West Jordan, Utah has been spared the sweet oblivion of eradication.

That’s right, friends and neighbors, I have broadband once more. And life is good again. I won’t, however, mention the fact that my computer took me through all Nine Circles of Hell to get certain things up and running. That’s not important. The important things are: I was appeased and I didn’t have to shut off almost 100,000 minds at once and turn this town into a wasteland. I was scheduled for installation between 11 am and 2 pm; the techs were here at 10:33 am… and the whole thing was in and ready at 11:30. And they were pleasant gentlemen, to boot! This reaffirms my opinion of the people who work for Sprint Broadband.

I was productive today, too – I was a wee bit domestic and did laundry. Four loads. I considered doing the dishes, but I didn’t want to seem overly ambitious. But four loads, washed, dried, folded or hung, and put away….. that’s not too shabby. During a break, I was rereading something. I think that it’s worth sharing…

    “This is just the story of a boy.

    “Adults get the opportunity, eventually, to choose who they are. Children do not.

    “Children come into this world with no say in the matter. No one asks you what kind of parents you want. No one asks you what environment you think you would do best in.

    “You just wake up one day — and you’re in the world. You wake up and look around you… and see the hand that’s been dealt you. What the world has in store for you…

    “Contrary to popular belief, we do live in a world of equals. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to make themselves feel superior or perhaps even inferior. Some of us have ethnic diversity. Some of us have sexual diversity. Some of us — some of us can even fly. Some of us are Peter Pan.

    Every once in a while the world surprises even the most jaded — of which I must include myself — with someone like Timmy. Timmy was born into this world just like the rest of us… and, like many of us, he has spent every single conscious moment of it trying, trying, as best he can, to tune it all out. Because just like the rest of us, no one asked Timmy who he would like for parents. No one asked Timmy what kind of environment he would like to live in. Certainly, no one told Timmy that sometimes life just isn’t fair. That sometimes people can be mean for no good reason. That people who say they love you, can treat you badly.

    “But most importantly, no one bothered to tell Timmy that these things are not his fault.

    “Many people have said to me: Who cares about a guy named *name omitted*? And I say: Certainly not I. In my moral dictionary, that man lost his membership rights to the human race a long time ago. They can leave him where they eventually find him.

    “I care about a remarkable little boy named Timmy. And what makes him so remarkable to me? When faced with no other choice, Timmy rose up and faced his mortal fear head on. He did this and came out the other side to tell about it. And though I’ve met a lot of different types in my time, I can honestly say I don’t know a lot of people who can claim such a task. But I wish I did. I wish I was like Timmy.

    “…and I just wanted to tell you his story.”

The above was taken from issue #19 of Daredevil, from Marvel Comics’ “Marvel Knights” line. It was written by Brian Michael Bendis. I had not read much of his work prior to his becoming lead writer on another title, but from what I have read of his work since then, I will follow his writing more carefully. I bought this issue “blindly,” I just thought that it looked interesting. After reading it, however, I know that it was one of the best random purchases that I have made. It speaks volumes to me that in a twenty-three page story – and one where at least one-third of it was “silent” – you can be given a brief view into someone’s “life” and think “Wow.” Even more than that, it’s a great gift to be able to write something, regardless of the format or the length, and make someone just stop and think; I hope to be able to do that with my writing.

I’ve known a few Timmys in my life; I can even recount a point in my life where I was Timmy. Possibly, we all have. Conversely, we may know someone who never knew, or never accepted, the fact that they do have control over parts of their life. The only thing that separates Timmy from you or me is that he is a character in a book and lives in a world where people can fly or breathe water or shoot some sort of “laser beam” from their eyes or hands. Timmy is you. Timmy is me. Just someone trying to get through life one day at a time.

“I wish I was like Timmy.” And if I can do what he did, and possibly find a way to use that knowledge and fortitude of character to help someone else, then I don’t think that being like Timmy is a bad thing at all.

That’s something to think about.

Peace.