The Death Of Superman - 11 Oct 2004
Christopher Reeve is dead. It was almost thirty years ago that we saw him triumphant, the most realistic Superman ever. We almost believed - or almost disbelieved - that a man could fly. But Christopher Reeve, who was the embodiment of a dream and a good actor as well, is dead. Some would say he died years ago, in May 1995, when his horse threw him and he broke his neck.
Yet he didn't. His efforts to fight his quadriplegia have given hope to many, despite the occasional complaints that he was short-circuiting due scientific process with his generosity. With his money in the pot, research into nerve regeneration was that much faster.
I never knew him. I have to say I probably won't miss him, not having known him. But in my heart, he is a hero. I don't think of myself as ever having the inner fortitude to do what he did - to live an almost-completely paralysed life to the full after a full life without paralysis.
In the environment at which I work, there are heroes too. They often bear the unjust scrutiny of a world which has forgotten to teach its young, but criticises those who try. Over many years, in a few of my colleagues, only a hard, cold, polished gem of the last of the dream remains, buried by the ablative cocooning of carefully nurtured false skepticism. One has to behave, sometimes, as if one were stoic or cynic, rather than mentor or critic. Sometimes, one has to act a bit like a professional mercenary - so that those who can be saved will be saved.
It is difficult to teach the young. Neil Postman once said that the function of education is to act as a counterweight against the entropic degeneration of societal values - all societies try to start with some ideals, and in the end, all will fail, for such is the nature of mortality. But education worth its salt must try its best, even sacrifice its brightest (teachers, not students), just so that the dying of the light may be staved off for another few days or years. This was the kind of fight that 'Superman' fought; and so, we will remember Christopher Reeve (25 Sep 1952 - 11 Oct 2004), who fought against the darkness for almost ten long years.
Yet he didn't. His efforts to fight his quadriplegia have given hope to many, despite the occasional complaints that he was short-circuiting due scientific process with his generosity. With his money in the pot, research into nerve regeneration was that much faster.
I never knew him. I have to say I probably won't miss him, not having known him. But in my heart, he is a hero. I don't think of myself as ever having the inner fortitude to do what he did - to live an almost-completely paralysed life to the full after a full life without paralysis.
In the environment at which I work, there are heroes too. They often bear the unjust scrutiny of a world which has forgotten to teach its young, but criticises those who try. Over many years, in a few of my colleagues, only a hard, cold, polished gem of the last of the dream remains, buried by the ablative cocooning of carefully nurtured false skepticism. One has to behave, sometimes, as if one were stoic or cynic, rather than mentor or critic. Sometimes, one has to act a bit like a professional mercenary - so that those who can be saved will be saved.
It is difficult to teach the young. Neil Postman once said that the function of education is to act as a counterweight against the entropic degeneration of societal values - all societies try to start with some ideals, and in the end, all will fail, for such is the nature of mortality. But education worth its salt must try its best, even sacrifice its brightest (teachers, not students), just so that the dying of the light may be staved off for another few days or years. This was the kind of fight that 'Superman' fought; and so, we will remember Christopher Reeve (25 Sep 1952 - 11 Oct 2004), who fought against the darkness for almost ten long years.
etched with acid at 3:13:00 am
2 Comments:
Hello. I came across this blog while wandering the electronic realm of the mysterious 'Next Blog' button. It's always a treat to flip idly through five or six 'omg u r teh hawtest!!111!' blogs, four or five blogs in languages I can't read, two or three that are just plain boring, and then happen across one that's well-written. And of course it's always fascinating to see how others use these things so differently from the way that I use them (i.e. in a not-boring fashion).
Terribly glad I stumbled onto this!
To Sam: Don't suppose you uould have thought that the author is a Singaporean chemistry teacher huh?
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