I never quite understood how no one ever could identify Clark Kent as Superman. Couldn’t they see past the simple glasses? It was an enigma, one I thought I would never understand; that is, until my son’s bris. Apart from family and neighborhood friends, I invited my store manager, Andrew, to the festivities. A year earlier, my older brother had worked for a few months in the same store that I currently contract with. He developed an excellent report with Andrew. Andrew was polite enough to put on a kippa for the ceremony. At some point prior to the bris, Andrew went over and gave my brother a warm greeting. My brother politely said hello but it was obvious from the blank stare in his eyes that he did not recognize Andrew. With a glance to the right and then casually to the left, Andrew reconnoitered the scene. No one would witness. He quickly removed his clever headgear and revelation occurred. My brother immediately recognized him; the veil of secrecy parted and the Cone of Silence was raised. They proceeded to chat like old friends.
Who would have thought it would be so simple? What an ingenious disguise our sages made for us. I thought I could never blend in like a spy. But now, I believed, I had discovered an impenetrable camouflage, one that was impervious to outside detection. Unfortunately, over time, my cover was blown. It’s unsettling having your secret identity revealed. Apparently, I am a superhero and didn’t even know it. By day, I am the custodial father of many little children and care for them by myself all weekend (a nanny helps while I work weekdays). People marvel that as a single dad I can keep it together, feed, clothe, bathe, teach, love & play with my children. By night,…well, use your imagination – more of the same. So now you know-I’m Superman. Yet, I don’t feel that way at all. In fact, I feel almost human; unable to give my children all that they deserve. But I am flattered that others think I’m doing a bang-up job. I thought I was an anomaly until a single mom-of-many asked me how come no one calls single moms with the same responsibilities, ‘superheroes’. Why are they not afforded the same status? I responded that they clearly deserve such and with both fists against my waist, elbows < >, chest out firm, cape billowing in the wind, I bestowed upon her superwoman status.
Perhaps people just think it normal for women to wear colored tights and thus their ‘hero’ outfit goes by unrecognized.