It was one of those news stories I read with my mouth agape in total bewilderment at what we now worship in America. Steve McNair, a married football player, was killed by his girlfriend who thought he was cheating on her with another girlfriend. No mention of where his wife and two sons were when he was shot to death while he slept. Despite this, people came to his funeral service from far and near because of his fame on the football field. I stopped reading about this whole icky episode when the news turned to the fact that his wife is trying to cut his two sons by a previous relationship out of the estate.
This is what passes in America for heroes, the people our youth, especially out young men, aspire to be. Imagine what this tells them about what being a man means.
In actual fact, a real man respects the woman he marries and doesn’t make a public mockery of his vows to her. A real man knows that hitting a woman or child is no answer to any problem. A real man meets his responsibilities to his family and doesn’t relegate them to some side box in his life. A real man is not shot to death by his jealous girlfriend because he respects his commitment to his marriage too much to have a girlfriend.
Life teaches us that most of our heroes have flaws. Having some grand “fatal flaw” has been central to drama since Sophocles wrote in ancient Greece. The fatal flaw is a classic plot line that is used to explain why the hero fails, why he must suffer or why he will never be allowed to reach the heights to which he aspires. Michael Jackson is a classic example of the flawed hero. He will always have the shadow of his personal life falling across the greatness of his talent.
It seems as though in America today, we try to sweep flaws under the carpet and pretend they don’t matter. But they do. And pretending they don’t cheats our children of the truth. That truth may be that the person they idolize overcame a flaw in order to reach amazing personal goals and that is part of why he or she should be admired. Or the lesson may be that their hero’s fatal flaw kept him all too human and fallible and ultimately outshone his greatness. People try to create a wide chasm between personal and public life, pointing out that few heroes from our past could withstand today’s scrutiny. Point taken. But that doesn’t change the fact that what we seem to be telling our kids is that if you can run a ball down a field and get six points, then you can cheat on your wife, your family, your girlfriend and your god with impunity. Your athletic skill trumps all moral considerations.
I spent a good part of this past weekend listening to paeans of praise for Walter Cronkite. I met him once here in Alaska at a broadcast dinner. I was old enough to know how to act in a sophisticated manner when meeting a famous person. Yet when he turned to shake my hand, I found myself stuttering, muttering, blushing and generally making a fool of myself. You see, Walter Cronkite was one of my heroes. He lived his life on a far larger stage than most of us will ever occupy and he managed to do it with honor as a journalist, husband and father. He was married to his childhood sweetheart until her death, raised his children to be decent human beings who felt no need to strip in public while drunk in order to make some kind of statement, and died surrounded by them with no extra girlfriends in sight.
Walter Cronkite had integrity. He kept it throughout his life, no matter what the circumstances. It’s why we trusted him. It’s why we admired him.
I’m glad I had a hero I could look up to without having to avert my eyes from certain parts of his life. I wish our kids could have that same privilege. I think they would be the better for it.