en's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nac

Have always been struck by how loosely and generously this word has been used. After all, there are many different kinds of American heroes, some pretty obvious, other not so obvious. They come in different sizes and shapes. Ted Williams, as a baseball player, was not a hero except perhaps when he won a game in the bottom of the ninth with a hit. But as a marine pilot who served in two wars, he was. Matinee idols are not heroes; Christopher Reeve, as an actor, was not a hero, but as a living inspiration for others who were similarly disabled, he most certainly was. After he was paralyzed, his wife, Dana Reeve, devoted herself to her husband's care. The two became activists for the study of spinal-cord therapies, which led them to champion stem cell research, appearing together at the Democratic National Convention in 2004. After Christopher Reeve's death, Dana succeeded him as chairperson of the Christopher Reeve Foundation. Sadly, after a courageous battle with lung cancer, she died at age 44. Their work and spirit had proven an inspiration for many. To my way of thinking, these two lights of love were true heroes. They will be sorely missed.

Jackie Robinson was such a hero to me when I was a kid that I couldn't do anything but gawk at him in amazement. He thrilled fans with his daring base running, but far more importantly, he broke through baseball's rock-solid color barrier and, in so doing, changed the face of a nation—and he did this silently and nobly while taking terrible and cruel racial abuse. That he was a great ballplayer was simply icing on the cake. Barry Bonds is not a hero except perhaps when he wins a game in the bottom of the ninth with a tainted hit.

Betty Friedan is generally regarded as one of the founders of feminism's second wave which helped to expose the sexist underpinnings of America's post-World War II complacent prosperity. She argued that millions of American housewives found the destiny of mother and housewife stifling, repressive and even dehumanizing. She was a barrier breaker who surely qualified as a heroine. Jane Fonda chose another path of feminism and managed to achieve antihero status, if not infamy, for her trouble. People in San Francisco told Harvey Milk that no openly gay man could win political office. He ignored them and became the first openly gay man elected to any substantial political office, an extremely heroic act at the time. He was later assassinated (along with Mayor George Moscone) by Dan White. Dr. Martin Luther King and black Islamic leader Malcolm X well knew their lives could be snuffed out at any time even as they escalated their respective causes. Rosa Parks' simple act of protest galvanized a civil rights revolution in America and was a true hero. Ophra is not a hero even when she gives away cars to her audience. Matinee idol, yes. Heroine, I think not. Charlie Sifford’s steadfastness and golf smarts allowed him to break many of golf’s racial barriers and become the first black to be inducted in the World Golf Hall of Fame. By paving the way for others, he was a hero. Tiger Woods is an icon and arguably may be the greatest golfer ever, but he has yet to qualify as a hero in the true meaning of that term.

The American military personnel who hail from widely different roots but are united by patriotic courage are heroes, for they risk and sacrifice their lives to preserve freedom around the globe. To this end, soldiers and Marines of both genders now serving in Iraq are heroes. Suffice to say the heroes of our many battles and wars are too numerous to cite in this piece.

Closer to home, single parents who work multiple jobs to support their family and send their children to college are heroes, for they possess a quality of character far greater than most, which enables them to perform this truly extraordinary endeavor. The tots and young children in the oncology ward at Philadelphia Children's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nack

er, she died at age 44. Their work and spirit had proven an inspiration for many. To my way of thinking, these two lights of love were true heroes. They will be sorely missed.

Jackie Robinson was such a hero to me when I was a kid that I couldn't do anything but gawk at him in amazement. He thrilled fans with his daring base running, but far more importantly, he broke through baseball's rock-solid color barrier and, in so doing, changed the face of a nation—and he did this silently and nobly while taking terrible and cruel racial abuse. That he was a great ballplayer was simply icing on the cake. Barry Bonds is not a hero except perhaps when he wins a game in the bottom of the ninth with a tainted hit.

Betty Friedan is generally regarded as one of the founders of feminism's second wave which helped to expose the sexist underpinnings of America's post-World War II complacent prosperity. She argued that millions of American housewives found the destiny of mother and housewife stifling, repressive and even dehumanizing. She was a barrier breaker who surely qualified as a heroine. Jane Fonda chose another path of feminism and managed to achieve antihero status, if not infamy, for her trouble. People in San Francisco told Harvey Milk that no openly gay man could win political office. He ignored them and became the first openly gay man elected to any substantial political office, an extremely heroic act at the time. He was later assassinated (along with Mayor George Moscone) by Dan White. Dr. Martin Luther King and black Islamic leader Malcolm X well knew their lives could be snuffed out at any time even as they escalated their respective causes. Rosa Parks' simple act of protest galvanized a civil rights revolution in America and was a true hero. Ophra is not a hero even when she gives away cars to her audience. Matinee idol, yes. Heroine, I think not. Charlie Sifford’s steadfastness and golf smarts allowed him to break many of golf’s racial barriers and become the first black to be inducted in the World Golf Hall of Fame. By paving the way for others, he was a hero. Tiger Woods is an icon and arguably may be the greatest golfer ever, but he has yet to qualify as a hero in the true meaning of that term.

The American military personnel who hail from widely different roots but are united by patriotic courage are heroes, for they risk and sacrifice their lives to preserve freedom around the globe. To this end, soldiers and Marines of both genders now serving in Iraq are heroes. Suffice to say the heroes of our many battles and wars are too numerous to cite in this piece.

Closer to home, single parents who work multiple jobs to support their family and send their children to college are heroes, for they possess a quality of character far greater than most, which enables them to perform this truly extraordinary endeavor. The tots and young children in the oncology ward at Philadelphia Children's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nac

and housewife stifling, repressive and even dehumanizing. She was a barrier breaker who surely qualified as a heroine. Jane Fonda chose another path of feminism and managed to achieve antihero status, if not infamy, for her trouble. People in San Francisco told Harvey Milk that no openly gay man could win political office. He ignored them and became the first openly gay man elected to any substantial political office, an extremely heroic act at the time. He was later assassinated (along with Mayor George Moscone) by Dan White. Dr. Martin Luther King and black Islamic leader Malcolm X well knew their lives could be snuffed out at any time even as they escalated their respective causes. Rosa Parks' simple act of protest galvanized a civil rights revolution in America and was a true hero. Ophra is not a hero even when she gives away cars to her audience. Matinee idol, yes. Heroine, I think not. Charlie Sifford’s steadfastness and golf smarts allowed him to break many of golf’s racial barriers and become the first black to be inducted in the World Golf Hall of Fame. By paving the way for others, he was a hero. Tiger Woods is an icon and arguably may be the greatest golfer ever, but he has yet to qualify as a hero in the true meaning of that term.

The American military personnel who hail from widely different roots but are united by patriotic courage are heroes, for they risk and sacrifice their lives to preserve freedom around the globe. To this end, soldiers and Marines of both genders now serving in Iraq are heroes. Suffice to say the heroes of our many battles and wars are too numerous to cite in this piece.

Closer to home, single parents who work multiple jobs to support their family and send their children to college are heroes, for they possess a quality of character far greater than most, which enables them to perform this truly extraordinary endeavor. The tots and young children in the oncology ward at Philadelphia Children's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nac

f’s racial barriers and become the first black to be inducted in the World Golf Hall of Fame. By paving the way for others, he was a hero. Tiger Woods is an icon and arguably may be the greatest golfer ever, but he has yet to qualify as a hero in the true meaning of that term.

The American military personnel who hail from widely different roots but are united by patriotic courage are heroes, for they risk and sacrifice their lives to preserve freedom around the globe. To this end, soldiers and Marines of both genders now serving in Iraq are heroes. Suffice to say the heroes of our many battles and wars are too numerous to cite in this piece.

Closer to home, single parents who work multiple jobs to support their family and send their children to college are heroes, for they possess a quality of character far greater than most, which enables them to perform this truly extraordinary endeavor. The tots and young children in the oncology ward at Philadelphia Children's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nac

en's Hospital (or any other hospital) awaiting an infusion of platelets to combat leukemia do this with a nobility that brings tears to one's eyes. They are so very heroic as they fight for their lives.

Labor Leader Cesar Chavez, who in the 1960s became the champion of California migrant farm workers, was a hero; James Hoffa was not. One chose to give, the other took.

And lest we forget the fire fighters and police officers who went into the tower on Sept. 11 to rescue survivors, knowing they were risking their lives. Of course, 9/11 inspired any number of heroic acts, but perhaps none more than that played out on United Flight 93.

“We're going to do something,” one of the passengers told his wife during a final phone call. Then a group of strangers banded together and took on the hijackers. This much we know, they were big guys; Bingham was a 6-foot-4 rugby player; Glick, also a rugby player and judo champion; Beamer was 6 foot 1 and 200 pounds, and Nacke was a 5-foot-9, 200-pound weightlifter with a Superman tattoo on his shoulder. The last transmission recorded is someone, probably a hijacker, screaming “Get out of here. Get out of here.” Then grunting, screaming and scuffling. Then silence. (Karen Breslau, Newsweek Web ). With the furious counter-attack continuing, the aircraft crashed into an empty field in Shanksville, Penn., only 20 minutes' flying time from our nation's capital. All passengers perished. All passengers were heroes.

Until the morning of Sept. 11, heroism was something that America mostly watched in movies or read about in books. Now that Bingham, Beamer, Burnett, Nacke and all the others saved hundreds of lives, they have become real emblems of heroism.

Heroes can be men or women, black or white, gay or straight, privileged or poor, patriots or rebels, fathers or mothers, children or adults. We honor and celebrate them. They are different from the rest of us, and yet they are the same. But I believe what sets them apart is that they provide our inspiration. They demonstrate the high ideals and values that inspire us to go beyond the norm.

"Let's roll." —Final words of Todd Beamer to his fellow passengers on Flight 93