Superman

Apparently T. wasn’t the only one among my friends–or the female general public, for that matter–who thought Christopher Reeve was the bomb. Whether or not he did, in fact, have to fold that thing three times, apparently Superman’s . . . er . . . package is a much hotter topic than I’ve ever suspected. The Google search term “Superman’s bulge” returns more than 53,000 results, the most comprehensive of which appears to be the brilliant A Brief History of Superman’s Bulge by Ryan Britt.

Be that as it may, with the greatest respect for Christopher Reeve’s acting ability, his post-accident activism and his absolute, total hotness (“even though he is in his 30’s”), I felt compelled to share a second note today. And I’m so glad I did, because, again, the Universe has spoken to me in its own subtle way: during my brief research for this post, I read a November 2003 interview with Reeve in The New Yorker which mentions that his 1995 riding accident actually occurred at a competition in Culpeper, VA–the same “Culpepper” to which M & M refers below.

Heather,

Since I have little time to talk to you any more I thought I would write you a note.

You probably think I’m crazy liking a freshman and all but I really don’t care. I think he is nice and mature, more mature than A.K. It is to bad you haven’t met G. and one of these days I’ll have to take you to Youth Group with me (when I think he likes me or I don’t care, because I don’t want to take the chance of your beauty getting in the way.)

Who did you vote for homecoming princes or queen (or whatever)? I voted for S.S. and T.I.

Are you doing anything Sunday afternoon?, because I think you, me C., C., and K. should get together since I hardly see them any more. Sat. is out because I will be at Culpepper with the band.

I’m glad you are enjoying tenis. I wish I could say the same for marching and flags (I liked it better last year). You and I are kept so busy after school and with homework we don’t get to talked like we used to. I don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad when fall things are over.

Q-107 is playing my song Games without frontiers war without tears.

Remember after lunch I told you Superman was cute (even though he is in his 30’s)? When I saw him I said is that for real. You were right that thing must have been folded 3 times.

La
(L)ove y(a)
M & M

H,
How do, you know I don’t have a think to talk about except SUPERMAN the movie, you will believe a man can fly. I saw it Thursday night, isn’t that great? Now I don’t have a thing to talk about except cute Clark Kent, boy was he cute, I wouldn’t mind being Lois Lane, Clark was cuter than Superman, you know they are one and the same. Now I don’t have anything at all to talk about, you know, how do you find enough things to write your letters that long. Did you sell any subscriptions? I didn’t.
This is a very boring letter because I don’t have a thing to write! Guess what! It’s snowing! I’m sooooooooooo informative. By the way, Nooooooooooooo. You are making me sick with this Lover boy stuff. Hee Hee. You know I like T. I hope mole man and everyone worked out.
Well bye now,
T (felix)
((spy #1))

Who is cuter? You be the judge. Visit http://www.toptenz.net/top-10-alter-egos.php.

One of the many delightful things about transcribing these notes has been researching all the references to 70s and 80s pop culture in an effort to date them. Because Superman was released on 12/15/78, I know this note was written in 8th grade. One of my closest friends, bless her, dated almost all her notes–but the vast majority of them are undated, requiring the highest caliber investigatory skills to figure out when they were written. Though I haven’t been able to date all of them, most of the time–using references to teachers or classes, boyfriends, songs or albums–I’ve at least been able to deduce what grade we were in.

Then there’s the juxtaposition of my life now, in comparison. When I first started this project last December, I’d seclude myself in my office for six hours at a time, enjoying hot flashes and drinking copious amounts of wine, listening to BestNetRadio 70s & 80s Hits, bawling my head off as I thought about how long ago all this was and how old I am now. Poor Husband.

Okay, I’m not really all that old now. But it sure feels like it sometimes. Seven months and several hundred notes later, I’m much more in control. At least the hot flashes have stopped for the time being.