The Boys

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image from imdb.com

If you are not watching The Boys on Amazon streaming, you should be. This quality adaptation of the comic with the same name is helmed by Eric Kripke, Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogan. Kripke is the mind behind Supernatural, one of my favorite television shows and the writing staff includes veteran writers from the X Files, a show that defined my childhood.

I’ll preface saying the show is for adults, so not something I’d sit and watch with Carter.  The writing is deep and relevant as they address current issues across headlines.  In their world, superheroes are real and managed by a corporation.  This corporation keeps close watch on their superheroes, a group known as The Seven, and works various power plays within the country.

As episodes progress, information is revealed.  Our heroes all have dark sides and face their own demons.  They are vulnerable and real under the costumed exterior. Hughie, played by Jack Quaid, is an outside player that finds himself in the center of the action. Hughie’s girlfriend is accidentally killed by A Train, one of The Seven, and this spurs him into character change.  Quaid has his father’s (Dennis Quaid) magnetism and he uses it to full effect as he enters a relationship with Starlight played by Erin Moriarty, the newest member of The Seven, as she deals with her own identity as a hero.

Hughie’s story is the most intriguing, in my opinion.  After he experiences the tragedy, he’s told by his father to just calm down and be the nice boy he is.  He is offered a payoff by the agency managing the heroes and denies it.  He ends up working with The Boys, a covert group of mercenaries  keeping the heroes in check. He’s pulled, consistently, out of his comfort zone and experiences the rush of rising to a challenge.

In the last episode I finished, Butcher, the head of The Boys, takes Hughie to a victim’s support group.  The group is for individuals who had been damaged physically and emotionally by superheroes.  Butcher finds the people living in a victim mentality and gets angry.  He stands, yelling at them an important question:

Where is your rage?!

Now that scene itself is worth an entire movie and book. Victim mentalities can weigh us down.  We are called to rise up and take back what was ours.  We are called to act.

We have a choice.

Status quot. The same routine, day in and day out.  The same relationships and friendships, the hollow conversations, the meaningless seconds tick by.

Or we can tap into that rage just under the surface.  That anger that knows we’ve been wronged. That voice that everyone has told us to keep quiet for way too long.

As we stand and we rage, we find truth. We find power.  We find identity. Not without sacrifice, or sorrow.  Not without emotion.

We meet ourselves in the fire.  Raging, as Dylan Thomas wrote, against the dying of the light.

 

 

The Gift of Not Having to Say Thank You

I’ve written before about my love for the television show Supernatural. On Friday night, as I watched one of the episodes from the tenth season, an exchange of dialogue hit me.

Sam and Dean, brothers played by Jensen Ackles and Jared Padlecki, are riding in a car going to hunt down the latest monster of the week.  In the midst of a rainy drive they are discussing the events of the past few episodes, moments where Sam had gone to great lengths to save Dean.

Ackles, perfectly in character, mentions that he never said thanks for being saved.

Padelecki looks at him, pauses for a moment, and replies:

“You never have to say that.  Not to me.”

pexels-photo

The moment works on many levels.  From brother to brother, it says that one will always be there.  Family stands high enough to mean there isn’t a need to say thank you.  You’ll always be there, regardless.

It also means that gratitude is understood and that things will be okay.

The idea of not having to say thank you works against everything we’ve put front and center in society. We demand recognition for our efforts and our input. The ones spending their lives in service to others know and understand that this dynamic fails.

This Tuesday, in Reading, a team of volunteers will gather to serve meals to those in need in an event called Cups of Compassion. The individuals I met during this past year of book research will fill some of the spots on this team.  They spend often more than forty hours a week in the world of the poor, ill, beaten down, and distressed.

They go to work every week, go home at night, and go back to do it again in the morning.  They see their clients often fall off the wagon of sobriety and end up incarcerated, in the hospital, or in the graveyard.

These warriors, ones like Sherry Camelleri, Rob Turchi, Frank Grill, Steve Olivo, Sharon Parker, Dan Clouser and Craig Poole and the staff at United Community Services, Berks County Prison, Berks Women in Crisis, Service Access Management, Opportunity House and other shelters in the city all do what they do without the expectation of thanks.

They do it because they care.  They will always be there.  They understand the need to save and their abilities to make it reality. They change lives with selfless love that embodies this time of year.

We can follow their lead and give back, all without expectation or condition.

For the need will never go away. We must rise to fight, step to the line, and give the gift of living to serve without having to hear “thank you.”

~Matt