There are certain forgotten knick-knacks strewn about Shane’s deli that go largely unnoticed by customer and employee alike. There is a miniature Spiderman action figure dangling daringly above the chip rack, a similarly spandexed action figure propped on the catering-order clip, and a frayed, wicker dream-catcher-esque ornament hanging directly above the register. A palpable layer of dust and grime gives each of these objects an archaic air, seeming like holdovers from the old Cock Robin regime, decades earlier. It wasn’t until months into my employment that I first saw these little doodads, and it is fascinating to me that the only people who ever do see them are the children that come in with their parents. Countless times, a kid tugs incessantly at the hem of his mother’s sweater, gesticulating upward and yelling incoherently of Spiderman this, Spiderman that, to which the parental reply is invariable disregard- no sweetie, you left Spiderman in the car, remember? I realize it is likely the disparity in height that enables these young ones to have a clearer perspective of Spiderman and friends, but I prefer to think of it as a metaphor for the ironic wisdom of children, the inheritors-of-the-kingdom type of primacy.
A recent Spiderman-sighting that caught my attention. A pudgy, blonde-haired kid- his cheeks so chubby, I was amazed his toothy grin could even lift them- accompanied his mother on her daily errands, and as she rooted through a cornucopia of change and coupons in her over-sized purse at the register, his eyes ignited at the discovery of the arachnid hero. The excitable little guy began the standard freak-out, but then, to the surprise of both his mother and myself, he collected himself and imparted this impossibly sage insight: “Spiderman would be nothing without a villain, though.” His mother and I shared a befuddled chuckle, and she acknowledged this statement the same as if he had just successfully recited his recently-mastered addition and subtraction tables.
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