I ran into a friend's son the other day in the bar side of a restaurant where I was picking up some take-out (the most amazing and addictive hot wings). He called me over just as he was ordering a pitcher of beer for himself and some friends he was expecting. The bartender asked how many glasses he wanted and he said, "um.... five" to which I added, "he wants six." He laughed and graciously poured me a beer. We chatted about personal current events. At one point he said, "Oh hey! I saw you the other night outside the movie theater. You were with a um...... a hero!" Yep. He was right. My guy is a hero. There's hardly another word to describe him. When I told him he'd been referred to as such, he said, "A hero? Why would he call me that?" See. What a hero-ish response. I really had no way of explaining it to him. He just looks like someone who rose up out of the ashes of some ancient Nordic battleground.
I've had the pleasure of waking up with this man at least 250 times now. Every single time, as I watch him get up out of bed, it still amazes me to see him proceed to put on just regular mortal clothing.
But it's not just his appearance (and humility about it) that makes him a hero. He's genuine and true and full of integrity. It's his birthday this weekend. I'm glad he was born.
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