By Peter Parker
Freelance Reporter

 What defines a life well-lived? For some, it’s fame and fortune. Those people will argue that the love and wealth illustrate the peak of a wonderful life, that they had made it somewhere. For others, what constitutes a great life is doing more than just surviving, in fact, actively surrounding oneself with loved ones and knowing they made a difference with their life. The previously posed question is oftentimes very difficult to answer, especially considering that no two people share exact views on life. However, to someone by the likes of Steve Rogers, a life well-lived is being true to his self.
 Born in Brooklyn, New York, at the beginning of July 1922 to Irish immigrant parents, Steve claims to have lived an ordinary life despite suffering from numerous physical ailments into his adulthood. His father, Joseph Rogers, was a United States Army veteran who passed away when he was four-years-old, leaving his mother to take care of him. Sarah Rogers, “the fiercest woman I’ve ever had the honor to have in my life,” Steve notes, constantly worked double shifts as a nurse in hospital tuberculosis wards and washed laundry to keep food on the table. There is a wistful look in his eyes as he recalls, “I wouldn’t be the man I am today without my Ma. I owe her everything.”
 Steve recounts people in his life always saying that he had nine lives due to his chronic illnesses; remembers the years between his mother’s untimely passing to when General Chester Phillips told him that his entire life was going to change. Steve explains what it was like in those years, elaborating, “Contrary to popular belief, I actually didn’t find myself jonesing around the docks for [explicit] like everyone assumed. I did sketches, sold portraits. Painted a couple murals twice my height on the sides of buildings—do you think all of ‘em are gone by now?” This author suggests a mural tour of Manhattan one day to see if any remain.
 When asked about Phillips and the road to Project Rebirth, Steve had a lot to say but also not a lot of wiggle room to legally divulge his entire experience. “What I can say, though… If I’m being honest, I didn’t care if he was telling much of the truth at that point,” he laughs. “All I cared about was being able to fight, to not feel useless anymore.” There are very little regrets Steve has in life, but he can think of an important one: “I wish I could’ve thanked him properly, in the end. Without Rebirth, hell, without Captain America, I’d never had met the loves of my life.”
 This is the instance that Steve circles back to his values, the authenticity and kindness that his Ma had instilled in him. With Peggy Carter, Steve mentions, he fell hard and fast. What started off as a whirlwind romance soon evolved into “one of the most meaningful relationships at the most chaotic times of [his] life.” According to Steve, they met in a café when it was pouring rain and Peggy was working undercover. He says for him it was definitely attraction at first sight; it wasn’t until he saw her take down a room full of Nazi soldiers on her own that he realized that he was in love. “I learned so much from her. She was my first love,” Steve reveals. “That stays with you no matter what.”
 Steve’s ease is nearly palpable, even through a computer screen, when he starts talking about James Barnes, the man history knows as Captain America’s sidekick, the man Steve considered his best friend. Love is all he had for Bucky—an endearing nickname, Steve explains—both platonic and romantic. “There is no doubt that he was like a twin flame. We were so much alike that we kind of hated each other, in the beginning,” he muses.
 Bucky was the first person in Steve’s life that made him realize that he wasn’t only attracted to women. Even then, it took years before he realized his feelings for his best friend and decided to do something about it. “It was like watching the sunrise, slow-going but inevitably beautiful. Like a frog in slowly boiling water. I’d always loved him, even back in ’41 when the military brass first stuck us together, although it wasn’t until after Peggy that I could put a name to it.” Steve hadn’t so much as fidgeted during his stories until now, but he grabs hold of his dog tags hanging from his neck. “The world already knows it, I suppose,” he laments, “but we were together ‘til the end of the line.”

 Continued on Feature Page 5…