What is a hero?

There's been a lot of talk about heroes in the past few years. After 9/11, I read biographical information on several of them, and wondered if I could ever be that brave. More recently, there was the man in NYC who jumped onto the tracks of the subway and covered another's body with his own, shielding him from certain death on the tracks. And television is full of them. (I must confess I haven't watched Heroes yet, because I haven't been interested, but I understand that lots of people love the show.)

Last week, in our local paper, a doctor wrote a letter to the editor. He said that he took exception to a billboard in downtown Louisville that shows hospital personnel with their arms folded across their chests, and the word "Heroes" written above their heads. This letter-writer opines that hospital employees are not heroes simply because of their vocations, and that parents of our soldiers should rightly be offended by the casual use of a word better-suited to fit their brave sons and daughters.

I've been thinking about this, as we have just been on the receiving end of some heroic nursing care in one of these local hospitals, and so I looked up the definition of the word, to see if in fact this doctor is right. Here it is:

hero: a man of exceptional skill, bravery or nobility; the lead in a story

Here's the conclusion I've reached. Yes, our soldiers are heroes. Definitely, without a doubt! Their sacrifices make my opinions possible, and I am grateful!

But there's not a maximum allowable number of heroes, either. I'm thinking of the doctor who physically touched my grandmother's heart with his own hands, then touched mine, too, when he put those same hands on my shoulders and asked how he could help me. I'm picturing the two nurses who kept Neeny's arthritic soldiers under blankets, who told me stories of miracles and losses they had seen in their own lives, and who counted the bites I ate when I wasn't doing very well on my own.
I'm picturing my brother-in-law, sooty and pumped up with adrenaline when he was able to save someone from a burning building. I'm imagining the doctors and nurses in a local children's cancer ward, and wonder how they do it day after day. I'm thinking of the neighbor, who bathes and talks to her mother every night, never to be remembered or recognized. I'm thinking of the teacher who finally makes the breakthrough that allows that child to be independent--just before it's time to send him on to middle school. I'm envisioning the minister who prays for the wayward child of a stranger, and celebrates with her when her child comes "home."

After considering all of this, I must disagree with this particular letter-writer. While I appreciate his thoughts, I appreciate more the notion that there are exceptionally brave, noble, and skillful people all around us. We do well to remember these heroes in our own little circles, as well as the ones who are fighting to protect us abroad.