Rediscovering A Superhero

He stands 40 meters tall, has a fin for a nose that extends to the back of his head. He has eyes shaped and slanted like those of a praying mantis, and has red stripes and a silver skin for a body. He fights giant monsters and aliens as tall as Godzilla and King Kong, and he has this blue color timer that blinks red when this creature becomes weak.

- Homage, October 22, 2005

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It was recess and pupils were playing on the grounds near the flagpole. Some were running around while being chased by a bully or a furious kid after being teased the whole day. Others were seated on the benches that formed a ring around the playground. They were eating cheese and peanut butter sandwiches specially made for them by their mothers.

Meanwhile, I was talking to a classmate - the class jester of my section a few steps away from the flagpole. A paper plane swooshed past next to my head and its owner was nowhere to be found. The pointed tip of the paper plane could have hit my eye, and the class jester found the near-miss quite hilarious. He then handed me a tex card with an image of a monster, which resembles a giant white Popsicle printed on its front - perhaps a reward for making him laugh like a hyena that recess. At the back of the tex card was a faded black and white image of a superhero that was popular in those days. He was lifting the Popsicle monster as if he would throw it back on the ground.

Strange how that little token, which I never paid attention at first would draw the course of my elementary life in the following months. I was hooked at the show on TV, which was aired every Sunday Afternoon on Channel 2. I even noted what ad placements supported the show - I think it was Twinkido Toothpaste. There were times I would secretly cry when some day-long family affair would force me to miss one episode. At one time, I almost paid P2,500 pesos to a neighborhood kid after he showed me a book about my superhero. My parents were totally against the idea, for they found the price too impractical for a collectible that I would soon outgrow once I become a teenager.

They were right.

Because when I entered puberty - and was collecting tall and slim Johnny Walker boxes that serve as skyscrapers to be trampled down by some rubber dinosaurs I bought from a toy store for my live-action role-playing game, I woke up one morning outgrowing everything. By that time, I had already accumulated a shoe-box full of collectible tex, two miniature action figure I bought from the Palengke, and a vivid imagination of a 40-meter human-like creature standing next to a real skyscraper when I pass by Ayala Avenue.

Such were the days of my childhood.

It took me more than a decade later before achieving full circle - when unexpectedly, I saw and bought a cheap DVD compilation of my favorite superhero in Quiapo this afternoon.

The moment I arrived home, I immediately opened my computer and slid the disk on the player. A few minutes later the disk played, flashing on the screen the opening credits and the familiar theme song, which I used to sing back when my breathtaking obsession for this superhero had occasionally snatched my sanity.

The episodes were dubbed in English. The familiar giant monsters were still growling, moaning and scaring unsuspecting Japanese folks of the 50s, making them believe that the end was near. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and the superhero of my childhood made a grand appearance. His right arm pointing skyward and his knuckles ready to punish the monster-of-the-episode into submission.

In less than 15 minutes after scanning several episodes, I stopped the player, closed the video screen and logged on to the internet.

Now that I have everything of Ultraman, I realized that its childhood magic and sway over me has finally and permanently disappeared.