Jill and I have been fantasy and sci fi buffs since Asimov, LeGuinn, Omni Mag and other ways to date yourself. We are a minority. We thought the Postman short stories and even the movie were pretty cool.
We have noticed two things about heroes, and I needed to remind myself, and possibly you, about true heroes.
We noticed that heroes are increasingly, routinely, regularly expected to come back from the dead, have superpowers, run for days without rest performing at astonishing levels of tenacity and genius, and can fire guns, kick butts, and kill villains in endlessly creative ways. And they are all deeply flawed, marred souls with insurmountable things to overcome.
Real heroes are a little harder to spot. They blend in with our worlds for a very simple reason: they are the substance, the substrate on which our world has been constructed. Real heroes are consistent. I trust that they are the same person with me as with crowds, as in private. You see, we build our homes and our lives from consistent, lasting, sustainable materials and relationships. They are overcomers, but do it with an ineffable grace and pinache so you don’t even see them sweat.
Heroes are all flashy as bricks and mortar, 2×6 studs, great shingles, and insulation. They make a safe, reliable, consistent shelter from the storm, lee against the winds, warmth against the nuclear winters the world creates.
Mike was one of my heroes and he left us unexpectedly on Friday morning. So, now I have to go tell a couple of other heroes thanks for being there, thanks for being a friend — constant — because I didn’t say that to him when I almost did on a Sunday morning week before last. And now I will have to wait to say it to him personally.
Could be you need to tell one or two of yours thanks as well. Even the constant ones get yanked into eternity when you least expect it.