A Maturation of Idols

When I was a boy, my fantasy heroes were many. Hidden in archives, my parents have Polaroids of me in all variety of costume: Lone Ranger, Indiana Jones, Zorro—to name a few. I had all the comic-cover and movie-poster poses and facial expressions down pat. I remember running around inside—and outside—the house, in my Batman pajamas, while my best friend got the Robin ones. I told him it was because he was smaller (which he was), but the truth was: I had control issues (which I still do, as you’ll see). Teenage girls in the neighborhood laughed at us, equal parts adoration and pity.