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Herman and the Super Hero "If my IQ had been two points lower, I would have been a plant somewhere." ~Lee Trevino While I've always wanted to be one of those people with plants everywhere, I just really don't have the time or the energy or the gumption to make it happen. But Herman loves me. And I guess that's what really counts. I’m typing away at my keyboard, when something makes me glance up and see that Herman, the latest plant-gift from my Mary Poppy-Seeds friend (who’s determined to find the uber-plant that can withstand my hap hazard care) is not looking so good. In fact he’s looking kind of peaked, even a bit gnarly. Herman (“Naming the plant,” she’d counseled, “will strengthen your allegiance. You will want to take care of the plant and the plant will want to grow for you.) is actually Herman IV. Although he doesn’t know it and despite his glum slumping, he is one little lucky fellow; because at this point in his predecessors (all five—there was an original and a junior) short lives, they’d had already succumbed to my casual forgetfulness and general indifference. Of course, if Herman was paying attention he’d actually be … very scared. Because if my shrink is right and “past behavior is a good indicator of future behavior,” he just isn’t going to get the H2O he so desperately needs. Then again, maybe he has been paying attention and knows something bad is going down—possibly him. Maybe he’s visited by the Ghosts of Hermans Past and has been expecting this for some time. And there is the fact that something did cause me to look up at him. Maybe he’s got some kind of tele-floral ESP going on—for all I know. But here’s the good news; this time I am going the extra mile. I’m a Super Hero and I’m here to save the day—Herman’s day. Because it is downright embarrassing that I cannot even keep one lousy Herman alive (okay, a succession of Hermans), when the Earth Goddess is living the lush life, surrounded by a bevy of Hermans and Ethels and Barts, in her "ain't I grand," yuppie loft. I am determined that this Herman will not be taking a dirt nap while on my watch (except maybe his roots). So while I don’t rush into the kitchen to grab the Soil Thermometer (yes, there is such a thing), Fancy Watering Can and Brass Mister—all gifts from my Ms. Green Jeans buddy—I see that action is needed. After all, I’m not a stupid Super Hero. But I’m a lazy Super Hero. And I was in the middle of something when Herman interrupted me with his bionic mind-probe. And I do have this half-full bottled of Evian here. I mean if I just pinch off these top leaves—the mushy yellow ones and crispy, curly brown ones—with my recently manicured French nails (Mary Poppy Seeds does not have nice nails, let me tell you!) he will be looking a heck of a lot better. Then I’ll just give him this half bottle of Evian Water (from the French Alps, I’ll have you know) to wet his little whistle. Then he’ll be okay for a day or two until I get around to him again. Yeah! That’s exactly what I’ll do. Bet Mary Poppy-Seeds’ veridian brood up there in the fancy-schmancy loft doesn’t get Spring Water from the French Alps. Then again, Herman is an only child—the only child of a Super Hero. A Super Hero with nice nails—who drinks Evian.
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