The power of quiet heroism

Indiana Gov. Frank O'Bannon died Sept. 13.\nSo did my grandpa.\nNewspapers throughout the state provided coverage of O'Bannon's death, and wire services relayed reports throughout the country. A simple obituary in the Lansing State Journal marked my grandfather's death.\nFlags flew at half-mast in honor of the governor. A folded flag was presented to my grandmother in honor of my grandfather's service in the Navy during World War II.\nThousands of people paid their respects to O'Bannon at the Statehouse Thursday, and memorial services were held in Indianapolis Friday and in Corydon Sunday. The service in Indianapolis included remarks from now-governor Joe Kernan and Sen. Evan Bayh and music from IU jazz legend David Baker and local singer-songwriter Carrie Newcomer. Perhaps a hundred friends and family attended the visitation and funeral for my grandfather, held in an ordinary funeral home. I played the organ, and my family sang "How Great Thou Art." We were probably a little off-key.\nWhen I learned that Gov. O'Bannon had passed away, I reflected on what he had done for the state of Indiana during many years of service, how his death would affect the affairs of the state and what his loss would mean to his friends and family. When I learned that my grandpa had passed away, I cried.\nI remembered doing woodcarving projects with him as a child. I remembered listening to his stories about growing up on a farm during the Great Depression, the son of Swedish immigrants. I remembered his wit, and funny things he said, such as, "We'll jump off that bridge when we come to it." I remembered my dear grandfather, a truly good and honest man.\nIn our celebrity-drenched culture, it sometimes seems that the people who "matter" most are the ones who are in the news and making the news. But it would be a tragedy if, by gazing at the stars, we failed to see the people right next to us. Most of us will never be important in the eyes of the world, but all of us matter to our loved ones more than words can express.\nTo be sure, people who make movies or news or laws are often visible, significant people who leave a mark on the world. Yet what we remember most about people is the same for both well-known people like O'Bannon and lesser-known people like my grandfather, and it is something that newspapers cannot capture: it is the essence of their personality, their character, their heart. That is what matters. That is what we miss when people depart. That is what all of us can nurture and share with those around us. \nIn addition to the obvious heroism of dramatic deeds, there is the quiet heroism of a life well-lived. And this heroism is no less transformative and no less powerful. \nAs George Eliot explains in the closing lines of her novel "Middlemarch," "The growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs."\nI'm grateful for admirable public figures past and present who, in Longfellow's famous phrase, leave "footprints on the sands of time." Yet I'm just as grateful for all the seemingly ordinary men and women whose "unhistoric acts" leave a deep impression on my heart. Never doubt the power of quiet heroism, and never doubt that you matter.