The Power of Heros


I once tied a towel around my neck and stood in the second story window of my parent's house. I was going to save the world, but first, someone had to save me. It wasn't going to be my older brother; he was cheering me on. My father was busy building bridges, and my mother was scrambling to keep up with my little brother. No, my hero was the shirtless grumpy old man across the street that simply yelled at me to get my stupid butt back inside. I never thanked him for saving my life that day; in fact, I'm pretty sure I egged his house later that year.