World events, a psychological view – Page 76

It was a strange morning.

A good friend posted on my Facebook wall, “Is Joe Paterno still your hero?”

How can someone be my hero when he allowed a sexual predator to go free?

Then I dressed for my morning workout with a blue Penn State T-shirt and pulled a plain gray sweatshirt over it. The thought crossed my mind that I could still wear the Penn State T-shirt because it was hidden by my sweatshirt. That made me sad and then very angry. “JoePa, why did you do this to me?” Instinctively personalizing the whole sordid story.

To look up to someone older and wiser is human nature. It starts when we’re babies and our parents are our omnipotent heroes. We continue this need, but shift the power to teachers, sports figures or presidents. Some even shift it to a god — an all powerful presence. In fact, most of the world takes great comfort in religion.

Or; some of us chose JoePa. But whoever we chose, at some point he will most certainly fail us. Human beings and gods can’t control everything. Perfection doesn’t exist.

Todd Blackledge, a former Penn State quarterback and now an ESPN college football analyst described it well. He said he still loved Paterno and considered him a mentor.

But I also know that all humans are frail. All humans are weak in moments. And you can’t have your trust totally in other human beings, because they’ll let you down. It’s not just privilege that comes with authority, it’s also accountability and responsibility… Someone needed to go to the police.

Goodbye, JoePa. I’m going to miss you and miss my fantasy.

A few months ago, I was watching the Adventures of Ironman, with Dylan, the 3-year-old son of a friend. As we sat together in the dark family room, Dylan said, “Uncle Art, I like Ironman.”

“He is cool,” I answered.

A short time later, Dylan said, “I really like him.”

“Me too.”

After another series showing Ironman whipping the bad guys into submission, Dylan said, “I think I want to be him.” He sat riveted on the sofa, his eyes never leaving the TV screen.

“That would definitely be interesting.”

A minute later, Dylan got off the sofa and stood in front of me. “I am Ironman,” he said.

I nodded and smiled at him.

“You don’t understand, Uncle Art, “I AM IRONMAN. I really am.” His little chest was all puffed out and he was flexing both his arms, showing me how huge his biceps were.

“Sometimes I wish I could him too,” I answered.

A few weeks later when I saw Dylan again, he was all decked out wearing a Spiderman costume. “What happened to Ironman?” I asked.

“I’m Spiderman now. Watch!” He bent his legs, spread his arms, and assumed a perfect Spiderman pose. He WAS Spiderman, and I was stuck still being me.

Why do most kids develop a passion for superheroes? To me, the answer is pretty obvious. The world is a scary place. Really scary and really violent. The “mature” adults don’t believe in superheroes, they believe that their religion or religious sect or religious patron is more powerful than their competitors’ religion. They are willing to die for it, and see the rest of us non-believers or different-believers as the enemy.

If only we could choose to be Ironman or Spiderman or Everyman and give everyone the free choice to be whoever they want to be. Maybe, if I were Joe Belmont…