Heroes. We all have them. We all want to be one. And in our own way, we are. But we need help in reminding ourselves of that. We all wear our own capes each day. Just like we loved to do as kids. They just look different now. For some, it might be heels and a bold lip. Some it’s glasses. A baseball hat. Long, shiny nails. Gardening gloves. A mechanical pencil in your front pocket. A camera on your shoulder. The list goes on.
When I was younger, I used to change my clothes a thousand times throughout the day...until it felt right. Just ask my mother about all the laundry. Now maybe it was some sort of unrelated OCD tendency I was working through as a kid, but I think I was just trying to find my cape. I listened to a podcast several months ago about how important it is that we find it, our own personal cape, and keep wearing it as adults because just like when we did it as kids, it gives us the power to believe we can do anything. Just like our hero can.
Think of someone you admire. Someone you know or someone who is famous. Alive or passed on. Think about what you admire about them. Think about one object that reminds you of them that you could wear or keep with you to help you embody their spirit.
For me, it’s my jewelry. Most noticeably, my rings. You see, one of the most vivid memories I have of my grandmother, Mutti, is her hands. In fact, many people that knew her talk about her hands. I found myself always being captivated by her elegant yet strong hands covered in sleek, silver jewelry. She didn’t like anything too sparkly. Diamonds were not her best friend. She loved hand-crafted metals with turquoise. One of my biggest heroes is what we call in my family “a Robertson woman”...if you know us, you’ve undoubtedly heard that phrase. It stands for a woman who is strong willed, opinionated, artistic, educated, and caring. Sounds like a hero to me. Sounds like my grandmother. And my mom. And her sisters.
Before my grandmother passed, she was only able to communicate with two words - “like one.” She suffered a stroke that left her with only those two words, for years. Occasionally, she would get out a few others, but she mainly used “like one” to say everything she needed to say.
“How are you doing today?” I would ask.
“Like one!” she would reply with a chuckle implying good I guess?
“Aren’t these flowers beautiful?”
“LIKE OOONE!” she would say with such enthusiasm.
She loved to watch CNN...constantly. Like most of the Robertson women, she was very involved with politics and being an active member of society.
“Like one! Like one! Like one!!” She would say pointing at the screen when she wanted me to turn up the volume.
“So, the election is coming up, who are going to vote for, Mutti?”
“OBAMA.”
I told you she could get a few important words out from time to time.
One day growing up, probably around third grade, I was complaining to my mom about the appearance of my hands for some reason, I forget why. They just weren’t delicate and feminine enough in my small mind. And my mom said without hesitation, “I LOVE your hands! They look so artistic. Like Mutti’s. Like they are meant to create something.”
I could cry just thinking about that moment even now. Really? My hands are like hers?
And just like that, I had found my cape. I found a way to feel more like my hero. To be...like one.
Like One
30” x 40”
Oil and acrylic on canvas