Thinking About Integrity

This morning, I've been thinking a lot about the idea of heroes. When we're children, we have a lot of heroes. For some people, a hero may be a parent, teacher, or favorite character. For example, a child might admire a firefighter, her first grade teacher, or a superhero like Spiderman or Superman.

As we get older though, our heroes start to become tarnished. The child may learn that the firefighter isn’t that heroic or may outgrow his admiration of Superman. As adults, we assume that everyone is tarnished, everyone is flawed and we stop admiring people who aren’t “perfect.” We stop believing in the idea of heroism, and we become cynical and jaded about human nature.

I think many of us still have an idealism about what a hero should be, but real life experience teaches us that there are no heroes because a real human can’t live up to the perfect ideal. Perhaps we need to change our definition of heroism. Maybe a hero is not a person without flaws. Instead, the true hero is someone who overcomes her or his flaws when doing so matters most.

Personally, I have four people I admire greatly. Three of my heroes are fairly well-known, while I don’t know the name of my fourth hero. For those who know me well, it won't be a surprise that my four heroes are members of the gay and lesbian community. My first hero is U.S. diver and Olympic gold medalist Greg Louganis. Mr. Louganis overcame so much to accomplish his diving records, and I admire the fact that he was flawed but still great. Anyone who hasn’t read is memoir “Breaking the Surface” should buy a copy and read it.

My second hero is Col. Greta Cammermeyer, the Army nurse who challenged “Don't Ask, Don't Tell” in the early 1990s. Col. Cammermeyer served with integrity, and her suit against the Army made her the highest-ranking officer to challenge that law. She later had an unsuccessful bid for Congress. Again, those who haven’t read “Serving in Silence,” the memoir of her service, should get a copy soon.

My third hero is Mark Bingham, one of the passengers on United Flight 93. Mr. Bingham was about my age and also born in Arizona. More importantly, he was among those passengers who rushed the hijackers and kept Flight 93 from reaching its target. I should also add that I respect his mother because she didn't let the media “whitewash” his story. That is, she made sure America knew that one of its 9/11 heroes was gay. I think too many parents would have tried to hide that fact, and I admire her for being true to Mr. Bingham’s memory.

My fourth hero is a woman whose name I have never known. However, her face is seared in my mind. Following the horrific 1989 earthquake in California when two sections of the freeway collapsed onto one another like pancakes, she was regularly shown on the news walking that stretch, tears streaming down her face, searching for her “friend.” I don't know if it's true, but I've heard in the years since then that she was looking for her lost partner. Of course, no news agency would say that in 1989, and I’ve never been able to find out what her name was or for whom she was searching. Whether or not she was actually a lesbian, her devotion and her sorrow will forever haunt my memory.

These four people were not perfect. They were human, which means they made mistakes, they had flaws, and they sometimes did things that weren't admirable. What sets them apart is that when it really mattered, they were true to themselves and they faced adversity with integrity. That's a model we all should follow. I wonder how many of us would have our legacies whitewashed and “straightened up” by those we leave behind?

Reflections on The Anniversary

My memories of 9/11 revolve around fear, but not fear for myself. At the time of the attacks, we were living in Seattle and Jen worked in the Columbia Tower, the tallest building on the West Coast. We were getting ready for work and had the news on, where we heard about the Twin Towers. We headed to work, and I remember wishing Jen worked in any other location that day. She arrived at the building to find it was closed to everyone. She returned home and watched the broadcasts, while I attempted to go about my work as if nothing had happened.

I also remember, selfishly, worrying about a trip we had planned. The year 2001 marked a turning point for us. Jen had finished her bachelor's degree in 2000, and we were becoming more financially stable. The year before, we took our first real vacation as a couple. It was a trip to Tucson, our old stomping grounds, for a writers' conference and to visit my family. I didn't really attend the conference events, but we did catch up with family and revisit our favorite spots in Tucson.

In September 2001, we were scheduled to take our second couple's vacation, this time to San Francisco. Our flight was scheduled to leave Seattle the morning of September 15th, and we wondered if our trip would be canceled, due to the grounding of all commercial U.S. flights. We had already paid for our tickets, hotel and other expenses, and none of our travel plans could be canceled for a refund. Given how tight money still was for us, canceling that trip would have been a huge financial hit.

Fortunately, domestic flights resumed in time for our trip. And, somehow, we managed to get on our scheduled flight without mishap. The flight from Sea-Tac to San Francisco scheduled just before ours was canceled, because planes and crews still hadn't arrived in Seattle for all the scheduled flights. And, the flight immediately after ours was also canceled. But, our flight left without incident, although far fewer people were aboard than the airline expected.

People couldn't believe we traveled by plane only a few days after the attacks. But, when I think back on it, that trip to San Francisco was the best vacation we've ever taken. Perhaps we were more aware of our surroundings because of the attacks. Or, maybe we were simply relishing being alive, which imprinted the memories of the things we did and saw more deeply. Whatever the reason, we absorbed the atmosphere of San Francisco more thoroughly than we have any other place we've visited.

We traveled fearlessly around an unfamiliar city, walking through neighborhoods that were less-than-tourist-friendly as if we belonged there. We trekked the city's transit system, navigating it remarkably well for two people who hadn't used it before. We tried new foods, even though neither of us is usually an adventurous eater. On that trip, we experienced a new city in a spirit of discovery and joy that I've never encountered before or since. I think everyone wants to have that kind of experience when they travel, but most of us return from our vacations slightly let down, as if the trip wasn't the sensory extravaganza we had dreamt about.

Perhaps that is the true lesson I've learned from the horrors of 9/11. Each day, each moment is one to be savored, to be experienced as fully as I can. That's easier said than done, of course. But as we start a new, post-9/11 decade, I vow to consciously engage all of my senses so I can more fully experience the world around me. Each day, I will tell those I love how much they mean to me. If 9/11 has taught us nothing else, at least I've learned that tomorrow may not come.