In the Now: ...reunited...?

Yeah, so, getting temporarily captured by that trickster The Raven was really only the start of it that weekend, you know, when the Genius Patrol got back together. There were other...incidents, let's say...that stood out as Moments That Are Now Officially "Stories"--ones that not only will I be reminded of later, but that the others will tell about me--to each other, to new folks I introduce them to or that they introduce me to--as examples, you know, of what happens when one is around me. So the events at Das Bier Boot (and the colorful text message documentation of it): story. The encounter with the security guard regarding my ID while waiting in line to get into the only late-night liquor store in A Town Near You: story. The unexpected demand for bunting, followed my my immediate extraction of eight yards of red-and-white striped seersucker from my car: story. As I was told repeatedly that weekend: "It's always a story when we go out with you."

And my line of thinking is, well sure, but isn't it always a story when you go out with any SuperHero? And since everyone in the Genius Patrol is a SuperHero, shouldn't that make the events of this weekend, in fact, your basic, daily events? When you think about it, heroes are constantly on a Mission; they are constantly operating on a level if not above than at least other than "normal", mundane, daily existence. We are maintaining the front of a "normal", mundane, daily existence to give us the freedom to pursue our ultimate super-human goals: to champion the underdog; to spread the love; to get your girls' backs; to demand justice for the pink-collar worker. Each SuperHero has her own mission, but whatever it is, fighting for that goal takes you places you wouldn't otherwise go in life, right? It requires bravery and acts of derring-do. It requires steadfast determination and commitment to your calling, no matter what the cost. It requires venturing into the seedy underbelly of your current city or even into the lair of The Raven. Being a SuperHero automatically creates a life that goes far beyond, you know, mowing the lawn and getting groceries and reading the newspaper and discussing the best place to get sushi. The adventurous life is the necessary by-product of the Mission.

Isn't it?

But then I looked around the Genius Patrol's temporary headquarters, checking out each person in turn, and it hit me like a proverbial ton of bricks: everyone has settled down. And when I say "settled down" that doesn't necessarily mean married, kids, house, blah, blah, blah--although in some cases it does--but it also means "settled down" in the way that your grandparents always demanded when they were babysitting you. "Would ya settle down, fer Chrissakes? I'm trying to watch Murder, She Wrote!" Everyone had settled down. No one was nervous or weird, or ecstatic, or on fire, or running to or from something, or in the grips of something that consumed their soul.

When I say that, what I really should say is, no one but me.

I'm the only one who has not settled down, in any sense of the term. I am still the one who constantly gets into scrapes, the one who always ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time, the one who continually encounters shady characters doing shady dealings in shady places. I am the one who is always on the move, always traveling between places, the one who cannot slow down, who cannot stop--not even for a second--because if I do slow down, if I do stop, if I do...I might get caught. And then what would happen to me? And so I left A Town Near You feeling even more so like a hero whose planet of origin has been destroyed...no roots, no home, nothing to keep her grounded...like a girl completely and entirely on her own and so defiant in that condition that even my sidekicks are always non-human and four-wheeled...always ones that have the power to rescue me. Or more accurately, ones that enable me to rescue myself.

And it makes me wonder: have I indeed remained unchanged throughout the years since the Genius Patrol and I last roamed the streets of A Town Near You? Am I the only one who has made no growth, no movement forward, no transformation into something greater and more powerful? Am I as I ever was? And if so, am I okay with that? Is it bad to be the constant? Especially when that constant is so...inconstant?

So I was wondering about this all weekend, really. It constantly sat in my thoughts like the subarachnoid cyst in the lower-left quadrant of my brain (which, incidentally, is possibly the source of my super-powers). But unlike the subarachnoid cyst in the lower-left quadrant of my brain, the wondering became almost unbearable. So after a while at the last big to-do of the weekend, I decided to run away, to check in with people who did not know me when I was in league with the Genius Patrol and to hopefully get some relief from the idea that I should somehow now be different than I am. And as I'm throwing out my quick goodbyes and stepping off the curb to hail my cab, I was grabbed by Gwendolyn, the head of the family known as The Tourists--a league of villains who vowed to destroy the Genius Patrol...until they eventually came over to the side of Justice. And quite out of the blue, Gwen said to me, "You're so inspiring: the way you dress, the way you are, the way you live your life. It's inspiring. You have adventures that no one else has. You're lucky. That's something to be grateful for."

Needless to say, I was caught completely off-guard, and indeed if she and The Tourists were still the leading cartel of villains in A Town Near You, I would have thought it was a trick, a trap. I always suspected Gwen was a clairvoyant (which is certainly preferable to believing that I am as easily read as a Little Golden Book). Looking into her face, it was as if she had plucked the worries right out of my brain, turned them around in her hands and examined them, and then responded. And she was so genuine. I was utterly unprepared at that moment for such sincerity, or such kindness, and my eyes began to swell with tears. I was so struck that all I could do was grip her hand for a second and say a simple, "Thank you..." before throwing myself into the backseat of the cab and instructing the driver to get me back to the East Side as quickly as possible.

That was about a month ago now, and I think about what Gwen said a lot. I don't know if I'm completely sold on it, but I do think she's onto something. I could be mowing the lawn and reading the paper and discussing the best place to get sushi, but I'm not. I could be selling insurance and changing diapers and paying a mortgage, but I'm not. I could be in front of the television watching Criminal Minds, sat next to some guy I've hitched my wagon to but have run out of conversation with, but I'm not. That's lucky. That's something to be grateful for. And I am.

And if I'm still nervous and weird and eternally curious about inappropriate or dangerous things; if I'm still constantly running to something or from something; if I'm still prone to fits of ecstasy and despair; if I'm still consumed by passions so terrifyingly deep that sometimes I awake in the night feeling as though I'm being burned alive...well, if I still am, then I am--for good or bad. There are no signs of any of that changing soon. And maybe that's lucky, and maybe not. There are blessings in there. And curses.

I'm more fortunate than a lot of folks, I know. I've got a new job in a new city. I've got my little rental. I've got my sidekick Sugar Magnolia to depend on, to take me wherever I need to be and to carry me away from wherever I don't. I've got thousands of miles of open road and beds to sleep in along the way.

And I've still got a Mission. And that just might be worth more than all the settling down in the world.