hero

Today I delved into my sub conscious and found a distant dream/goal that I first encountered in the eighth grade. I was reminded about a classic author and I remembered a book I read in school. I don't think it was for a class but I read it because I heard he was the best. From the moment I first picked up Dicken's "David Copperfield" I was hooked. The first page contains the best writing I had ever encountered. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show."

I was reminded of this passage when a friend told me that she was re-reading "Great Expectations". I offered that at one time Dickens was my favorite author. I lied. I just wanted the conversation to continue. Although my most favorite book IS "David Copperfield". I enjoyed Dickens style. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. " To begin my life with the beginning of my life, I record that I was born (as I have been informed and believe) on a Friday, at twelve o'clock at night. It was remarked that the clock began to strike, and I began to cry, simultaneously. " From those lines on I was hooked. I read the whole think in the fall of my freshman year in high school.

I believe now that that has been the goal of my life. To be the hero of my own life. I dare say that I am still working on it. But the successes that I have enjoyed in life thus far have been the parts of my plan that have been purposefully achieved. I have known love and lost it. I have known love and won it. I continue to savor that victory.

I have two beautiful children whose lives hold as much promise as my own life did (and still does as I am still breathing). I must admit that the children's ages now provide an immense challenge to my wife and myself as to make me think that my hero status is in terrible jeopardy. But then things happen that can change my mind in an instant. They are beautiful, smart, generous and loving kids. They will go far in this life.

Does parenting make me heroic? I don't know. At times maybe. Plucking a baby from a swimming pool before he tries to breathe under water. Yeah, I did that. My 18 month son slipped not a foot from me. I grabbed him before he even thought to breathe. He is fine. Forgotten all about it. Of course, he has had 13 years.

Or pulling splinters?, Or cleaning scrapes and cuts? Answering questions?

Helping my daughter with her school project? Does that make me heroic? Maybe. But we all do that. Homework? I don't know.

I guess I am still trying to figure out that Dickens line. "Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anyone else, these pages must show." Maybe that is what this blog is all about. I don't know. I don't know if I can be called a hero just yet. Maybe that is the struggle. Maybe I should re-read David Copperfield. I will have to clean out the garage to find it. Wish me luck.

D.