Heroes
October 18, 2000
My heroes haven’t always been cowboys. Growing up my heroine was Queen Elizabeth because my mother, not necessarily in a kindly way, would call me “Queen Elizabeth.” She was referring to my autocratic behavior but I, ever the optimist, took it as a compliment and marched on towards the throne I felt entitled to.
One day I read that she (the queen, not my mom) trained herself to remain calm even if a gun went off behind her. This took imagination since my father didn’t hunt and there were no guns within miles of our Denver address. However, I pretended, fervently, and to this day, I think I’m pretty ready for an assassination attempt.
My other hero was Roy Rogers. I have to say, not Dale. I liked Dale, I thought she was a good woman, but Roy, Roy was The Hero. I had that great Roy Rogers holster set with the leather fringe on the holsters. And the smell of fired caps! I LOVE the smell of fired caps! And horses—the golden Palomino Trigger. I agree with Roy about stuffing Trigger and putting him in his museum.
Anyway, who was your hero? My husband has chosen the clearly colorless but probably practical: “My dad and my scout master.” Oh, pleeeeze. A hero should have dash and verve. It’s probably better, in the long run, in my opinion, to not know your heroes.
The purpose of a hero is to help make yourself heroic. We read about the hero, watch him on TV, learn of the occasional charming mischance, but we know, in the end, he will always do the right thing. Through tragedy and trial, they will remain self-effacing and witty about themselves. They will remain on target. Some folks think it’s important to know the human side, but I think if we know too much about the human side, it gives us an excuse to give in to our own human side, once again, and we’ll never make it to “heroland” ourselves.
Our current level of knowledge of the human side of our heroes is making us a hero-less world. We learn about those who’ve reached great heights, but too often, it seems, we feel a need to bring them down to our level. Pretty soon, we’re thinking that there are no heroes, there are only ordinary guys who were in the right place at the time. And in a way, that’s right. But actually, no, it isn’t.
Heroes are not just heroes because of extra-extraordinary circumstances. Heroes create their own extra-ordinary circumstances as they reach beyond themselves. Heroes are the guys out there on the limb, taking chances. They are usually only on step away from being the fool of their own story rather than the hero.
Heroes have a vision that leads them away from the crowd and towards something only they have seen. Heroes make you want to follow them and when you arrive, you find the view is great and they’ve led you up and away from the ordinary moral pursuits.
Not that your scoutmaster can’t do that but…I wouldn’t count on it.
(As a postscript, I have to say that some of my heroes are single moms who have the vision to raise difficult kids and stick with them, bus drivers who give money to those organizations who take care of poor kids in South America because they envision a better world for all, and frankly, anyone who’s willing to pass off even one scout badge for a 12-year-old boy who looks like he dressed in a mud puddle has got to have something going for him.
And, of course, my husband. Everyone knows that the queen gets to marry the hero.)
My heroes haven’t always been cowboys. Growing up my heroine was Queen Elizabeth because my mother, not necessarily in a kindly way, would call me “Queen Elizabeth.” She was referring to my autocratic behavior but I, ever the optimist, took it as a compliment and marched on towards the throne I felt entitled to.
One day I read that she (the queen, not my mom) trained herself to remain calm even if a gun went off behind her. This took imagination since my father didn’t hunt and there were no guns within miles of our Denver address. However, I pretended, fervently, and to this day, I think I’m pretty ready for an assassination attempt.
My other hero was Roy Rogers. I have to say, not Dale. I liked Dale, I thought she was a good woman, but Roy, Roy was The Hero. I had that great Roy Rogers holster set with the leather fringe on the holsters. And the smell of fired caps! I LOVE the smell of fired caps! And horses—the golden Palomino Trigger. I agree with Roy about stuffing Trigger and putting him in his museum.
Anyway, who was your hero? My husband has chosen the clearly colorless but probably practical: “My dad and my scout master.” Oh, pleeeeze. A hero should have dash and verve. It’s probably better, in the long run, in my opinion, to not know your heroes.
The purpose of a hero is to help make yourself heroic. We read about the hero, watch him on TV, learn of the occasional charming mischance, but we know, in the end, he will always do the right thing. Through tragedy and trial, they will remain self-effacing and witty about themselves. They will remain on target. Some folks think it’s important to know the human side, but I think if we know too much about the human side, it gives us an excuse to give in to our own human side, once again, and we’ll never make it to “heroland” ourselves.
Our current level of knowledge of the human side of our heroes is making us a hero-less world. We learn about those who’ve reached great heights, but too often, it seems, we feel a need to bring them down to our level. Pretty soon, we’re thinking that there are no heroes, there are only ordinary guys who were in the right place at the time. And in a way, that’s right. But actually, no, it isn’t.
Heroes are not just heroes because of extra-extraordinary circumstances. Heroes create their own extra-ordinary circumstances as they reach beyond themselves. Heroes are the guys out there on the limb, taking chances. They are usually only on step away from being the fool of their own story rather than the hero.
Heroes have a vision that leads them away from the crowd and towards something only they have seen. Heroes make you want to follow them and when you arrive, you find the view is great and they’ve led you up and away from the ordinary moral pursuits.
Not that your scoutmaster can’t do that but…I wouldn’t count on it.
(As a postscript, I have to say that some of my heroes are single moms who have the vision to raise difficult kids and stick with them, bus drivers who give money to those organizations who take care of poor kids in South America because they envision a better world for all, and frankly, anyone who’s willing to pass off even one scout badge for a 12-year-old boy who looks like he dressed in a mud puddle has got to have something going for him.
And, of course, my husband. Everyone knows that the queen gets to marry the hero.)
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