As is most famously known, the man of steel, Superman, has his fortress of solitude way up in the icy North Pole, where he could literally fly off to get away from it all and get re-acquainted with solitude. Do you remember that huge key housed on top of a mountain that he uses to open his fortress?
And other comic heroes are also gifted with one, or two. Wealthy Bruce Wayne aka Batman has his dark and eerie bat cave. Even the very visible and hard to hide The BlackHawks have their island getaway where they can scamper to and lose themselves, and those huge airplanes they fly, when they are not battling those nefarious Nazis. And others have less, like only their alter egos to shield themselves from the prying eyes of the world. Thus, we have Spiderman aka Peter Parker, Cap’n America, the Green Lantern, etc. And oh, those underwater heroes, like Aquaman and Submariner, Prince Namor, they have their watery getaways, too.
Now, in the real world of the rich and famous, we admiringly hear about their island paradise, getaways and hideaways, isolated coves, summer and winter homes, etc. No scarcity of choices there. Think your own and make it happen.
But in the everyday world of the average Tom, Dick, and Harry, where many of us proudly belong, we do make do with what we can find and call our own little fortresses of solitude – our little oasis, cozy nook, or secluded cell, where we can shut out the world and get away from it all.
Just finished building mine, just the other day. And I have a stubbed thumb, aching muscles, and burnt skin from the hot summer sun of Tracy, and some uninspiring pictures, to offer as evidence.
But it is all mine and built entirely with my own puny hands, from cast-off, left-over, and remnant lumber some dating back 15 years ago or as recent as the other day from a Home Depot purchase.
Yes, my own little cozy nook in the coolest spot of the entire house and yards, very much noticed and appreciated during these hot summer days and nights. Tucked in a smallish, odd-shaped left-over but secluded part of the front yard. But allows for visual contact of the front street beyond which is the nicely-maintained park where I jog regularly. But I grant taller hedges could correct any problem of ample secrecy.
Thus, a few steps away from the front door and one, or at least I, is transported within the walls of silence and solitude. Or maybe just a bit of solitude and not enough silence.
But I love it.