We are shaped by various scattered circumstances and machinations. The neighborhood where you grew up is formative, or the lack of one if you were frequently on the move. Were you an only child or bundled with a pack of siblings? Did your parents stay together or was divorce responsible for rejiggering the dynamics of your upbringing? Public school or private institution? Was it a single or dual gender student body? Did boys or girls turn on your libido? Or was gender not even assigned to causes of attraction? Did you get by paycheck to paycheck or have enough extra to be spoiled rotten? Maybe you were a latch key kid residing in a tenement building in a metropolitan area. Perhaps you were the proverbial farmer’s daughter being felt up on a hayloft, fertile ground to be plowed when the time felt right. Was loss of virginity deferred or lost sooner than your future self would have advised? Did you fit in, regardless of whether with the cool kids, the studious ones, or some other grouping of adolescents? How much of your identity was the result of choices made rather than matters beyond control?
My name was Tyler Bennet until it wasn’t. I thought I had a pretty good idea who I was as Tyler. A lifetime had gone into the creation. For better on occasion and worse on others, I had a solid handle on my potential as well as a firm grasp on the frailties that could prevent me from reaching it. Then I stripped that skin away, achieving a sense of liberation that people would either envy or pity. How wonderful to be able to reinvent yourself. How awful that this would be necessary.
Unlike Reginald Harris, Tyler Bennet had a childhood. As a kid I wanted to be a superhero. This of course is an unrealistic aspiration, but kids are free from the responsibility of practicality. I was a voracious reader during my pre and early teens, but only of Marvel and DC comic books. In one story after another, forces of good triumphed over evil. Evil would inevitably return to once again be dealt with by larger-than-life figures who were devoid of fear. Such bravery was the result of magnificent powers bestowed upon them. They could not be intimidated. Cases of the jitters were few and far between.
I was level-headed enough to realize I possessed no such powers and would never attain them. I lacked the strength of twenty or more men combined. The gift of flight eluded me, as did the ability to see through walls, or climb up them, or to eject ice or fire or usefully adhesive web from my fingertips. I was unable to control elements of nature or effortlessly bend minds to my will. Yet being born without supernatural talents did not mean I could not serve as protector. After giving serious consideration to military service, I went with a different uniform. A cop’s life was the one destined for me.
Months after deciding to be done with police work, I elected to shed the remainder of my identity like a serpent ready for its next set of scales. Tyler Bennet was seen as a remorseless killer; never mind how often I explained the awful necessity of my actions and how profusely I expressed regret. Whenever my name was seen or heard, it was associated with bigotry and fatal abuse of power. As a kid I dreamed of possessing powers to be used for good. What I became was a man branded with the mark of villainy. So, I ran and hid. Somewhere out there a new fate awaited me. I could be anyone I chose to be, anyone other than Tyler Bennet.
It must be gratifying for a snake to shed its skin and emerge with a different garment free of wear and tear. Starting over from scratch was liberating. Chains from past misfortunes ceased to bind and restrict. Hitting the reset button returned my potential to status of limitless. I was born into a new world, but with wisdom attained from the previous one still intact. Reincarnated within a single lifetime. Perhaps better choices would be made the second go around. What does one do with a fresh start? Whatever they wish.
Then again, even with a new name and different job in a new city with an altered appearance, I was still me. I had changed paths, but was I ultimately headed towards the same destination as before? Your guess is as good as mine, maybe better.
Reginald Harris had one thing in common with Tyler Bennet along with a shared body and soul. The desire, make that the need to protect. Would such a benevolent impulse be bestowed upon a bad person? What sense would that make? Never mind that the ways of God are mysterious by definition. I did not have to wear a badge or carry a weapon. I was happy to blend into a crowd, content with being ignored. I had as little interest in wearing an officer’s uniform as I did in putting on a mask and cape. Yet I knew if someone ended up in harm’s way in my presence, instincts of what I suppose one could call heroism would kick in. I couldn’t change that aspect of my personality with changes to name, location, facial hair, zip code, social security number. Nor did I want to. I still took a small amount of pride in being unalterably me.
My name was Tyler Bennet until it wasn’t. I thought I had a pretty good idea who I was as Tyler. A lifetime had gone into the creation. For better on occasion and worse on others, I had a solid handle on my potential as well as a firm grasp on the frailties that could prevent me from reaching it. Then I stripped that skin away, achieving a sense of liberation that people would either envy or pity. How wonderful to be able to reinvent yourself. How awful that this would be necessary.
Unlike Reginald Harris, Tyler Bennet had a childhood. As a kid I wanted to be a superhero. This of course is an unrealistic aspiration, but kids are free from the responsibility of practicality. I was a voracious reader during my pre and early teens, but only of Marvel and DC comic books. In one story after another, forces of good triumphed over evil. Evil would inevitably return to once again be dealt with by larger-than-life figures who were devoid of fear. Such bravery was the result of magnificent powers bestowed upon them. They could not be intimidated. Cases of the jitters were few and far between.
I was level-headed enough to realize I possessed no such powers and would never attain them. I lacked the strength of twenty or more men combined. The gift of flight eluded me, as did the ability to see through walls, or climb up them, or to eject ice or fire or usefully adhesive web from my fingertips. I was unable to control elements of nature or effortlessly bend minds to my will. Yet being born without supernatural talents did not mean I could not serve as protector. After giving serious consideration to military service, I went with a different uniform. A cop’s life was the one destined for me.
Months after deciding to be done with police work, I elected to shed the remainder of my identity like a serpent ready for its next set of scales. Tyler Bennet was seen as a remorseless killer; never mind how often I explained the awful necessity of my actions and how profusely I expressed regret. Whenever my name was seen or heard, it was associated with bigotry and fatal abuse of power. As a kid I dreamed of possessing powers to be used for good. What I became was a man branded with the mark of villainy. So, I ran and hid. Somewhere out there a new fate awaited me. I could be anyone I chose to be, anyone other than Tyler Bennet.
It must be gratifying for a snake to shed its skin and emerge with a different garment free of wear and tear. Starting over from scratch was liberating. Chains from past misfortunes ceased to bind and restrict. Hitting the reset button returned my potential to status of limitless. I was born into a new world, but with wisdom attained from the previous one still intact. Reincarnated within a single lifetime. Perhaps better choices would be made the second go around. What does one do with a fresh start? Whatever they wish.
Then again, even with a new name and different job in a new city with an altered appearance, I was still me. I had changed paths, but was I ultimately headed towards the same destination as before? Your guess is as good as mine, maybe better.
Reginald Harris had one thing in common with Tyler Bennet along with a shared body and soul. The desire, make that the need to protect. Would such a benevolent impulse be bestowed upon a bad person? What sense would that make? Never mind that the ways of God are mysterious by definition. I did not have to wear a badge or carry a weapon. I was happy to blend into a crowd, content with being ignored. I had as little interest in wearing an officer’s uniform as I did in putting on a mask and cape. Yet I knew if someone ended up in harm’s way in my presence, instincts of what I suppose one could call heroism would kick in. I couldn’t change that aspect of my personality with changes to name, location, facial hair, zip code, social security number. Nor did I want to. I still took a small amount of pride in being unalterably me.