow at a more reasonable time.”
Although I grew up watching heroes such as Superman, Batman, and the Lone Ranger on television, my very first heroes were my dad, Carl Williams, and my grand-father, Tom Williams. My grandfather lived next door to my parents and was of Lebanese descent. In Lebanese, a grandfather is referred to as “Jidu.” That’s what all his grandchildren called him: “Jidu.”
Last weekend at the Kapow Comic Convention in London, a representative of DC Comics announced that one of its previously “straight” superheroes was going to come out as being gay. When ABC News later asked Courtney Simmons, DC’s Senior Vice President of Publicity, about the announcement, she confirmed that “one of the major iconic DC characters will reveal that he is gay in a storyline in June.” In a separate interview, Bobby Wayne, the senior Vice President for Sales, said that the company “had evolved,” a reference to President Obama’s recent endorsement of same-sex “marriage.”
Earlier this month, Georgette and I attended a recital for our five-year-old granddaughter Kathryn. The recital was at a local church in Peoria and opened with six girls who were all the same age as our granddaughter. The girls played their tiny violins with their teacher leading them. Their performance lasted about three minutes and consisted of playing repetitive music exercises.