When I was a young boy, I knew what I wanted to be: a hero. Like Mighty Mouse, I wanted to “save the day.” I would envision situations requiring my courageous death-defying derring-do. My reward, a hug from a grateful mother or beautiful girl. It was my favorite pre-sleep scenario.

Since 9/11 the word “hero” has been written thousands of times. In reference to firefighters, police, other rescue personnel, individuals in the buildings and the doomed planes, the designation is certainly apt.

Heroism involves sacrifice. The ultimate heroism involves risking the ultimate sacrifice. Pre-9/11, it was not uncommon to see athletes, movie and pop stars referred to as “heroes.” Thankfully, such a reference is rare today. They can be role models. They can be admired for their talent, drive and ambition. But I would classify very few of them as heroes.

Yet I believe most of us are surrounded by heroes on a daily basis. And not on our television or movie screens. Not on our playing fields or stages. I keep coming back to that word “sacrifice.” Professional athletes and media stars are well recompensed for whatever personal sacrifices they might make. Athletes risk injury. Actors risk failure. Not insignificant things, but “worth” it, considering their salaries.

I’m referring to the woman who works 10-hour shifts at a cash register, for minimum wage so her child can go to college. I’m talking about the man who puts in his monotonous 40 hours a week on a manufacturing plant line; doing the same job, day after day, week after week, year after year so his family can be provided for. I mean the spouse who puts his or her dreams on hold so someone can stay home with the kids.

Then there are the community volunteers, who sacrifice their time to comfort the sick, assist the elderly or prepare pre-school breakfasts for kids who miss out at home. Aging boomers are now often engaged in caring for elderly parents, holding up their end of the circle of life.

They are heroes.

Another characteristic aside from sacrifice that defines heroism is “courage.” Oncology wards in every hospital are populated with these heroes. They come in all shapes, sizes and age groups. Some are readily identifiable by their wigs or scarves. Some are wheelchair-bound, pale and frail. Some are ruddy with the glow of health. All are fighting a terrible foe. All exhibit courage.

They are heroes.

There’s another sub-group of people I would include in my pantheon of heroes. Those who do, or are, more than they are required to do, or be. The teacher who stays after hours to help a struggling student. The taxi driver who helps carry groceries up 2 flights of stairs, with the meter off. The sales clerk who thinks there just might be one of those items you’re looking for out back, and goes to check for you. The friend who pretends you didn’t wake him up at midnight when you want to discuss a worry.

They are heroes.

Some may argue with my definition. I didn’t check it in a dictionary before writing this. I’m comfortable with it. This way, heroism is not beyond the scope of any of us. We don’t need to rush into a burning building to save a child. We don’t need to face down an armed bank robber.

We can just do a little more. We can help another person.
We can be a better friend, a better parent or a better brother.

We can all be heroes.