Who Is Your Hero?

Earlier this month a hero of mine passed away.

Before I share more, I’d like to reiterate the question that I’ve already asked in my title: Who is your hero? And I can’t help but ask my favorite three letter follow-up to most questions—also a favorite these days of my recently very verbal two-and-a-half-year-old: Why?

As I’ve been reminded in the past few weeks, reflecting on my hero’s life, and in turn, my own, “why?” is actually the most important question. After all, what makes someone a hero to us? Inspiration? Adulation? Emulation? Someone we might not simply like or want to be like—but someone we actually want to be or become?

Three weeks ago today the first of nearly 100 thoughtful texts and emails arrived offering condolences for the passing of Neil Peart, the drummer and lyricist of my favorite rock band, Rush. Those close to me know my passion for music, especially for playing the drums, however, Neil Peart was so much more than a phenomenal drummer. Truth be told, I nearly hesitated writing this, as so many beautiful things have been written about him in the last few weeks by so many incredibly talented writers (my favorite to date is available here).

However, it was that first text from a considerate friend that linked to the initial Rolling Stone post that captured my thoughts and reflections since. It included one of my favorite Neil Peart quotes—one that I now see in a very different light. When confronted with the inspiration, adulation, and emulation attributed to rock stars—himself included—Peart’s unflappable response: “It’s about being your own hero.”

How perfectly on the mark.

Per a previous blogpost of mine about what schooling should look like in the 21st century, I believe that there are three different kinds of learning: learning to know, learning to do, and learning to be—and that the latter is the most important in the “smart” phone age with so much knowledge literally at our fingertips. At Templeton Academy, we define learning to be as exploring the intersection of what you’re good at, what you’re passionate about, and what you think the world needs. Or put in the form of a question: What are your gifts and how can you use them in a way that brings you joy and serves others?

I believe that Neil Peart is a powerful example of someone who lived and modeled his own unique answer to this question. And in so doing, he became an inspiration for others—myself certainly included—to do the same. In short, in modeling that it’s about being your own hero, he in turn became a hero to myself and so many.

But back to the aforementioned 100 messages. Was I perhaps guilty of betraying Neil’s legacy by looking more often to him than myself as my hero? After a great deal of reflection, and a dinner last night with two other heroes of mine, I have decided that the answer is no.

Those two other heroes from dinner are actually my parents. I’m proud to say that even as they “fail retirement,” as I like to joke, they continue to use their gifts in a way that brings them joy and serves others. They are still learning. Still growing. Still helping. And though their curiosity, generosity, persistence and perspective has arguably always been what heroes have been made of, it is most certainly the stuff that lifelong learners are made of. And arguably the greatest gift that they have given me is modeling that—which is now the greatest gift I aspire to give my children.

And so, I want to thank Neil Peart, my parents, and lifelong learners everywhere for learning to be—and for being their own heroes. And I especially want to thank Neil for my new definition of what a hero is: A hero is someone who inspires us to become our own hero. Though my heart aches for Neil’s family and friends that his life and failing retirement chapter were cut short, I trust his legacy will be alive and well in them as they continue to learn to use their gifts in a way that brings them joy and serves others.

I know I will continue to try my best to do the same.