As children, we did not need comic-book superheroes. We had our own. In our corner of the Zürcher Oberland, the ultimate name was Max Wolfensberger, a figure of almost mythical strength, borrowed from the adult world and transformed into childhood legend. Only many years later did I discover the real man behind the name, and with that discovery came not disillusionment, but a deeper tenderness for both him and the beautiful innocence of those early years.