Robin and me

I've been sorting through old photographs for another project I'm working on, and although I'm not sure when this one was taken, if my beautifully co-ordinated outfit is any indication, it was likely the early seventies. Which would make me about seven. But it wasn't the vibrant combination of red and magenta that stopped me when I reached this photograph. Instead, it was the memory of the chair. That big comfortable chair in the corner of my childhood living room. It reminded me of the countless television shows I enjoyed as a child while curled up there. It reminded me of The Flintstones. And Bewitched. And Gilligan's Island. And George of the Jungle. But most of all it reminded me of Batman. And my days masquerading as Robin.

I would have been too young to have watched the 1960's version of Batman during its original run. But fortunately for me, it was shown almost constantly in re-runs throughout my formative years. And I loved it. I loved the comic book flavour. The over-the-top villains. The action-packed fight sequences with their Bam! Pow! commentary.

I'm surprised that, given my love for the television show, I never chose to dress up as either Batman or Robin for Halloween. The costumes must have been available. But I was always something generic. Like a clown or a cat. Perhaps it was just as well. It would have been almost impossible to fit a warm jacket under one of those costumes and remain a proud superhero. Wherever Gotham City was, it clearly wasn't northerly. So I may have been discouraged for reasons of climate.

But it wasn't only on Halloween night that I embraced the joy of dressing up. No, I would create costumes and assume new personalities in all seasons. And one summer, likely after part of a school vacation marked by daily episodes of Batman, I decided to become one of my favourite superheroes. My memory is fuzzy on why I opted for Robin. Maybe I identified with him as a character closer to my own age. Maybe I simply recognized it as an easier costume to create. Batman's costume would be a challenge to assemble using whatever I could find around the house. But Robin's costume seemed possible. So Robin I would become.

I'm grateful that no photographs were taken. I have to rely on my memory to fill in the details. And that's painful enough. I recall wearing shorts and a t-shirt (likely as colourful as my clothes in the above photograph). And a towel as my cape. And an eye mask made from paper and string. But the greatest difficulty would prove to be the "R" emblem - Robin's signature accessory. It had to be impressive. Instantly noticeable. Ordinary paper simply would not do. Finally, the solution presented itself. In the form of a leftover piece of vinyl flooring. Cutting the letter "R" from the stiff plastic was no easy feat. It was a task worthy of a superhero. But eventually, it was done. And mounted on a painted cardboard disc. And pinned to my t-shirt. And off I ventured into the yard to fight nefarious villains. Where I promptly attracted the attention of my cousin and his friend. And not in a good way.

Sure they snickered. But they immediately recognized me as Robin. Thanks to that impressive vinyl emblem. Instantly noticeable. And despite their mockery, I felt an immense pride. My costume had obviously been a success.