Sunday Scribble: I AM NO HERO!

Sunday Scribble:

I AM NO HERO!

Last week I shaved my head.  I even wrote about it here when I discussed wearing a kilt.  I thought I was brave for doing it and tried to make a big deal about wearing something that was completely different and not normal.  Wearing it brought me some fear and was able to get a lot of kids on board with shaving their heads.  But I’m no hero. 

I don’t say this to convince myself, knew it long ago.  I say this because I want to make sure that there is a clear delineation between what a hero is and what a hero isn’t.   Me shaving my head, wearing a kilt is good for the kids, shows lots of spirit and commitment to cause, and maybe even draws some more students into donating money or shaving their heads.  But I am not a hero. 

Working on the Sussex Tech Fashion Show has given me the opportunity to know some heroes.  A little background first.  For the second year in a row the Fashion Show is trying to raise money to put together the cemetery that is going up next to Sussex Tech.  Last year the Fashion Show and Sussex Tech raised $13,000.  This year we’re hoping to break that amount. 

However, my point still stands.  While I am no hero, the people who we are doing the Fashion Show for are heroes, and families of heroes.  I can think of nothing sadder than hearing a Gold Star mother tell me that she appreciates my efforts because she cannot drive the three hours to South Jersey, where her son is buried.  That bringing him up here to Sparta is her greatest hope and prayer.  It leaves you speechless, and if it doesn’t- well you just don’t get it.

I can never understand or know what these heroes and their families have gone through.  I can appreciate and respect it.  It’s a humbling feeling getting hugged by a man old enough to be my father, tears running down his cheeks.  He struggles to thank you for making it possible for his wife to visit him when he’s no longer here, that she won’t risk her life to drive so far in her declining health. 

Meeting wounded soldiers, so damaged from the foreign war and the one waged in them on a daily basis, when they can’t hold a job that pays more than $12 an hour; their families struggling to live on less than $25,000 a year, with veteran’s benefits. 

There is no substitute for courage, valor or the heart of love of country.   These brave men and women are more than just some forgotten statistic from some power struggle.  We fight wars for various reasons, and this is neither condemnation nor support for those reasons.  Instead, it’s just meant as support for those who fought it in our name, for the love of their country. 

Every day of my life I look up at my father’s flag in my office, it’s triangle box of wood a poor substitute for the mountain of my life he represented.  I wonder at how many other triangles are out there, not observed by a grown adult man who lost his father, but a child whose only way of remembering his father is that wooden triangle with the stars and stripes folded inside. 

I am no hero.  Are you?