My Hero.
The other night my husband and I went to a birthday party. With cocktail in hand, I wondered from group to group visiting with people from all walks of life.

Stopping at one group of ladies, the conversation turned to our childhood heroes. The woman we admired and wanted to grow up to be.

One after another brilliant woman were mentioned, Margret Thatcher, Eleanor Roosevelt, Helen Keller, Maya Angelou, Rosa Parks, Sandra Day O Connor.

When attention turned to me, I have to admit I almost submitted to the peer pressure; I took another drink of my whiskey. "When I was little, the women I wanted to grow up to be were, Samantha from bewitched, Jane from the Tarzan movies, Ginger and Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island, and Elle May from the Beverly Hillbillies."

One very kind woman tried to save my reputation, "I think we all have had our fantasies of swinging through the jungle against the chest of a He man."

Nodding I smiled, "Yes I am very lucky."

Lucky? Another woman asked.

"Yes, I live in an off grid cabin in the woods like Elle May, secluded from civilization like Ginger and Mary Ann, and I may not be able to turn someone into a toad but I do practice a bit of my own magic."

Before I could finish my husband swopped in and lifted me over his shoulder, turning me around so I could say my good-byes. Hanging upside down, I lifted my head and smiled, "Best of all I grew up and found my He Man."
With one last wave to my new friends, he carried me out the door.

On the way home, I got to thinking about my heroes. Curious, I asked my love, "When you were little, who were your heroes, who did you want to grow up to be?

A sweet smile crossed his lips, and without hesitation he answered. "Superman."