Quiet Heroes

Wildcat File Photo Arizona Daily Wildcat Brad Wallace

Like many of us, my archetypal hero was defined by television and movies, meaning that heroism and the ability to shoot guns and jump off buildings are closely correlated.

Recently, I've been realizing how rich our world is in heroes, and how few actually solve mysteries for a living.

Consider Betty at the Fig. For those of you who don't eat on Campus, Betty is the small woman with the big smile who serves mashed potatoes. Rain or shine, you can stop in and be assured that Betty will have a kind word and a plate full of the Union's finest food for you. I'm sure that her life has its share of ups and downs like the rest of us, but in the last three years, I have never seen Betty not smiling, genuinely happy to see me. Such kindness is of inestimable value to lonely students, exhausted and far from home

I would argue that Betty is the best kind of hero, quiet and unassuming, but giving so deeply of herself, always.

Another of my personal heroes is my friend Jeff. He's a U of A alumnus, who I've worked with at summer camps for the last few years. As I've mentioned in earlier columns, counseling children with AIDS and cancer is profoundly rewarding, but also incredibly draining. There was one night, when some of our youngest campers were terrified and lonely their first night at camp, and were too busy crying to even remotely consider sleeping.

By 2 a.m., I was ready to tie them to the beds, and call it quits. But not Jeff. He was in the middle of a painful divorce, working eighteen hour days, and he stayed with me until four, singing lullabies until the very last boy had dozed off. The next morning he brought me cup of coffee at dawn, and was whistling merrily to himself.

I felt like my skull had been emptied and filled with enraged weasels.

When I asked him where he found the strength to persevere, he said, "You can either lie down, or dance."

It takes incredible courage to keep dancing, especially when everything inside wants you to fall down.

My father is a quiet, soft-spoken man. He could be on this list of heroes for any number of reasons; he is in every respect, a very admirable father. Discipline in our home was always his job, and with a few minor exceptions, the worst part of "Dad's Talks" was his calm voice and patient explanations about how I'd screwed up.

Not long ago, he told me about how my grandfather used to beat him with bailing wire, sometimes nearly to unconsciousness.

My Dad is a hero - how many have let a painful and abusive childhood become a pained and abusive parenthood? His ability to overcome makes me wonder at my own luck, nearly every day.

All of us have similar stories to tell. Who doesn't have a friend who never lets them down, or hasn't had a stranger perform an unexpected kindness? You'd never know it from most of these heroes - they don't hang from the undersides of bridges and stop the terrorist bomb in just the nick of time, but they enrich our lives quietly, seeking no recognition.

So, stop by the Fig this week and enjoy some mashed potatoes, and make sure you talk to Betty, who may be lacking a gun and a Hawaiian shirt, but will nonetheless be very glad to see you.

Brad Wallace is a creative writing and molecular and cellular biology senior. His column, Handful of Dust, appears every Tuesday and he can be reached via e-mail at Brad.Wallace@wildcat.arizona.edu.