There are extraordinary heroes in this world—soldiers, firemen, policemen, doctors, nurses, and school teachers. They are the people who give their lives away every day for the things that make their hearts sing. There are so few people in the world who really do what they love, but the extraordinary heroes must have some kind of special something in their genetic makeup that gives them the passion to take up arms and fight for their country, run into burning buildings, care for the sick and dying, put their lives on the line in a classroom full of angry youths.
Who cares for these extraordinary heroes? We all do. Even if we don’t express it in words or affection, we all appreciate the extraordinary heroes of this world, their sacrifice and their passion. They are doing the tasks the rest of us cannot or will not do.
And then there are the ordinary heroes of this world. These are the folks that don’t overcharge for their services and deliver more than what is expected. They open the door for a lady, return their shopping carts to the store, let you into traffic, stop and help you change a flat tire, drive you across town when you’ve locked your keys in the car, and help you when someone steals your purse.
The extraordinary heroes put their lives in danger every day. The ordinary heroes never expect to find themselves in harm’s way by performing the simple acts of kindness that are as commonplace to them as breathing in and out.
In early January 2008, I was writing an email to my friend and web designer, Jerry McEwen. I was halfway through that email, full of details, changes, updates and suggestions, when I realized Jerry would never get my email. Jerry died December 18, 2007—stabbed to death by an ex-con named Robert Williams outside Jerry’s neighborhood Kroger store in Nashville, Tennessee. Jerry, breathing in and out, tried to help a woman whose purse was snatched by Williams. Jerry, breathing in and out, ran after Williams because a crime was committed and someone needed help. And then Jerry breathed no more. His life was snuffed out, prematurely and tragically, while performing one of the simple acts of kindness that defined his wonderful life.
Deleting the email I started to write to Jerry reminded me of how simple it is to take a life. It’s as easy as hitting the delete key. One minute the text is there in front of your face. You’ve taken it for granted. And then it’s gone, just like that. I wonder if Robert Williams felt as cold and impartial about killing Jerry as I felt about deleting a file from my computer. But then, I reminded myself that Williams is not a human being. He’s an animal. Only an animal acts out of impulse without remorse or regard for consequences. The law means nothing to an animal. An animal doesn’t think about who will be left behind when he kills. He doesn’t count the burdensome cost of a funeral or the tears of family and friends. He doesn’t consider all of the commonplace acts of kindness that will never again be performed by the one he kills. He is oblivious to the fact that the world will have one less ordinary hero because of his selfishness. But animals are selfish that way. And you can’t make a man out of an animal—but you can make an animal out of a man.
There was a time in Robert Williams’s life when he was, of course, a child. He played ball, climbed a tree, went to school, got a hug, grew up, fell in love, had dreams and hopes for his future. There was a time when he was very human and felt his emotions very deeply. Williams could have easily grown up and become an ordinary hero of this world. In fact, he could have easily become one of the extraordinary heroes of this world. Being close to the same age, it’s even possible that Jerry and Robert Williams might have played together as kids, grown up together, been best friends, neighbors, coworkers. Jerry was the kind of person that would have made friends easily with Williams. If Williams had had more people in his life like the Jerry McEwens of the world, how different might his life have been? Where would he be, rather than sitting in a jail cell waiting to hear if he lives his life in prison or dies for the murder he committed?
One of the few things we do have in common with animals is that we emulate what we see. We imitate behaviors. Williams could have grown up watching Jerry McEwen help his neighbors with their yard work, carry an elderly man’s groceries to the car, take care of his aging mother, be a successful and trustworthy businessman, a good and faithful friend, son, brother. Oh, if only there could be a Jerry McEwen in the life of every Robert Williams. What a different world we’d live in. We’d all be heroes. Extraordinary and ordinary, we’d all be heroes.
I miss Jerry every day. The world was a more interesting and beautiful place with him in it. But he left his mark on many people and many things that will last many lifetimes. The ripple effect of his ordinary heroism will never be forgotten and it reminds me that I can honor his memory by becoming a little more like him every day.
