I Look Nothing Like Lois Lane, but I Was Saved by Superman! and Today, Like
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Believe it or not, I have my adult- onset hearing loss to thank for this. I look nothing like Lois Lane, but I was saved by Superman! And today, like DC Comics’ legendary Man of Steel, I am also a superhero, the realization of a lifelong dream. But as with any superhero’s story, we must begin with… an origin! 8 Hearing Loss Magazine © Cindy Dyer experience happened: my first view- By Michael Eury to turn him into the Elongated Man, and on the backwards Bizarro World, ing of Superman: The Movie,starring Bizarros said “goodbye” when they Christopher Reeve, whose likable Who He Is and How meant “hello.” portrayal of the Last Son of Krypton He Came to Be I learned to appreciate the “camp” convinced millions that “You’ll be- I was not rocketed to Earth from a humor of TV’s Batman, but never out- lieve a man can fly.” I saw Superman dying planet, nor have I been mutated grew my love of superheroes. Through- multiple times. Reeve as Superman by radiation (at least not to my knowl- out adolescence I trekked each week became my hero. edge). Instead, I was born in Concord, to newsstands and convenience stores, I graduated from ECU in 1980 North Carolina, and grew up during searching for new “funnybooks.” and took a job teaching middle and the 1960s, the tumultuous decade I also wrote and drew my own high school band in eastern North when Americans wrestled with the ugli- comic books, crudely penciled on Carolina. And I hated it. I had ness of real-world crises by ducking for typing paper and hand-lettered in blundered into the wrong career. I cover inside fantasy realms of bubble- ballpoint ink and shared with fellow taught for only a semester, quitting gum music, flashy pop-culture heroes, students. My comics starred my class- and returning home. During the and cornball comedies. mates as superheroes, their superpow- early 1980s I worked as a substitute On January 12, 1966, my life was ers usually based upon a sophomoric teacher, cable-access TV cameraman forever changed when, as an impres- nickname or trait. and talent, record and video stores sionable third grader, I watched the The kid with a long neck (“Wea- first episode of ABC-TV’s Batman. sel”) became Weaselman, with the My parents cackled when Adam West power to stretch his neck great distanc- as Batman shimmied the “Batusi” on es, and a buddy renowned for hurling a dance floor, having been drugged spit wads at classroom clocks became by Molly (Jill St. John), the girlfriend Wonder Wad! These and other home- of the Riddler (Frank Gorshin). In grown superheroes (I couldn’t draw my young mind I thought my parents girls, so there were no superheroines) How My Hearing Loss Made Me a Superhero! were suffering from some type of occasionally banded together as the clerk, graveyard shift convenience dementia—couldn’t they see that Concord Crusaders. store clerk, singing telegrams mes- Batman was in peril? As graduation approached, in my senger, comedy-improv group per- Mom and Dad, Batman’s acting heart I wanted to study creative writ- former, and freelance writer for small weird because he was slipped a mickey ing and art and become a professional press publications and community by Molly. There’s nothing funny about comic book writer/artist, but played newspapers. I was able to leap from this!! What’s wrong with you people??! it safe by opting for Plan B: becoming one dead-end job to another in Batman in 1966 opened a gateway a band director. Music was my other a single bound! to other superheroes and I became a passion, and I played trombone in My one success during this period voracious reader of comic books, learn- every ensemble available. And thus, of instability was finding the love ing the lore of Superman, the Justice in fall 1975, I became a music educa- of my life, Rose. We met in 1984 as League of America, Spider-Man, and tion major at East Carolina University co-workers at Monkey Business Sing- the Fantastic Four. Ask me to calculate (ECU). Throughout college, however, ing Telegrams in Charlotte, North a percentage or name the capital of I continued to read comic books. Carolina, and had an instant chemis- Kansas and I’d respond with a blank try. After a year and half of dodging stare, but I could tell you without hesi- Look! Up in the Sky! our feelings for each other, in January tation that Gingold was the name of I was at ECU in December 1978 1986 we could no longer ignore what the serum consumed by Ralph Dibny when another life-altering superhero continued on page 10 September/October 2011 9 © Cindy Dyer Cindy © Superhero! continued from page 9 blossomed into a vocation. I took a DC’s president had a high-pitched, job as an assistant editor at a small soft voice, and I rarely understood was intended to be and have since publisher called Comico the Comic what she said. I began to mishear lived happily ever after. Company, in Norristown, Pennsylva- in editorial meetings, and some col- Throughout my mid-twenties, nia. It was here that I was first both- leagues questioned my competence Superman begat movie sequels, and ered by hearing problems, especially in or sobriety. A few editors still stinging my obsession deepened. I even nur- restaurants, where I learned to position from my promotion took advantage tured fantasies about being Superman! myself with my “good ear” facing the of my unsteadiness and bullied me. I dreamt of flying to the rescue of those table’s conversation. My self-confidence, along with my in need. Inspired by the examples of In the summer of 1989 I landed hearing, was fading away. superheroes, I had an innate desire my dream job: I became an editor at Of course, a true hero would rise to do good for others but lacked the DC Comics, the publisher of Super- above such adversity. I was not heroic maturity to cultivate a pragmatic way man and Batman. DC Comics, head- in any way. I allowed my progressive of realizing that desire. quartered in midtown Manhattan, hearing loss to crush my spirit, and was a subsidiary of Warner Bros. the bullies and professional stress to My Own Private Kryptonite Living in the Big Apple and working make me miserable. Three years after A hero is generally defined by his for an entertainment empire was an taking my dream job, I resigned from archenemy. As I aged into my thirties, exhilarating experience for this small- it and slunk back home to be a free- a supervillain conspired to topple me. town southern boy! lance writer of comic books, a job My foe did not operate from a subter- Within eight months I had been I could do without having to rely ranean lair, nor did he hire underlings promoted to editorial management, upon my failing hearing. with henchmen names embroidered working as the assistant to Vice Presi- on their sweatshirts. dent/Editorial Director Dick Gior- Trapped in the Phantom Zone Instead, this insidious master- dano, and seemed to be on the fast Rose and I spent the summer of mind quietly employed covert tactics. track. A few freelancers called me the 1992 in New Bern, North Carolina, He began his assault as an embezzler, “heir apparent” of the editorial depart- in a house my grandfather had built secreting away sounds—a consonant ment, the “guy to get to know.” (An decades earlier. The house was in here, a high pitch there. He sometimes aside about my boss: Dick, coinciden- disrepair, souring my disposition, brandished weapons of mass destruc- tally, was profoundly hard of hearing. and culture shock also waylaid me. tion—otosclerosis, tinnitus, and noise We often held private conversations I was extremely unhappy and anxious exposure. His attacks, however, were in the elevator so I could speak loudly to retreat. gradual and unannounced, allowing enough for him to understand me That fall we moved—again!—to me to make minor lifestyle adjustments without being overheard by editors Philadelphia, to familiar territory and along the way. I did not realize—un- loitering outside his office door.) friends. I was depressed, however, til it was too late!—the havoc he had I began having difficulties pro- although I usually put on a happy wreaked. The name of this scoundrel? cessing information. When people face to friends, keeping most folks at Hearing loss. would speak to me while I was on arm’s length. My depression adversely In January 1988 my long-time the phone, their comments, heard affected my work, and writing assign- passion for comic books finally through my “bad ear,” were muffled. ments withered away. I accepted an © Cindy Dyer Cindy © 10 Hearing Loss Magazine editorial position at Dark Horse Com- thinking at the time. At my lowest, ics in the Portland, Oregon, suburb I took my Bible—the same Bible I of Milwaukie, and, in August 1993, had studied for years, one that was Rose and I moved from the East to saturated with yellow-highlighted the West Coast. passages—and chucked it into the Once again in an office environ- trash can. I reasoned that God had ment, the pattern from my DC forsaken me by allowing my hearing Comics job replayed itself. I was to pull a vanishing act, so this was quickly promoted into management, my way of returning the “favor.” becoming a “group editor” (overseeing an entire line of titles and staff), but Summoned into Action fell prey to communication break- In 1999, I took a part-time job as downs.