In a larger sense, our society is guilty of throwing around the term "hero" as if it does not mean anything. Plug into an Xbox, and you too can become a "Guitar Hero." Turn on a TV and you can watch paid actors and actresses pretend to be "heroes." Ask a 14-year-old boy who his "hero" is, and he might say Manny Ramirez (well, so much for that).
We have, as Johnson noted in her column, forgotten who our heroes are. But I would go further and say that we have forgotten what it means to be a hero. Do our heroes even have to show great determination? Must they, among other qualities, be selfless anymore? Maybe a better question to ask is why do we believe our "heroes" are perfect and have lived the "ideal" life? And why does this matter?
We seem not yet to have learned that the imperfect are the true heroes. The unsung heroes, not the politicians or religious figures whom we have come to romanticize, are the most deserving of the title.
I first began thinking about this "hero" problem after reading an article on Telegraph's web site about a man named Phil Packer. Packer, a 36-year-old British Iraq War veteran, is far from the aforementioned stereotypical image of perfection. Wounded after a rocket attack struck his base in Basra, Iraq in February 2008, Packer suffered damage to his ribs and chest, a bruised heart and the loss of the motor and sensory use of his legs. Doctors told him that "he would never walk again."
But on May 9, Packer completed all 26.2 miles of the Flora London Marathon on crutches. As miraculous as that sounds, Packer finished the marathon a full two weeks after it had been held by walking the doctor-allowed two miles a day and continuing until the marathon was done and his goal was complete. That, to me, is determination.
Packer also exemplifies what it means to be selfless. As if beating the odds and completing a marathon were not enough, Packer intends to raise one million British pounds by July 1 for the charity Help for Heroes, which assists injured servicemen and servicewomen. Having already raised 762,000 pounds, he is well on his way to accomplishing that goal as well.
But for Packer, it seems, the goals never stop. Having already rowed the English Channel in under 15 hours and gone sky diving before trying his hand at a marathon, Packer plans to set off on a rock climbing expedition and complete 4,000 pull-ups in an allotted number of days to complete his fundraising goal.
Reading his amazing story, I found it easy to idealize who Packer is and what he represents. Nevertheless, I quickly caught myself falling into this same trap of idealizing "heroes" that I believe many of us are guilty of falling into.
Packer's story is inspiring, but it is so much more than that. His story surely exemplifies what it means to be a hero, but it also reminds us of one reason why heroes are important in the first place: by watching ordinary people like us pursue goals of their own, we can learn lessons about how to pursue our own goals and ambitions.
Someone can be called a hero, therefore, if he or she has something to teach. Packer embodies this idea. His lesson, I believe, is one best left in his own words: "The greatest realization I've had doing the marathon is that regardless of what happens to you in life, there are still major goals you can set yourself, and major achievements to be made. My injury is not a disability to me any more. It's all about what I can do, not about what I can't do. That feeling is very strong."
