What Makes Someone A Hero?

This one is inspired by an e-mail my Aunt sent me. During answering a question she asked I started thinking about how two people I know especially one in particular helped save me. It is hard to explain, but I am going to try. I am also going to try to explain and list the things I believe make a person a hero.

First though I have a question for you. When you here the word hero what comes to mind?

Do you think of superheros such as Spiderman, Batman, Wonderwoman? Do you think of a person who rescues someone from harm? How about Firefighters, Police, Doctors, Nurses, or Soldiers?


Do you ever think of parents, teachers, grandparents, foster parents, Aunts, Uncles, sisters, brothers, or a person/couple that adopt a child? How about a neighbor who helps a child find their way home or that gives a child a safe place to hide? Are friends who are there for you through all the good and bad times heros?

To me what makes a hero is simple. It is someone who saves a person or makes a difference in a positive way to someone's life. There are many ways to be a hero and each person has what it takes.

What made me start thinking about this is thinking about my Mom's parents. It is hard for me to say all the things they did for me and my family. I probably don't even know everything. Many things I have learned, but I am sure there are still some secrets I may never know. Honestly for the first time in my life I think it might be better not to know some of them. Well here it goes. I will try to write this clearly without putting anything negative in here. For those who know some of the things that I went through. Well you might realize how important some of those small things were. Yet I am sorry to say I don't think any of those reading this will ever know everything I went through and you probably never will. Some things are best left in the past. That is where they belong. So here goes nothing. I hope I do just for what I am going to say.

My childhood has never been picture perfect. Growing up hearing how my parents once were or how great things were before my memories doesn't change that I never really knew those times. Please understand my childhood is part of what made me who I am. It was both the good and the bad. If it wasn't for them both I don't think I would understand other people's problems as well. I have no anger toward anyone who may have caused in pain in my past, but it is those people who were there during those painful times that I made it through. The two main rocks in that were my Mom's Parents. Especially my Grandma.

Telling how my Grandma saved me and helped me is hard. There is a lot of hard to explain things. Mostly they are hard due to I am just now realizing the importance. I am starting to think we all subconsciously know how important a moment is at the time. The problem is we may only realize later how important that moment is and we may not have the chance to tell those who made it important.

If someone listens to me and hears what I say they will realize Oregon is important to me. I moved around a lot when I was little. Most people know that, but they have a hard time keeping track of it all. I don't think most people can wrap their head around my life. To tell the truth I have a hard time with it myself, but that is more due to the way my brain works. Most people don't realize I only have bits and pieces of memories. Some things I remember so clearly that I feel almost as if I could reach out and touch them. It sometimes feels like I am actually there. Then there are the memories that seem vague and distant. Those ones feel more like they were part of a story told to me. They are the ones I feel so distant from that even when I tell them I feel disconnected from them. Then there are the ones that pop up here and there. They are only fragments that I sometimes can grab and other times I just get a glimpse and forget. I am sure there are still those memories that are suppressed. I only believe that due to several that have hit me at different times when I least expected it. So I don't think it is to unbelievable to believe that there may be more. Sorry I regressed, but maybe this will help you understand the rest.

Oregon is important to me mainly due to it is the only place that has always been in my life. It is where my Mom's parents lived. So in the beginning it is where I went every summer. We would spend the 4th of July and my Grandpa's Birthday there. I remember some of those memories. They are vague due to how little I was, but they are some of the more tangible ones I have. I remember watching Grandpa make homemade ice cream and he would let us test taste it. I remember Grandma grabbing apples out of her huge shed so we could feed them to the neighbors donkey. There were the evenings when my Uncle Danny would help light the sparklers for us kids. I remember I only wanted him to light mine. Then it would start to get dark. We would all go out to the driveway that overlooked Ashland and watch the fireworks. My Dad would sing to us and I always insisted he sing Lemon Tree. There also was the parade that happened in downtown Ashland. This is back when Ashland still had the old shops. Before the original owners sold them due to getting to old. Now most of those shops are gone and there are a lot of new fangled shops in their place. Every time I think about that I am sad. Mainly due to those shopkeepers were the same ones that knew my Mom when she was little. Those were the days when most people in Ashland knew my Grandparents' name.

Later as my life changed and my family started moving Oregon remained a part of my life. At one point I lived with my Grandparents during my 2nd grade year. Don't ask me how long we were there. I honestly don't remember,but I can tell you most of the good memories that year were when I was there. It was that year that we did most of our moves. The year before is when my Dad's mother passed away and a lot happened after that. I know I didn't start that year in Ashland and I didn't finish it there either. Honestly I don't remember where I started my 2nd grade year. I know I went to several schools in Idaho that year, one in Nevada, Ashland for part of it, and I finished the very last part of it in Kemmerer, Wy. When my Dad came to tell us it was time to leave my Grandparents' home I didn't want to go. I liked it there. People were nice to me and my Grandma made me feel like everything was going to be alright. That was the most stable and normal time I ever had. There weren't any scary moments while I was there. There were to many good memories while I was there to mention, but I can say that was one of the few times in my life that anyone came to my school to see me do anything.

During that year as I mentioned we moved to Kemmerer, Wyoming. School wise it was the worst of my life. Home wise things were still yet to get worse. The next year toward the beginning of 3rd Grade my Grandparents came to visit. Honestly other than church, youth group, my friend Sara, and my best friend Jenny it was the only good memory I had in that town. I literally only had two friends even close to my age. The others were my sisters friends in Jr. High. The rest of the town well lets say treated me worst than any other place I had been before or since. It was there that I first almost lost my temper and I was about to hit someone. Granted there were some people who secretly wanted to be my friend, but knowing that didn't take the hurt away. It only gave me understanding later and made me feel bad for them. During my Grandparent's visit my Grandpa walked to and from school with me everyday and even took the time to stay for a little while one day. Which meant the world to me.

As I got older we ended up moving back to Oregon. On our way back there we stopped in Ashland to see my Grandparents. We ended up staying in our bus in the church parking lot for a while. Then we came back and stayed above Ashland at a lake. Eventually after driving around the Coast and several visits to Ashland area we landed in Winchester Bay and then Lakeside. While living there my Grandparents came and visited. They also a few times talked my parents into visiting them a few times. Once I got old enough to start wanting to write letters and want family around I started writing my Grandma. She would tell me about my relatives and give me their address. I tried writing all of them, but only her and my Uncle Danny ever responded back. Those letters meant the world to me since I was alone and had nobody during that time. My sisters who I was closest to had started to move out and build their own lives. Things started getting really tough and scary at home. School life was the same as in every other place.Kids were kids and most of them were mean. Those who weren't mean didn't stop those who were. They just stood there.  Again though there are no hard or angry feelings. It was those experiences that gave me insight to understand other people and their problems. Those experiences made me strong and made me who I am now.They are also the same ones that created some of my problems. Due though to my Grandparents who were always my rock and my one stable thing always there I had a light and hope. They were the ones that reminded me God was always there.

They were my heros. They may never know or realize how much their love did for me or how grateful I was for it,but I know. I realize now how much influence all they did had on me. Granted later I made friends who also become my heros by pulling me out of my shell and by being there when I needed them. Also I had teachers who gave me confidence and told me I could be something great.Without my Grandparents, teachers, my two sisters I was closest to, and my friends I never would have made it. I would have stopped trying or worse.

It is those people who rescue us when we need rescuing the most that are our heros. They can save us from ourselves, from pain, loneliness, other people, and even circumstances. We have that ability each of us within us. You may be someone's hero and not even know it.