May 16, 1991. My joint birthday party with my older cousin, Becky.
She has since decided to go by Becca.
My earliest memory. My fourth birthday party. We would share birthday parties several times during the course of my childhood with her birthday on the 16th and mine the 14th of May. This year the birthday party took place on her birthday and very few individual days, looking back, have shaped my personality more than this day.
May 16, 1991.
I remember two birthday presents that I got that year, one was a weebles town set. Two decks, two detachable blue ramps that connected them allowing the weeble cars to get the weebles to and fro on their daily commute. It also had a clock tower. The clock tower, for me being the important part of the town set because it was perfect for a tiny grappling hook to latch on to.
Which brings me to the second present and what was, in fact, my actual first memory. Holding it in my hand. That was my first memory, holding it in my hand and thinking how impossibly awesome it was. How perfect. How cool.
It was Batman.
He was perfect with his belt that pulled off and acted as a grappling hook. Even then, at four years old, I could see the contrast between Batman and the weebles.
The weebles with their cars and their businesses and their daily commutes. The weebles with their toll gates and their doctors offices and their garage doors.
Batman. The Batman. THE GODDAMN BATMAN.
I think, if you boil it all down, that’s all I want in my life- fighting the balance, no matter how small, even if I end up being 99% weeble…trying to be 1% Batman.
There’s no moral to this story.