Friday, Feburary 4th.
A date etched in my memory not for any grand event, but for a simple family outing my father decided we needed. Guess where he took us, my mom and me? You'll never guess. He brought us to the national war museum, the one dedicated entirely to our one and only Captain America. The irony wasn't lost on me, especially after my incessant questions about him back at the hospital.
As we moved through the hushed halls, my gaze drifted across the extensive displays: vintage military jeeps, formidable tanks, and rows of old-school motorcycles, all gleaming under the museum lights. Then came the multimedia exhibits – archival recordings of Captain America.
He was everywhere: in school commercials, earnestly promoting military enlistment, even awkwardly dancing with a line of cheerleaders. The more I watched, the more a strange sensation settled in my stomach, a knot of unease twisting tighter with each clip.
It felt... wrong. This was a man who, by all accounts, single-handedly charged into heavily armed enemy bases, or spearheaded daring raids with a mere dozen or so men, delivering devastating blows to the enemy.
And here he was, reduced to a sanitized, marketable poster boy. It was almost absurd. If not for the powerful, unwavering character that shone through in the genuine stories and personal accounts scattered throughout the museum, the man himself might have been utterly eclipsed by the propaganda machine.
It made me wonder if we, as a nation, would have been in far greater trouble if his moral charachter had been anything less than the legend he was.
A chilling wave of pity washed over me for the people who once lived under such a regime, manipulated by grand narratives and manufactured heroes. Then, a cold jolt of realization hit me: I was one of them. I am one of them, right now.
Oh, the profound, sickening irony. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, a visceral response to the unsettling truth. I made a mental note, a desperate, almost comical vow: I should procure citizenships of a few other countries in the future.
And for the grand finale of our day, there we were, posing stiffly for photographs in front of the life-sized mannequins, clad in the iconic uniforms of Captain America and his legendary Howling Commandos.
Speaking of the Howling Commandos, their names, as immortalized in the exhibits, were:
Bucky Barnes
James Howlett
Timothy Aloysius Cadwallader (A.K.A. "Dum Dum" Dugan)
James Montgomery Falsworth
Jim Morita
Gabe Jones
Jacques Dernier
Happy Sam Sawyer
Pinky Pinkerton
Junior Juniper
One detail, though, truly caught my attention. Despite poring over every article and plaque, there was not a single mention of the Super Soldier Serum. All the official accounts simply stated that Captain America was "super strong" and had "received special training."
Heh. Government. I believe you. Just as I believe our president is, in fact, a gorilla who, after a good shave, manages to look completely human.