We have heard the term heroes a great deal during our current health crisis. And certainly there are heroes, particularly those who march into hospitals every day to take care of their fellow countrymen struck down by the virus. I think particularly about the nurses who have been doing their jobs day-in and day-out for years without the recognition they are now finally getting. I remember when I had my first child, someone told me my experience was going to be determined by the care I received from the nurses, which proved to be very true. They were there not only for the big moment, but for the work beforehand and the recovery afterwards.
This all has made me think about who is really a hero. Is it always someone with a cape and mask who comes in at the last moment to save the day? Or is it really the quiet, unsung people in our lives? As I thought about this, three women in my family came to mind, women who never made a headline, who never won an award, who did not play to a cheering crowd. The first is my great grandmother, a mother of three living in Texas at the turn of the century. Her husband died unexpectedly leaving her with a seven-year-old, a four-year old, and a baby . The law in Texas in those days allowed male members of the deceased husband’s family to take away the children of a widow and raise them as their own. As her relatives poised to do this, she moved to California where her rights as a mother were preserved. I cannot imagine what it was like to defy the male members of her husband’s family, move to an unknown location, and begin taking in work as a self-employed seamstress, all with three small children. But she did it, and to me it looks heroic.
Then there is my maternal grandmother, married to a Marine, who served in three of the country’s wars. He would seem the obvious hero, but my grandmother is the one who comes to mind. Resolutely moving, frequently to assignments here and abroad, raising two daughters, and managing home and family during those three wars. She is the unsung hero of that marriage. She was quiet, firm, devoted, loving, and capable. Certainly heroic qualities.
Finally, there is my paternal grandmother. After leaving a wealthy home in Chicago, in spite of her family's serious objections, to serve in the Red Cross in World War I, she married an Army aviator who died in a crash leaving her with three children under three. Then on top of the death of her husband, years later her oldest child, also an Army aviator, was killed in World War II. I remember her as unbowed by her tragedies, and ready to give all she had to her family in addition to becoming a published author. She was creative, intelligent, determined, and inventive. Another set of heroic qualities.
Perhaps in the midst of appreciating what certain members of our society are doing for us as a nation, we should look at those around us whose unnoticed lives are also an example of everyday, quiet, unappreciated heroism. They are there if we take the time to look closely.
