E2 EZ EE THE WASHINGTON POST.SUNDAY, MAY 15 , 2022therapy they wrought). Doing so
will help you see the value, or
absence of it, or utter futility, in
taking this up once and for all
with your mom. That can be the
last piece you process before
releasing it (and them) all.Dear Carolyn: Should I stay
with someone who doesn’t get
my sense of humor? We mesh on
many things (except politics and
religion), but not understanding
how I look at things bothers me
the most.
— LightenupLightenup: So you like
everything about your
cheeseburger except the bun, the
meat and the cheese.
If you want to build your life
around condiments, then it’s not
for me to criticize and I certainly
won’t (can’t) stop you.
But I will spend some time
after I finish this trying to make
a mental list of the possible
“many things.”Write to Carolyn Hax at
[email protected]. Get her
column delivered to your inbox each
morning at wapo.st/gethax. Join the discussion live at noon
Fridays at washingtonpost.com/live-
chats.Mom: “They were such good
people!”
You: “You say that knowing
they weren’t good to me. Please
think about how that feels.”
If she then accuses you of
being resentful:
“Yes, and hurt. They, you and
others were okay with their
doting on my brothers and
ignoring me. But I am working
hard to find peace and make
something good come of it.”
It’s bad enough you got a
crapsicle when your brothers got
ice cream; there’s no reason
whatsoever for you to add to that
injury the insult of pretending
any of it was okay just to keep
your mother’s lies of self-
preservation intact.
And this brings us to the lead
I’ve buried: The real problem
you have now isn’t your
grandparents anymore, or their
estate money, or what your mom
will say if you use it. The
problem is your mother herself:
how she sold you out and still
won’t face what she did.
Accepting the check won’t fix
that, nor will refusing it. That’s
something for you to sort out for
its own sake, inside — with
therapeutic help, I suggest, if you
are so inclined and have the
means (another fine use for the
cash; let them pay for thehistory, then correct the
inaccuracies — without apology:
Mom: “See! They enabled you
to travel.”
You: “ You enabled me to
travel, Mom — which I do
appreciate.”failed to show you. Whether it’s
to retire some education debt or
put an addition on your house,
it’ll be the investment in your
worth that you’ve long deserved.
And if that inspires your
mother to spew revisionistever really understood the idea
of sticking it to someone else by
punishing yourself.
Especially when there are so
many ways you can use your
grandparents’ money to stick it
to them for the greater good.
Just for example, you can
deposit the money and distribute
it meaningfully — or spitefully,
it’s up to you — to organizations
working to reverse the damage of
sexism like your grandparents’.
Promoting female candidates for
public office, safeguarding equal
opportunity for women,
advancing girls’ education
globally, funding menopause
research, or, oh, supporting
reproductive autonomy? Have at
it; there is no shortage of
outrages for you to help remedy
with this windfall of
granddollars. Which were the
very definition of hard-earned.
Or you can make sure your
family’s next generation, if there
is one, feels loved the way you
never did, by using the money to
travel to see their games or
performances, or fund their
educations, or pitch in to their
fundraisers — equitably. If there
isn’t a next generation (yet), then
you can save the money for such
a future.
Or you can use it now to show
yourself the love they utterlyDear Carolyn: I
do not remember
my grandparents
fondly. While they
doted on my
brothers, I — the
only girl — was
ignored. They
attended my
brothers’ sporting
events, but not mine. They
skipped my high school, college
and master’s degree graduations.
This hurt me very much.
One grandparent died years ago
and the second just passed away.
Their estate was split between their
children and they left it up to each
child to decide whether to share
money with the grandchildren.
My mom wrote me a large check
that I have not cashed. It feels like a
payoff. Mom often brings up what
good people they were as if to
convince me of their goodness. If I
take this money, then I worry she
will use it to say, “See! They enabled
you to... [ donate, travel, save,
etc.].” If I don’t take it, then I worry
she will say I'm being resentful.
The truth is, I don’t care about
the money. I wanted to feel loved
and I never did. I wanted her to
stand up for me and she didn’t.
What do I do with this check?
— Cash in HandCash in Hand: I can’t say I’veInheritance from bad grandparents feels like a ‘payo≠’Carolyn
HaxNICK GALIFIANAKIS/ILLUSTRATION FOR THE WASHINGTON POST
BY DAVID BETANCOURTI
was supposed to be a sports
reporter. But then “Spider-
Man” happened.
During college, I thought I
was the impending biracial ver-
sion of sports columnists Tony
Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon
— the Avengers of my college
years — and you couldn’t tell me
otherwise.
But then I walked into my first
theatrical viewing of Sam R aimi’s
2002 love letter to Spider-Man
creators Steve Ditko and Stan
Lee. I walked out not only con-
vinced that I’d seen one of the
greatest contributions to comic
book culture, but also with a
determination to somehow one
day be a part of it. It w as a culture
that, 20 years ago this week, was
on the cusp of taking over Holly-
wood in a way that no one
expected.
Hey kid, you d id i t. Look at y ou
writing about Spider-Man in The
Washington Post. Kevin Feige
couldn’t have crafted a better
plotline.
For Hollywood, “Spider-Man”
was the first movie to have a
$10 0 million opening weekend,
the best superhero movie since
198 9’s “Batman” and the founda-
tion of what would eventually
become the Marvel Cinematic
Universe.
But for me, “Spider-Man”
marked a monumental shift in
my approach to life. It’s when I
realized my love of comics would
never leave me.
I would see the movie four
more times in theaters. But my
first time w as on May 2, 200 2, the
Thursday before I became the
first Betancourt in my family to
graduate from college. And not
for lack of trying. My g randfather
Eligio helped integrate Mount
Vernon, Va., when he arrived
from Mayagüez, Puerto Rico, at
the age of 8. An overwhelmingly
white D.C. suburb in the 1940 s
and ’50s? Not exactly a place
where I’d be dying to make a
Quantum Leap. But my grandfa-
ther became one of the best
football players the state of
V irginia had ever seen and
earned a scholarship to North
Carolina State. Turns out North-
ern Virginia was as far south as
the Betancourts could tolerate
back then. And he might have
skipped a Saturday class or two.
He dropped out and headed to
New York to find a Puerto Rican
bride — and met Anna MariaThey got the guy who did the
music for “Batman,” I said to
myself. I sat back, smiled and
prepared for perfection.
And that’s exactly what I got.
Raimi’s true appreciation for the
Spider-Man comics of his youth
glowed on-screen. He framed
Maguire’s Peter Parker as a kid
who felt as if he could never
catch a break, even with super-
powers. Elfman’s score had the
audacity to be just as good as his
music from “Batman.” I watched
a 20 -something Tobey Maguire
join Michael Keaton and Christo-
pher Reeve in the pantheon of
the most important superheroes
in Hollywood. Willem Dafoe’s
villainous Green Goblin was so
masterful it totally didn’t matter
that they gave him the wrong suit
(they should have gone with the
classic comics look they initially
considered) and it is no surprise
he was the MVP of “Spider-Man:
No Way Home” two decades later.
But to date, no comic book
character has ever c ome t o life on
screen as beautifully as J.K. Sim-
mons’s J. Jonah Jameson, editor
in chief of the Daily Bugle. If I
could turn him screaming
“PARKER” into a ringtone, I
would. It’s symphonic.
After the movie ended on
S pider-Man swinging around
New York, my braces could not
contain the wattage of my smile.
This wasn’t just a superhero
movie. This was change. Even as
a college student who had buried
one too many ledes, with no
professional journalism clout to
my n ame, I knew that Hollywood
wouldn’t b e able to ignore comics
anymore. That we would see
more comic book movies that
weren’t afraid of their source
material. And not just Spider-
Man sequels. This was a move-
ment. All those comics books I
had been reading my entire life?
They mattered now.
Oh, but what about gradua-
tion? Yes, two days later I re-
ceived my degree in media stud-
ies from Radford University. As I
crossed the stage, I saw my f ather
and grandfather w aiting f or me. I
had become the first Betancourt
to make it across the f inish line —
and when I walked down the
steps they gave me a three-gener-
ation bear hug.
“It’s about time,” my father
then said. “How does it feel?”
My response was the first
thing that came to mind.
“I saw the Spider-Man movie,”
I said. “It was incredible.”20 years later, ‘Spider-Man’is still my superhero origin storyRobles, the best grandmother
ever. Then he moved back to the
D.C. suburbs to start a new
Betancourt universe.
In 1982, I was already 2 years
old when my f ather, Eligio David,
made it to his freshman year at
the University of Maryland
(where I now teach a class on
superhero culture). He was a
high school football star, too. A
quarterback. But he didn’t inher-
it my grandfather’s hulking
2 00-plus-pound frame. And he
blew out his knee. So no college
football for him. When my f irst o f
three younger sisters was born in
1986, my father’s upperclassman
years faded into real-life parent-
hood. He never graduated de-
spite being so close.
As I grew up, we bonded over
our love of superheroes. At thetop of our list of favorites? Spi-
der-Man. The first superhero I
ever drew on a sheet of paper?
Spider-Man. The first comic book
I ever remember reading off the
rack of the 7-Eleven around the
corner from my grandparents’
house? You guessed it. Spider-
Man. Cartoons. Cereal. He’s a big
deal in our family. That was
before Marvel created one who
was half Puerto Rican half Afri-
can A merican j ust like me — and,
in full disclosure, I even got to
write a Miles Morales/Spider-
Man comic in 2021.
Which brings us to that fateful
Thursday night in 2002. After
four years at Radford University,
I was all done. Set to graduate
that Saturday, May 4, my father’s
38 th birthday (and no, he doesn’t
care he was born on Star Warsday, he’s a Star Trek guy — I
tried). I was coasting into
c ongratulatory Mahogany Hall-
mark cards stuffed with money,
from my maternal Howard Uni-
versity-alum aunties. But later
that afternoon I received an AOL
instant message on my computer
from Wade Todd, who was my
roommate at Radford during my
freshman year back in 1998.
Wade had a friend who
worked at t he local Radford t hea-
ter, where I had seen “X-Men”
two years prior. Part of that
friend’s j ob was t esting out movie
reels before they were used for
showings and he had to test
“Spider-Man.” That friend had
invited Wade and told him he
could bring someone else along.
Wade, easily one of the most
influential Americans of my lifeat this point, remembered that
the only thing I talked
about more than sports was
comics.
Look, I’m not saying that
was the greatest phone call I’ve
ever received, but I’ve had phone
conversations with Rihanna
d oppelgangers that weren’t as
exciting. As a c omic-book culture
reporter now, seeing a superhero
movie early is just part of
the job. But as a college senior,
I thought I had just hit the
lottery.
So later that night, me, Wade
and a few other people were
spread out in a R adford theater. I
got caught in the music immedi-
ately — it felt like each note was
grafting itself onto my DNA. And
that’s when the “music by Danny
Elfman” credit came on-screen.COLUMBIA PICTURES/EVERETT COLLECTION
Tobey Maguire as the titular superhero in 2002 ’s “Spider-Man,” directed by Sam Raimi. It started the movement for superhero movies.know this? Because on my own
wedding day, people called and
texted me asking what time the
ceremony was, asked for
directions to the church, and
told me they were bringing extra
guests.
I will be happy to run
wedding-day stories from others,
many of which will put your
aunt’s and uncle’s advance
requests in perspective.
The further happy news is that
none of this will matter. You’ ll
have a grand time.Amy's column appears seven days a
week at washingtonpost.com/advice.
Write to [email protected]
or Amy Dickinson, P.O. Box 194,
Freeville, N.Y. 13068. You can also
follow her @askingamy.© 2 022 by Amy Dickinson distributed by
Tribune Content Agencyit was later in the day, it would
be better ... just saying!”
I know she received the
invitation. I simply texted back
that the wedding started at 2:30.
I later found out that her
conflict is a garage sale she’s
been planning to have. This
week, another uncle texted:
“We’re just thinking about your
wedding day. How late in the
evening do you plan for the
reception to go?”
Amy, I believe if this were not
a gay wedding, these
inappropriate questions would
never be asked. I don’t think they
consider this wedding “real.”
Am I overreacting in being
offended?
— Two GroomsGrooms : I am so happy to report
that you are not being
discriminated against. How do I(one at a time) to go on an outing
with you and Kyle.
You are going to have to show
them how to be with him, and
when you do, one or both of your
brothers might develop their
own quirky kind of relationship
with Kyle, which would grow as
these uncles become more
confident. You can then ask if
they could each take him
perhaps one Saturday morning a
month for some “uncle time.”Dear Amy : My fiance and I have
been together for 4½ years. We
are getting married next month.
It will be a small wedding,
with fewer than 50 guests.
After sending our invitations,
stating a start time of 2:30 p.m.,
one of my aunts texted and
asked, “What time is the
wedding? We have a conflict that
we are working around. For us, ifThose of us who have special-
needs family members
understand that sometimes the
relationship can unlock qualities
that will put a person in touch
with their own deeper humanity.
If they got to know their
nephew, your brothers would see
that he has a sense of humor,
that he has a unique way of
seeing the world and processing
information, and, if he
connected with them and they
formed a close relationship, they
would simply be better men.
Do they want to be better
men? Maybe not.
They will not spontaneously
step up, because they don’t know
how. Do they need an engraved
invitation? Unfortunately, yes,
they do.
Rather than sharing your
disdain, you should ask your
brothers for help. Invite themmy son would benefit from:
Whether the occasional day trip
to the zoo, park, ballgame or the
treat of an overnight stay.
They haven’t offered in years.
They don’t have kids and live
nearby. Growing up, I was the
oldest brother who acted as
caretaker. I’ve always thought
each of them was spoiled and
self-centered.
Am I wrong to get so worked
up over this? I just cannot get
past my disdain. I know it’s not
their job to “parent” their
nephew, but a few hours of
quality time per month would
immeasurably help his psyche.
Your recommendations?
— Upset DadDad : Contact between these
uncles and “Kyle” would likely be
good for Kyle. It would also be
good for your brothers.Dear Amy : I have
a 9-year-old
special-needs
child. “Kyle” is
high-functioning
on the autism
spectrum, but doesn’t do well
with athletics and other “typical”
settings that might help a child
fit in, make friends and
otherwise have a functional
childhood dynamic.
We worry that he is becoming
more socially isolated. We are
very engaged and committed to
his therapy and well-being. Our
small families follow suit
(especially both sets of
grandparents).
My issue arises from my
younger (adult) brothers. They
are both loving uncles, but
seemingly detached.
I really resent their lack of
effort or involvement that I knowA reader is annoyed that his brothers aren’t more involved with his autistic sonAsk Amy
AMY
DICKINSON