Walking the Hero’s Trail

The world is full of heroes. Not celebrities, but heroes. And we need those heroes — today more than ever.  

What’s the difference between a hero and a celebrity? That’s simple. A celebrity is just someone who has won our attention, for whatever reason. A famous face or name or number on a jersey. In the deeper context of human life and struggles, a celebrity is merely a flash in the pan. 

A hero, by contrast, is a real meal in the pan. For a hero, to my mind, is someone who faces a tough challenge and responds by reaching down inside to find the courage, persistence, or wisdom to triumph. A hero could be someone of any gender, any size or shape or color of skin, any background or culture or economic circumstance. Anyone — literally anyone — can be a hero. 

That’s because a hero is not defined by any such demographic factors. Instead, a hero is defined by inner qualities of character. Who that person is down inside. That is why heroes are often unheralded. And why the close examination of their character qualities can prove highly useful — even inspirational — to us all.

Let me back up a step. As someone who grew up in Colorado, and who never misses a chance to lace up my hiking boots and go prowling in the mountains, I tend to think of things in hiking terms. So I often consider life as a journey — as our time on the trail.

Whatever hike you may be contemplating — whether it’s in mountains, marshes, desert, or jungle — the single most important piece of equipment you can bring along is not inside your backpack. It’s not your sleeping bag, water bottle, or map. No…it’s you, yourself! For the hiker’s most essential gear is what he or she carries down inside: that person’s head, heart, and soul.

Lao-Tzu, the Chinese philosopher, said long ago that even the greatest journey begins with a single step. That is true, and worth remembering. But frankly, I would have said it differently: Every journey begins with a single person. A hiker — and whatever inner qualities he or she brings to the trail.

How do those inner qualities show themselves? By our choices. For every choice we make says something about who we are. So our individual character shapes our choices; our choices become our footsteps on the trail of life; and our footsteps become our journey. 

In my book, The Hero’s Trail, I describe several distinct kinds of hero — ranging from someone who makes a split-second decision to save another person’s life, to someone who prevails over disease or disability, to someone who enriches the community of humanity in a profound way. And in the course of studying these heroes, I take a hard look at what qualities of character make each kind of hero possible.

Seven key qualities rise to the top:

• Courage. Whether it’s Melinda Clark, a thirteen-year-old Pennsylvania girl who plunged into her family’s burning house to save her little brother; or Ruben Ortega, who bravely protected his classmates from a gunman at his San Gabriel, California high school; or Itzhak Perlman, who fought his way through childhood polio to become the virtuoso violinist he is today — courage made all the difference. As Winston Churchill defiantly declared sixty years ago during the worst Nazi bombing raids on London: “Never, never, never give up.” 

• Perseverance. This quality is about not just being committed, but about staying committed. For as long as it takes. Michaella Gallina, a teenager from Pueblo, Colorado, was troubled that children with severe physical disabilities weren’t experiencing the fun and challenge of horseback riding. So she decided to do something about it. After many false starts, and years of trying, she finally succeeded in organizing the state’s first Exceptional Rodeo.
• Faith. Whether it’s faith in God, in a higher ideal, or in one’s own self — this particular quality is often crucial. It certainly was for Prateep Hata, who grew up in one of the worst slums of Bangkok, Thailand. Prateep struggled against enormous obstacles — poverty, bigotry, and bureaucracy among them — to create a school for other children of the slums. Her reason? She had an unwavering faith in the idea that everyone, even the poorest child, deserves an education.
• Adaptability. A century ago, a six-year-old boy named Ben MacDonald wandered off his family’s farm on the plains of Alberta. A severe storm erupted…and he didn’t come back. Months went by, and Ben was given up for dead, even by his devoted parents. But it turned out that he had indeed survived — by living in a badger’s den and learning to communicate and hunt with the badger. Ben showed extraordinary adaptability, a quality that can help any of us survive the sudden storms of life.
• Moral direction. This amounts to a compass of the soul — a sense of what’s worth defending, and what’s worth seeking. You can find this quality in mythic figures such as Prometheus (who sacrificed his own freedom and happiness, the ancient Greeks believed, to give fire to humanity). And you can find it also in real life figures. One of my favorite examples is young Ruby Bridges, whose one principled act of conscience — walking straight past an angry mob and up the steps of her newly-integrated school — gave a major boost to the Civil Rights movement of the 1960’s.
• Hope. Now here is a precious quality — so precious it can literally transform a major crisis into an opportunity. That’s what happened for young Stephen Hawking, who never stopped hoping that he could somehow explore theoretical physics…even if he could barely blink his eyelids because of his degenerative nervous disease. Today, he explores the far reaches of the universe as the Isaac Newton Professor at Cambridge University.
• Humor. Too often underrated, this quality can be essential to survive a difficult time. Just ask Abraham Lincoln. Once, during the Civil War, when Lincoln was laboring mightily to hold together the Union, a political opponent called him “two-faced.” Without missing a beat, Lincoln replied with a wry grin: “Oh, come now. If I really did have two faces, do you think I’d still go around wearing this one?”

Thanks to all the biographies I read as a kid (as well as all the time I spent outdoors), I’ve long been fascinated with heroic people. What really makes them tick. No doubt that interest has also led me to write so many books about heroic young people — whether it’s Kate Gordon trying to save a redwood tree in The Ancient One or the helpless boy who washes ashore at the start of The Lost Years of Merlin and ultimately becomes the greatest wizard of all time. But the very best examples of heroism, I’ve concluded, are not fictional. They are entirely real.

Consider these three examples:

Wilma Rudolph. 

This girl was born the twentieth kid of a very poor, African- American family in Tennessee. It was the 1940’s; racial discrimination was still the norm. Her mother supported everyone by washing white people’s clothes. Then Wilma was struck by polio. And on top of that, pneumonia. She lived, but her legs were limp and nearly useless. The doctor said she’s never walk again, and gave her some heavy wooden braces just so she could get around.

Now, Wilma Rudolph had every reason to call herself a victim. But she refused. She really wanted to walk! She practiced, often pushing herself so hard that she collapsed and had to be carried back into the house by her mother. But one day, when she was ten, Wilma unstrapped those braces and threw them away. And more: She started to run… and even began to win races. And in the 1960 Olympics, she won the gold medal in the 100 meter dash. Wilma Rudolph, the kid with polio, had become the fastest woman in the world.

When asked afterward how she did it, she answered simply: “My doctor told me I’d never walk again. My mama told me I would. I chose to believe Mama.”

Anne Frank. 

In the midst of some of the worst horrors of World War II, Anne’s whole family hid like frightened animals in their secret rooms in Amsterdam. They scrounged for food, fearful day and night of betrayal or capture by the Nazis — which likely meant torture, slavery, and death. And yet, even so…this girl had the courage to write this simple, ringing sentence in her diary: “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.”

Good at heart! Ultimately, Anne Frank’s words have long outlived Hitler and all his death camps. Her diary has been published in more than fifty languages, and remains one of the best-selling books of all time. All because one young person was brave enough to keep her hope alive.

Ryan Hreljac. 

A few years ago, when this boy was just six years old, he learned that children in Africa were dying because they couldn’t get clean drinking water. So he worked all summer long trying to raise the $200 that he’d been told was needed to build a water well. He washed windows, mowed lawns, raked leaves — whatever it took. And by summer’s end, Ryan had earned his $200. He marched down to the local African relief agency and dumped his money jar on the table. Then he learned some bad news: His numbers were wrong. A new well cost $2,000 dollars! All his hard work had earned him just ten percent of the total.

What did Ryan do? He went right back to work. It took him another year — and lots of window cleaner — but this boy earned the full $2,000. And thanks to him, a village in Uganda got its first clean water well.

Today, Ryan is a mature nine years old. When I spoke with him about what he’d done, he summed it up this way: “I keep telling people that if you really work hard, and you really want something, you can do anything. My mom and dad didn’t believe me before…but they sure do now.”

Ryan Hreljac (just like Michaella Gallina) is a winner of the national prize that I have founded to honor today’s heroic kids. Named after my mother, it’s called the Gloria Barron Prize for Young Heroes, and seeks to celebrate kids who have truly made a difference through their choices. There is a marvelous diversity among the winners, who range in age from eight to eighteen. And some remarkable character qualities.

Why did I name this prize after my mother? For starters, she spent twenty years creating a touchable nature museum at the Colorado School for the Deaf and Blind, so that kids who couldn’t see could still feel the size of an eagle’s wing — or touch the thick fur of a timber wolf. For her own children, watching her do that was a genuine inspiration.

But perhaps the most important reason is that few people have ever heard of Gloria Barron. I wanted this prize to be named after a woman who is neither famous nor has any desire to be famous — because most heroes fit that description. They are people most of us would not recognize on the street. But they have shown the courage or compassion to give someone else a hand — or a hug — when it’s most needed.

Any person, no matter what age or background or description, can be a hero. For every single one of us can make important choices — for ourselves, our homes, and our communities. And here is the key point: If our choices matter, then we ourselves matter.

Back before I began writing books, I managed a business. During those years, I heard an awful lot about the people economists like to call “consumers.” Trouble was, I never liked that term. For if you call people consumers, you imply that all they do (at least for the economy) is consume things: devour products, take services, and use up resources. Now that is partly true, of course — even for the most frugal and least materialistic people among us.

But that is not all that people do. Not even close! People also create things, build things, and give things to others. They invent, protect, save, celebrate, share, nurture, and inspire. And lots more, as well.

The truth is, we are more than just consumers. Much, much more. Let’s think of ourselves, instead, as creators. Of our own lives. Our own communities. And yes, our own world.

That is truly the essence of heroism. To take ourselves — our lives — seriously enough to make a mark. To leave a footprint on the trail.  And by doing that, to change the trail for those who may come after.

When we examine the heroic lives of others, we may — or may not — hear the echoes of our own aspirations. Yet this much is certain: We will hear an invitation. For a life that is a bit more thoughtful, a touch more bold. Or, you might say, for a hike — a walk on the hero’s trail.