I am a hero. Sure, I don’t run around in a cape, or pull people from burning buildings. I don’t have huge muscles, or x-ray vision. My weapon is a laptop, the scene of my great feats a couch at home. My rescues are not physical.

I find people. People who have been lost for a long time. Digging through databases, and searching through records, I find names, dates, and occupations. I discover parents, children, siblings, and spouses who were also lost. It requires checking and double checking to make sure I have the right person.

Each person found gives me the satisfaction of adding their info to my chart of hundreds. The satisfaction of being part of a network of thousands, millions of people, all working to make sure that no one stays lost, that names hidden by time are brought to light.

My work is completely absorbing, enthralling me, each name making me want more, to find it all. Hours pass in what feels like minutes. Money slips through my fingers, giving me access to countless documents. All this to find a few more names, each person found telling me more about myself.

So in all? Superman can keep his muscles, Batman his awesome gadgets, Because nothing, NOTHING is as satisfying as being a genealogy worker.