Earlier today, I was recapping the few memories I have of my middle school years. The teachers, the bullies, then finally- one day that changed my life back in the days of seventh grade. It was 3rd period and Ms. Bradshaw will always be remembered as one of my most admired teachers. She always had a kind compassion for the little things- little stories that would warm your heart, even if for a split second. On a day that had already started out lousy, she lifted my spirits with this story:
One night, at 11:30 pm, an older African-American woman was standing on the side of a Alabama highway trying to endure a lashing rain storm. Her car had broken down and she desperately needed a ride. Soaking wet, she decided to flag down the next car. A young white man stopped to help her – generally unheard of in those conflict-filled 1960s. The man took her to safety, helped her get assistance and put her into a taxi cab. She seemed to be in a big hurry. She wrote down his address, thanked him and drove away.Seven days went by and a knock came on the man’s door. To his surprise, a giant combination console color TV and stereo record player were delivered to his home. A special note was attached.
The note read:
Dear Mr. James:
Thank you so much for assisting me on the highway the other night. The rain drenched not only my clothes but my spirits. Then you came along. Because of you, I was able to make it to my dying husband’s bedside just before he passed away. God bless you for helping me and unselfishly serving others.
Sincerely, Mrs. Nat King Cole.
Now, when was the last time you’ve ever come across a story like that being circulated throughout the media?
Think about it- the memories of the once good, safe times live not in the minds of our own generation, but in the memories of the ones who have come before us. Sometimes, I consider that maybe living life in say, pre-industrialized America wouldn’t be so bad after all; with fewer luxuries but broader horizons. Or maybe, that God had just placed me in the wrong generation.
(Oh but wait- God doesn’t make mistakes. So I’m stuck here for a reason, I suppose.)
Look around- In the past fifty years, attitudes, values, and priorities have been increasingly shaped by a mass-media culture.
Even the wisp of an afternoon summer breeze seems to be not as comforting as it once was.
I sometimes blame this predominantly on those we choose to display in the public’s eye. The celebrities, I mean. Famous people play a role of enormous proportions in our culture. Images of shapely celebrities adorn our streets, walls, magazines and televisions. We talk about them to our friends, reciting the latest tabloid gossip as our main point of conversation. We pretend they can do something other than look pretty; like they’re one step above human, almost. We invite stars to host conventions, we ask actors to speak about the injustices of war, and we have pop idols bringing food to starving refugees. It’s good-natured, certainly; but it’s sad that we’re more interested in famous people (even though they’re more “figureheads” than, say, activists), compared to real people who have points.
It just bothers me to discover celebrities are more important to us than the common heroes, such as the one in the story mentioned above.
We worship wealthy performers who change spouses as often as they change their hair color. We look up to rappers with sordid drug habits, or idolize movie characters whose talents don’t amount to much other than parading their wealth by day, and gratuitous sex by night. However, when dealing with celebrities, it’s easier to condone these errorneous habits and let their lavishing glamour justify the truth of the matter.
They win the hearts of millions with their beauty. And because of this, they are often given tacit permission to break the rules and sidestep the moral code.
Now, is that someone I would like to look up to?
No. I turn my head away from these celebrity “poster models”, and look up to those who walk among us. The people living normal lives with a more realistic view of things. These everyday heroes, I guess you would call them, aren’t flashy or flamboyant…more collected and reserved. I tend to look up to those who are less ornate, but more altruistic.
Defining a personal hero is a bit like allowing our diaries to be published. Through our choice of heroes, we show alot about ourselves. We reveal the individual values we honor and comment on those we perceive to be lacking in the world around us.
Our heroes represent the best of ourselves. Yet, being human and therefore flawed, they also allow us to discover our limitations, and look up to the certain characteristics of others with a respect and assurance that’s different for each person.
Heroes should be people who are willing to sacrifice their own interests for the greater good. Heroes should be those who, day after day, do what they believe is right, regardless of their audience, their temptations, their excuses, the unpopularity of their choice, or the outside reaction it may trigger. And they do what is right for rightness’ sake, not to earn brownie points or special favors.
Real heroes are not only those who risk life and limb to save another, but anyone ready to risk personal loss–of reputation, pride, friendship, confidence, money, pleasure, and opportunity–for the sake of what is right. These certain people, who surely walk among us, are people we should all recognize for their greatness.
And maybe, if we’re lucky, one of these days….the media will catch on, too.
