Heroes

Lets talk about heroes.

In this year of Obama, an historic election, Michael Phelps and the Olympics, the term hero has been tossed about in such a cavallier manner that it is beginning to lose it's weight, it's heft, it's sway, it's swagger, it's importance. I admire many celebrities, politicians, sports heroes. Folks like soldiers, cops, firefighters, and teachers are unanimously lauded with the term.

But a hero is someone who does great deeds for the selfless benefit of others. So while the last group I mentioned fall under that definition, they are broad-based heroes who's job requires them to perform selfless acts as the norm.

Personal heroes, on the other hand, are different. And while certain accomplished individuals may be thought of as heroes to certain people, individuals like Michael Jordan or Hillary Clinton, they are not personal heroes, but should rather classified as role models or inspirations.

Heroes, personal heroes, are those that you owe a debt to, that have changed your life through personal interaction.

These are mine:

My Dad. My Dad, in technical terms is my stepdad, but in reality, he is the only father I have ever known or loved. Our early years together were tumultuous, to put it lightly, but in retrospect, only so due to his profound desire to see me live up to my full potential. He saw things in me I didn't and pushed me toward a life of responsibility. It took a long time for me to realize the benefit of his tough love, but I can say that the only reason I ever succeeded in the business and real world is by coming to follow his example. In all my working years, I always tried to conduct myself as I imagined he would. I did everything to prove him right, and I hope I have. Now that I am in a position where I may not be able to return to the working world , I feel as if I have let him down by not being able to continue my journey in the business world. Now, I look to his example for guidance as I learn to adapt to a new lifestyle. I owe more to my Dad than anyone else. Others have touched my life, and made great impacts, but none more so or in a more lasting manner than he. My Dad is my hero.

Friends come and go, but two stand out for remaining by my side for over twenty years:

Jenifer Kloss was the first to befriend a gawky but arrogant teen joining the college world for the first time. She has always been a sounding board, an encouraging word, a laugh in dark hours, a reliable passport to Wrigley Field. She has shared her heartbreaks and wins, her thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. She has laid herself bare before me and has given me every ounce of trust one friend can give another. She has always been there when I needed her, and has tolerated my slow and tedious evolution from Alex P Keaton to Stephen Keaton. She is a part of my family and I know that twenty years from now, I could write this same affirmation word for word. Her ability to overcome setback after setback makes it very hard for me to slip into despair over my own. Jenifer is my hero friend.

Bob Walters has been the brother I never had. We hated each other for the first year we knew one another. Jenifer Kloss is the one who saw how very alike we are and was responsible for pushing us together, most forcibly, I might add. Bob has always been the one who has set out with specific life goals in mind and has never failed to accomplish them. He is the epitome of "yes I can." Never one to meddle, proffer advice, or chastise, he simply lends an ear, and tries to change the subject toward something summarily odd. Bob is a storyteller. Bob is a strange mix of Midwestern sensibility and Hollywood indifference to the extraordinary. Nothing phases him. Nothing flusters him. Nothing stops him. Bob's ability to remain a consistent force of calm and distraction, an example that you can do whatever you put your mind to, makes Bob Walters one of my heroes.

Marsha Goldberg worked with me for a short time, but her devotion to the good will of others has led to my subsequent diagnosis and treatment that has eluded me for so long. She simply said: I want to help you and I will help you. And she did. With no ulterior motive, she set about lobbying her doctor-husband to get me treatment with his colleagues at Oregon Health and Sciences University. She has called to check on my well being, she takes the time to write thoughtful and heartfelt responses to my writing. She has written the most glowing appraisal of my abilities to aid my return to the collegiate world. A published author and former teacher, she has spent her life giving to others without want of reward. There are so few of her kind in this world and I am beyond blessed to have her in my life and in my corner. For re-affirming my belief that there are good, honest, and true people in this ever increasingly selfish and self-possessed world. Marsha Goldberg is my hero.

Her nickname is Cheese Sammich. Her real name is Anni and she is my huge-hearted sister-in-law. In-law affections can always be iffy, but this is not about our getting along. It is about her whole-hearted commitment to the well-being of Lisa. Not even blood-related (it's hard to explain), they share a collective consciousness that borders on the uncanny. Generosity oozes from her, genuine compassion, and a love for Lisa that transcends family. Selfless. Empathetic. Brilliant. Talented. Somehow she has made it her mission to try and rescue us from our troubles simply because that is her heart. She is a hero to me because she has been able to buttress Lisa in her times of need in a way that shows her that family, even without blood ties, matters. She is my family, she is my sister, she is my hero.

But my life, my entire existence would be for naught without one person. Without Lisa, I would have remained a drifting, lost, and hopeless soul. I was so afraid of love and commitment. I never thought anyone would be able to see through all the walls, obfuscation, and resistance to opening my heart to others. I tried to dissuade her many many times, nearly breaking her heart, selfishly out of fear that she would break mine like so many others had. But she persevered, knowing that we were two souls unable to shake destiny. She saw those things that my Dad saw so long ago. She saw my potential to love, to grow, to be a better man. She has never lost faith that I might be better than I could imagine myself being. She has never given up on our future together as I continue to battle illness and she battles hers. Two hearts, linked together by pain, sympathy, and undeniable love. I know know that she will never leave, never give up on me or on us, will never resent or blame. She has taught me ultimate trust and there has never been a greater gift given me in my life. This woman, this amazing woman, loves me without pause. This amazing woman is my love, my wife, my hero.

To be sure, there are many others who have touched me and supported me: my Mom (to be sure; no one has been more in my corner or put up with more), my sister, my Aunt Frannie, to name a few. So many good people have come and gone in my life, but my heroes are the ones who have literally changed my life for the better and continue to do so.

So take a moment and reassess your definition of a hero. They may not be on posters, but they are plastered all over the walls of your heart.