The Average White Guy

If you knew me as a kid, it was no secret that when I was growing up, I was often the littlest guy in the class, on the team, at the bus stop, on the street, at the pool, at the park, etc… If there were weight classes for school yard fights (of which I had my share) I would definitely have been a junior featherweight. Needless to say, I was picked on a bunch because of my short stature. Did it affect me? Did the torture have lasting effects? The voices in my head say no, but my therapists all say yes. (Please tell me you know I’m joking about that last one.)

Being small had it’s shortcomings (no pun intended). I couldn’t hang with the big guys on the hoop court. I couldn’t reach the popsicles in the freezer. I couldn’t do that thing where you hold the object of your little brother’s affection over his head while he jumps for it and cries, “C’mon Jiiiiim… Let me haaaaave it….. PLEEEAAASEE!!!”. (No offense, Bill) I was robbed of those sorts of childhood gems, but being a shorty also had some nice advantages.

Because I was such a little dude, I could often squeeze through the gaps (open windows, under beds, between jagger bushes, behind stuff) most other people couldn’t. Dodgeball? I was an impossible target! I was also extremely fast due to my extremely light weight. This quality I’ve kept with me, although I’ve lost a step being as out of shape as I am. When I fell off of stuff or out of stuff like trees, I was typically fine. Today though, if I step of the curb awkwardly, I’ll feel it for a week. WTF happened? I digress…

When I was growing up, I needed a role model. Sure, Maya the Bee could have filled the void, but c’mon folks, I’m not a little girl. The Smurfs? Yes, of course - those little dude took it to Gargamel at every available opportunity, but there was a whole community of them; I was typically on my own. How about the Fraggles? Eh… I always viewed the Fraggles as the special ed muppets. While I’m average at most things, my brain isn’t… I’m actually quite intelligent, so the Fraggles just don’t make sense. So who’s left? Who could possibly give a little guy like me hope? Who could give me the courage to be bigger than my little body? I’ll tell ya who… The Teeny Little Super Guy, that’s who. Please see the following video clip and I’ll pick you up on the other side.

The Teeny Little Super Guy (if you don’t already remember) was a sketch on Sesame St. which I watched like a fanatic when I was a kid. For a sold hour and a half Sesame St. and Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood kept me planted on my caboose in front of the TV. Teeny Little Super Guy was one of my favorites. He was no bigger than my thumb but snap my fingers and here he comes! If he could do stuff without his size being a factor, so could I. He gave me the strength to be a teeny little super guy too.

So to the Teeny Little Super Guy, this post is for you. Thank you for getting me through those really tough years. Thank you for giving me the strength to embrace and accelerate with my size, rather than be held down by it.