I’d rather be the Lone Ranger.
Once I was at a wedding when a three-year-old girl looked in awe at the bride. She asked her mommy if she could meet the princess.
I’ve heard women say they tried to steer their daughters away from the whole princess thing, but to no avail. And having three sisters, I’m not surprised.
But as a boy I thought being a prince was a rip-off. My sisters didn’t understand why.
Instead, I wanted to be the Lone Ranger.
A prince is not his own man
A prince is ornamental. He’s only there to indulge the princesses’s ego. He has to do dangerous things like fight dragons, not because the dragon has it coming, but because he has to prove himself worthy for a princess who, frankly, doesn’t do much except get spoiled.
The Lone Ranger, though, goes where he wants when he wants. He’s his own man. He’ll fight the bad guys because he has it in for them, and then he rides off into the sunset.
If he doesn’t feel like a high noon showdown today then he’ll stay at camp and have a fart contest with Tonto. They don’t show it in the old movies (except Blazing Saddles), but you know they had fart contests.
Reality, however, is that both princesses and the Lone Ranger are fantasies. People like to complain about “adulting,” but that’s life.
A popular theme in Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations is the Stoic duty to be a good citizen, a good man, good husband, and a good father.
The total independence of the Lone Ranger is impossible because we need each other to survive. Someone had to make his clothes, his guns, Silver’s saddle, and the beans. Not to mention Tonto saving his ass on multiple occasions.
Plus, as a Texas Ranger, I assume there was a bureaucrat somewhere in Austin who had to fill out an annual employee evaluation form.
Independence, then, has to do with not placing your value as a person in stuff, the opinion of others, or anything that isn’t up to you.