My parents are in Michigan at the funeral of the husband of one of my dad’s favorite cousins. I want to call them every five minutes and check on them. But I don’t, because I know they’re fine and there’s nothing I can do to comfort them anyway.
We were watching the Justice League last night and, in the episodes we’re in, Luthor is a quasi-good guy. He’s got to wear this vest which prevents him from dying of green Kryptonite cancer, I guess because why not rip off Iron Man? Anyway, he admits last night to a somewhat evil robot that he’s having to come to terms with the fact that, in a couple of generations, no one will know him.
Which is true for most ordinary people.
But it’s not true for Lex Luthor, who has managed to remain known. It makes me wonder if that’s not part of the importance of myths. Something that can be remembered for multiple generations.