Today would have been my father’s 100th birthday. It always used to sneak up on me, but this year, I saw it coming a few days ago.
Like everyone else, my parents grew in my esteem as I aged. I used to think my dad’s highest value was good table manners, but now I realize that he knew manners were essential to thoughtful, and often humorous, conversation, which we had aplenty around the dinner table every night.
My dad also had those conversations around the water cooler at work and on the bus every day. (As little girls, my sister and I would meet him at the corner bus stop after work, and holding our hands, he’d skip with us down the street home, change jingling in his business suit pockets).
Years later, when I was in college, my dad, a buttoned-up 50s kind of guy, said, “I don’t tell you or the others enough, but I love you.” It’s hard to believe now, but that was before the days of “let it all hang out,” and saying those simple words represented a big change for him, a big step outside his comfort zone.
I’ve come to think that may be what heroism is – the courage to risk saying, doing, or standing for something that’s outside your comfort zone, but what you know is the right thing to do, say or stand for.
The beginning of February is also an opportunity to look back and check in our New Year’s Resolutions, or if that’s too oppressive and self-critical a term for some, our goals.
Goals are a good thing to have, for they’re nothing less than dreams with a plan. Personally, I’ve done pretty well with my goal to learn more about internet technology, starting with googling terms I don’t understand like Wi-Fi and broadband. But I have sucked (sorry, it’s the best word for it) when it comes to being more physical. I can blame the cold and the snow and the flu, but instead of blaming them or myself, I’ll go easy on us all, and say it’s my natural season of hibernation. Starting today, I’ll walk into Eastsound instead of driving, every chance I get. How’s that for a plan?
But what February brings to me all month long, is a consideration of heroism, because the birthdays of Lincoln and Washington, and the celebration of President’s Day call to mind heroic leadership. One of the first books I ever read was a biography of Lincoln and I remember marveling at the “blab” schools and shuddering at the poverty and sickness he experienced. Then, I thought his most heroic act was “Freeing the Slaves,” but now I appreciate his study and practice of the rule of law, his struggles with depression and his expertise in politics.
My childhood education was heavy on heroes, Christian saints they were mostly in the early years, but I was lucky enough to come of age with John Kennedy’s and Lyndon Johnson’s presidencies. The journalists, publishers and government officials who uncovered and prosecuted the violations of Watergate also aroused my admiration.
It’s worth some thought: who are our heroes and what is it that constitutes heroic modeling vs. blind following?
I was somewhat dismayed two years ago, when I asked a number of high-school aged kids who their heroes were. The word itself seemed foreign to several of them.
I hope that, as school lets out and businesses and government offices close for Presidents Day, people young and old will be asking:
“What was so great about Lincoln or Washington or other Presidents?”
“Who were my heroes growing up?”
“Who are my heroes now?”
I’ll go first. My local hero is Alex MacLeod, who, as head of the San Juans Ferry Advisory Committee, studied and researched the state ferry finances and spoke out boldly when others were hedging their bets.
My other hero is Oprah Winfrey who could easily have fallen into victimhood, but instead acknowledged her gifts (and her struggles) and has helped countless others acknowledge theirs.
Last month, my brother-in-law Bill brought some homemade lasagna to my sisters who were keeping a 24/7 vigil by my dying mother’s bedside. While they took a break and hungrily fed themselves, he sat down by her bed and she leaned toward him and said, “You’ll always be my hero.” These were some of the last words that she spoke before she died.
Bill is a behind the scenes “good guy,” always there to fix something broken, do an odd job, bring over a loaf of fresh banana bread or a pot of soup. When Bill and my sister lived abroad and my parents came to visit, it was Bill who drove the car on trips to Ireland, England and Spain. He was patient and tolerant of my mom’s desire to go on the back roads to find all of the historic landmarks she loved. More heroic was his willingness to stop the car every time my dad, the renowned Cloudman, wanted to photograph a beautiful skyscape.
As my mom said in the last months of her life, these little unspoken acts of kindness, are the power that we all possess to make a difference in the world. “Don’t be late with the loving”, she said. “Do it now!” We can all be heros like Bill and quietly spread peace and love around the world.
Last month, my brother-in-law Bill brought some homemade lasagna to my sisters who were keeping a 24/7 vigil by my dying mother’s bedside. While they took a break and hungrily fed themselves, he sat down by her bed and she leaned toward him and said, “You’ll always be my hero.” These were some of the last words that she spoke before she died.
Bill is a behind the scenes “good guy,” always there to fix something broken, do an odd job, bring over a loaf of fresh banana bread or a pot of soup. When Bill and my sister lived abroad and my parents came to visit, it was Bill who drove the car on trips to Ireland, England and Spain. He was patient and tolerant of my mom’s desire to go on the back roads to find all of the historic landmarks she loved. More heroic was his willingness to stop the car every time my dad, the renowned Cloudman, wanted to photograph a beautiful skyscape.
As my mom said in the last months of her life, these little unspoken acts of kindness, are the power that we all possess to make a difference in the world. “Don’t be late with the loving”, she said. “Do it now!” We can all be heros like Bill and quietly spread peace and love around the world.