I’ve run out of superheros. Not the comic book versions with their fictional powers, noble intentions and whimsical capes. I’m talking about the real life superheros. The ones who live virtuous, genuine lives. The ones who change hearts, transform lives and inspire the world. The ones who use their talent – their sheer brilliance – to make the universe a better place.
Maya Angelou died today.
Who’s left? A rapper named half-dollar – oh, excuse me, it’s 50 Cent (why isn’t this plural?) – who has bad aim? I’ll pass. I could idolize Puff Daddy – or is it P Diddy or just Diddy, or have we settled on Sean Combs? I suppose he simply needs to work out his commitment issues before comfortably revealing his own superpowers to the world. Of course, there’s always Kim, the perpetual bride.
Hrumph. The world has clearly run out of superheros.
I never stood in Maya Angelou’s audience and I never shook her hand, I simply listened to her speak. I heard her voice reciting her own brilliant works, always calling for humans to act like humans. I am happy that I managed to share space in this world with at least one brilliant mind, one noble human being, one genuine superhero.