Unsung Heroes

I listen to NPR, but doom and gloom in the news (including events in Ukraine where I once lived) can depress my mood. However, the “My Unsung Hero” segment always brings joy -- short stories of someone touching another’s life in a small, but meaningful way. I strive to embrace this in daily life. For example, making sure the young woman who so positively welcomed me as a blood donor knew how much she was appreciated. 

My brother David was an unsung hero, too. A vibrant and loving retired Episcopal priest, he had the misfortune of suffering from a very aggressive cancer which recently killed him at age 71. We spoke daily on the phone in the final months, and I was struck by his positivity, including always asking about my day.   

I recently traveled to Minnesota to visit my nephew John and his family. On the plane, I noticed a familiar-looking man. He called out my name and said that he had been a Peace Corps Volunteer in Burkina Faso in 2008 when I was country director. When we disembarked, David Neil introduced his family. That was pretty special, a reminder of the connections we make and how we touch others. 

On another flight, a baby began to cry and, when he looked my way, I waved and made faces; he stopped and smiled back. I was thanked by the mother, but knew I had likely benefited as much as anyone. 

In 1963, a camp counselor who guided me up Mt. Washington was an unsung hero in my life. That first hike led to a lifetime of mountain adventures. I recently took advantage of a break from volunteering as a naturalist at the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Lakes of the Clouds hut to hike to our highest NH summit, celebrating that 60-year memory.  

I sure miss calls with my brother. My therapist Kristin told me, “It is not that grief gets smaller, but that we get bigger. There is so much beauty in the end of someone’s life.” I think she is an unsung hero, too. 

We each have an extraordinary opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives, including our own. Don’t underestimate your impact!