My Hero

The Daily Post: Daily Prompt – Who’s your hero? Tell us a story about why that person plays such an important role in your life.


My current unit, as many of you already know, is over “Beowulf,” but we’re reading Michael Crichton’s Eaters of the Dead first.  We’ve been talking a lot about monsters and heroes and I’ve assigned an essay for the students to write about their heroes.  So it’s only fair that I stumble upon this prompt and write about my heroes.

There was a time in my life when I only looked up to people who weren’t related to me, or at least, people who didn’t like my parents.  If you asked who I wanted to meet, dead or alive, when I was a teenager, I would’ve chosen historical figures, like Abraham Lincoln or Osceola or Sacagawea or Eleanor of Aquitaine. History consumed my life: articles, textbooks, documentaries, novels… there were worlds that were so different from my own, preferable even.

But now that I’m older, my grandparents have passed away, and my parents have retired and live far from me, I’ve come to value family more and more.  I guess the adage is true, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s moved away.  Because of this, I think, I respect my parents more than I ever dreamed possible.  We don’t talk that often, but I always go to them first when I have a crisis or need “life” advice.  Dad more so than Mom; not that she isn’t equally wise – she is! – but Dad is very direct, he cuts through the emotional garbage to the bare naked truth.  And I need this.  I can be extremely emotional.

For this reason and sundry others, Dad is my hero.  He doesn’t wear a cape and looks shockingly like a mountain man, but he has done everything in his power to be a good man, a good husband to my mother, and a good father to me and my siblings.

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