We are programmed to seek our heroes in popular culture. Makes sense that our society wants us to be the best, so our immediate sources for entertainment should circle around those kinds of heroes who are direct (and most likely, American and have a large gun) and have substantial things that you don’t have. That way, you have to continuously work and contribute to those who make money without ever reaching those lofty goals. I think of John Wayne, who is frequently painted as a hero by those who define themselves as “Boomers.” But ask yourself, outside of defining himself and very, very manly, what did he do for society, other than to recommend you shoot things too? He donated money? Most likely. Did he save a busload of kiddies from falling off of a cliff?
No, I can’t think of much outside of that.
Sometimes, you can find a hero built outside of the constructions of popular existence. If you look to history, you can find those people who encouraged you without actually seeking to be a hero. They aren’t working for a large corporation or talent agency and walking around with their own fabricated myth. I know I’ve always liked Abraham Lincoln. He became president, and much like Obama, and had to pick up the pieces of the previous Commander-in-Chief’s mistakes. Buchanan had refused to deal with the issues of slavery, instead just paying lip-service to the people of the South to keep them happy. Four years were up and he vacated. Lincoln stepped up the plate. He went against his own party’s philosophies of states’ rights; he overstepped the dem’s beliefs by taking away further rights in an attempt to bring the nation back under control.
He had to watch every word he stated, lest another state turn on him. He knew the war was about equal rights and the ideals our forefathers had purported, but he knew as he stated the word ‘slavery’ even in the Northern states, he’d be destroyed. So he kept mum about the issues at hand and set about the task of nation-building. He got to work because it had to be done. He kept his nose clean; he let his intention be as clear as he could.
The markings of a hero.
So, for little old me, heroes are those who do what is necessary to get the job done. I suppose by that definition, I should praise “W” Bush, but let’s face it. He kept saying “Mission Accomplished,” as if he did. He invaded the wrong nation not because it needed to be done, but for vanity. He took away rights but gave rights for corporations to earn more money by raping the countryside.
So let’s avoid those in power when defining heroes, shall we?
It’s Mother’s Day. One of the few holidays I really think Hallmark got right. Valentine’s Day is a bit superfluous, for you should be celebrating love with your partner daily. Christmas? Completely commercial. Thanksgiving gets more to the point and has nothing to do with Hallmark.
But to celebrate something like moms? Since most of us had one at some point, by blood or family relations, it’s good to go. Since Boomers have made divorce so popular, you would think that would lessen the impact of this special Sunday, but it is strangely going strong, even if, for most, the coupling that defines a mom is losing its power.
This Mother’s Day, as I ponder the work that my own mother has done, I realize, well, she’s technically is my hero in more ways than any John Wayne or Abe Lincoln. I look at her and think, “wow, how could I ever do that well?”
It’s not like she’s made of money. But she gets by. She does her work; she makes ends meet. But it didn’t happen overnight.
The fact is, my biological father died when I was four years old. I hate having to use the adjective “biological” before his title, but I still refer to my step-dad as, ‘Dad.’ For all definitive purposes, he has been very much my father. But the man who was there to begin with sadly left the picture in the early seventies.
Now, this was a time of bra-burning and women’s rights. The pill was circulating like candy and women were becoming more and more part of the workforce. In that way, my mother had an advantage. This wind of change got her a job and got her in the door, as a single mom. I look back at myself in my mid-twenties. I was on my own with a decent job and was doing the things I had missed out on in my teens. I had come out of the closet around that time and saw the world through very new eyes.
I could only imagine having kids, let alone TWO! I’m too immature NOW, I couldn’t imagine being how old she was with tykes. I like staying up late, I like playing video games. I couldn’t ruin it with kids. But she did, holding down two, three jobs. I was part of the latchkey generation of Xers, but the reason was clear, even to my young age. But she did it.
And she had lost her husband. If David had died, I wonder if I could even feed myself. He brings me joy even when he’s grouchy with me; he makes me happy even when he’s not in the room. If he were to pass? I tear up with thought; I doubt functions would continue. My mother felt those things too. Her husband died after a prolonged bout with cancer. But she kept going.
With two kids. Two kids who were less than perfect.
But she did it.
In the movie A River Runs Through It, there’s a quote, something along the lines of “the questions of youth, if not answered by a certain time, never will be.” With my Mom, all the aggravations posed from a rough kid-hood (mostly inspired by my rambunctious older sibling) eventually faded. Now we call each other not to report on the latest goings-on and landmarks we’ve cleared, but to just sorta check in and make fun of our bizarre family. I know that these communications bring about a sense of connection and belonging that far surpasses the cultural milestones that we must all obey (birthdays, anniversaries and the like). Childhood and the lectures my mother are supposed to give me have faded to nonexistent and we see each others as equals.
As I recall the importance of this day, however, as much as the phone calls suggest otherwise, I cannot accept my mother as an equal. The purpose of a hero is to beyond anything I can accomplish but certainly can aspire to be.
Here’s to you Mom. You are my hero. Today and every day.
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