So I was thinking ... about heroes. What does it mean to have a hero today? Most of us are at a point in our lives where we don't necessarily look up to others in a purely idolatrous way. Instead, we tend to have what I call "real-life heroes": individuals who are tangible forces in our lives and impact what we do and how we do it on a regular basis. These are the people about whom I am writing.
Who are your heroes? Maybe they are your parents or other relatives. Maybe they are athletes. Maybe they are politicians or world leaders. Maybe they are artists or authors. Maybe they are activists.
My definition of the word "hero" has changed significantly as I've grown older and experienced more in life. When I was in fourth grade, I started playing basketball. I used to love playing with the boys during recess, at lunch and after school. Basketball opened up a whole new world for me: I became social and active through the sport.
The more I played basketball, the more I wanted to learn about it, so I started watching NBA games on television. It wasn't long before I had a favorite team: the Los Angeles Lakers. (Keep in mind that this was during the mid-to-late '80s, when the Lakers were very well-known for being a premiere team).
Looking back now, I think that the primary reason I watched the Lakers was Earvin "Magic" Johnson. For those of you unfamiliar with Magic, he was, in his time, considered one of the best basketball players in the nation. He was an unconventional point guard in that he is 6'9," and he has an incredible smile that is disarming in its genuineness. I looked up to him instantly: the moves he made on the court, combined with that wonderful smile and ever-positive demeanor were all I needed for inspiration. He was my hero.
These days, though, I am a bit more picky in whom I declare to be my heroes. It takes more than athletic ability, public charisma and charm. As I was thinking about writing this column, I realized that my modern day, real-life heroes are individuals who tend to fall into four areas.
My real-life heroes are accessible. After all, their accessibility is what makes them real. My heroes are people with whom I can actually interact, talk to and see.
They represent what real life is all about. They are not television personas.
Unlike with Magic Johnson, I can learn from my heroes because they are accessible to me. They take time out of their busy schedules to have coffee or tea, breakfast or lunch with me, and they teach me through personal examples and stories. They are available when I need them and even reach out to me before I ask. I truly can emulate these individuals because they are tangible presences in my life.
I am challenged by my heroes. They are the people who push me on assumptions I make. They are the people who question my reasoning. They suggest new ideas to me, and they open my eyes to the realities of both college and life beyond Dartmouth. They are smart and thoughtful and insightful. They ask questions and listen to the answers. My heroes make me want to be a better person.
Conversely, my heroes allow me to challenge them: they let me push back, and they answer my questions honestly and deliberately. They let me challenge this fine institution and then help me to make it a better place.
My heroes are patient with me. They understand my need to make decisions for my own good, despite previous commitments I might have made. They understand my relative inexperience and naivete and continue to be encouraging and supportive. They let me screw up. They use their experience to help me see more of my world. They have helped me to build a new vocabulary.
My heroes are also individuals who are self-aware. They know their own limits and can see their own shortcomings. They continually work to establish balance, and they understand that setting limits is an OK thing to do. They skip meetings to take care of and be with their families and friends.
They are consistent in their values, which are then reflected in their commitments. They are willing to learn and are open to new ideas, suggestions and viewpoints. My heroes have spent time introspectively analyzing themselves and take the time to share that insight with me and others.
Dartmouth College, fortunately, is full of these sorts of individuals. I find real-life heroes in my peers -- when I see the importance they place on their families and other pursuits -- as well as in faculty members -- whom I've found to be simultaneously challenging and supportive and in administrators -- who are infinitely and wonderfully human, despite what any title proclaims.
Unlike Magic Johnson, my contemporary heroes are people who are real to me. Every time I walk across the Green or through Parkhurst or sit on the porch of Collis, I interact with my heroes. Though these words never seem sufficient, I nevertheless resort to them: thank you.
Thank you for inspiring, impassioning and challenging me.
