One day I was visiting “Grammie’s” house with the kids for a family dinner. I decided to bring a video tape of a cartoon to watch with the kids there.

At one critical point in the story, there is this teenaged boy that is getting chased down by an unmanned tractors with harvesting blades on the front. The tractor seems to have a mind of it’s own. The kid stumbles and the blades start to hit him on the back. He screams in pain.

At this point, you’re probably all wondering why I was playing an animated Maximum Overdrive for the little ones. But as it turns out, the blades only cut through the boy’s shirt. There is not an ounce of blood whatsoever; in fact, there isn’t even a scratch on his back.

One of the mothers see this and starts to laugh. “That’s soooo ridiculous! That’s pathetic!”

I turned and grinned at her. “That boy… his name is Clark Kent.”

At that moment, the boy turns around and rips the tractor apart with his bare hands.

“Oh, never mind,” she said, and she wandered away satisfied with my explanation.

I am convinced this story says something profound about both human nature and about life; if only I could figure out what it was. Your interpretations are welcome.