I was a young impressionable six-year-old the night we went to the movie theatre to watch Superman, the one starring Christopher Reeves. I was in awe. He was so real to me, there on the big screen. I knew right then that I wanted to be Superman.
I wanted to be called Clark Kent at school, so my mom sent a note to the principal, who gave it to all the teachers. My teacher kept calling me by my old name, which made me mad.
My first cape was a red towel safety-pinned to a blue shirt. I spent hours running around the house, jumping off chairs, practicing my flying skills from the back of the couch. When my parents called me by my given name I’d tell them “no, I’m Superman”, and they’d tell me, “yes, son, you can be anything you want to be.”
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