I was reading my daughter’s blog (http://www.journeywithd.com/2013/07/15/till-we-meet-again/) this morning. It was a recap of her two week vacation to New York.

I re-lived her experiences with her siblings and nieces and nephews, both here and in Massachusetts. Then I shuttered in incredulity as she penned the following words …

“And we can’t forget about the best part – just hanging out with daddy. We chatted at the table, in between loud bursts of children playing, at the baseball game that only he and I were excited about, or on the long drive to Massachusetts. I adore this man – my hero in so many ways!”

“My hero” No, no, no. That’s too high a bar for me.

I love my children. But I don’t want to be their hero. I’m satisfied with being their dad and knowing I did the best I could. As I humbly state in my blog profile, “I’m [just] the ordinary Joe walking along this journey called life and sharing it with you!”

Merriam Webster defines hero as “a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability; an illustrious warrior; a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities; one who shows great courage; the principal male character in a literary or dramatic work; the central figure in an event, period, or movement; and an object of extreme admiration and devotion — idol.”

That’s not me. I have no unique ability. My achievements are meager. I’m no idol, nor should I be.

I look around and see so many other people who are true heroes, doing heroic things, putting their lives on the line so I can live mine. I’m not in their league.

Quite honestly, I am lost without my true hero. Karen was not only my wife for 40 years, but she was the proverbial wind beneath my wings. And as my life song states, The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me,

If anyone should ever write my life story
For whatever reason there might be
You’ll be there between each line of pain and glory
‘Cause you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.

She knew how to lift me up when I was down. And, conversely, she knew how to gently — and sometime no so gently — knock me down a peg or two when I got too cocky. She was my rudder, guiding me to the safe harbor where my Anchor rests.

She was the hero of the family. I’m just here enjoying the ride.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: More people are run down by gossip than by automobiles.