Just this past week, while going about my usual day-to-night-to-day business of alternating between the couch, the fridge, the bed and this here computer chair (not necessarily in that order), I acquired a new personal hero to add to my collection.
You see, I was checking my Yahoo! e-mail (because like any semi-civilized person, I have an array of e-mail accounts. Anything to further complicate and clutter my life with! Besides, I'm telling you, having to remember two-hundred different passwords is a good way to jog the old memory and keep it in shape) when I skimmed the news headlines on the Yahoo! homepage.
My eye roamed across the line-up. All the usual suspects were present: The Michael Jackson trial; the war in Iraq...
I was just about to click away from the page when I saw another headline.
Two clicks of the mouse later, and I knew that I had found myself a new hero to add to my collection.
You might scoff and say to yourself: "My, but Red sure seems to be easily impressed!"
And of course, you may think that. As long as you'll let me continue to believe that I just have a really, really good instinct for spotting greatness.
I suppose it's because I myself am so lacking in greatness and talent, that's why I'm so good at spotting it in others.
Because I'm telling you, even though it's true that I have about the same amount of heroes as I have e-mail accounts, my heroes are all very deserving of their heroic statuses.
Allow me to prove it (and then I'll gladly introduce you to my latest hero, I promise):
My dad is my hero, because at the tender age of 69, he is still an incurable dreamer. And surely that's no mean feat in this cynical world where dreams often fall by the wayside in favour of materialism? My dad definitely also ranks among the most handsome of my heroes.
My mom is my hero, because she is witty, graceful, kind and beautiful. She is also a whole slew of so many other great things that, if I should blog about her every day for the rest of my life, I'm sure I would never reach the end of the list.
And just for the record, let it be known that my parents gave none of those qualities to me! But I have no resentment, because I'm sure they didn't do it on purpose. I think they merely ran out by the time they got to me, their youngest.
Which brings me to the rest of my cast of heroes:
My eldest sis, because despite her tough but oh-so-well groomed and beautiful exterior, she's just an old softie inside. (But I still fear revere her!) We share a love for jazz, foreign films and have more or less the same warped sense of humour.
My second eldest sis, because oh-my-gosh... her intellect! Now, don't get me wrong, all my sisters are clever, witty, wise, nurturing and absolutely beautiful. This particular sister has always read anything that she could lay her hands on, though, and she seems to absorb all of it. (I suspect that she (and our dad) could be to blame for my addiction to how-to books, wouldn't you say?) And yes, her wit is as razor-sharp as her intellect.
Ah, and then there's my third and final sis: SHE is my hero because she is hard-working, yet playful. And if you ever need advice from a shrewd business woman... speak to her. Her entrepreneurial spirit rivals Martha Stewart's and Donald Trump's any day (and my sis doesn't even have a criminal record... well, eh... at least not one that I'm aware of! Oh, and she has far better hair than Trump), even though my sister limits her domesticity to her home life. She makes her money as a computer whiz and in real estate (hence the Trump reference). I got my love of dogs from her.
Collectively, they're all my heroes because they've forgiven me all my sins and shortcomings a million times over. And by golly, they still love me and believe in me.
My brothers-in-law are my heroes because they put up with the whole lot of us. (Yes, even me, in my absence.)
My little nephews are my heroes because shame, they have no choice but to put up with us! At least until they're old enough to run away.
My best friend in Botswana is my hero, because she is brave (being the first one out of the two of us to risk marriage, in-laws and motherhood) and strong.
Emotionally strong, because between the in-laws, the husband and the child, she hasn't gone completely bananas yet. (Perhaps it helped that she was already a bit bananas going into it all?) Physically strong, because despite her svelte frame, she can kick anyone's butt. (Why do you THINK I fled South Africa?!?) She understands me (or makes a noble attempt to) and I should have her know that she has spoiled me for life. Because although we've been living thousands of miles apart since 1996 and I haven't seen her since the day I left South Africa, she's never stopped being my best friend.
Man, I miss them all! In fact, I suddenly have something really annoying in my eyes, so I'm afraid the actual reason behind this post, the latest addition to my collection of heroes, will have to wait just a bit longer...
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