Maybe we don”t recognize extraordinary people because they present themselves as so, well, ordinary.
The thought occurred to me during Saturday”s Heroes of Health & Safety Fair at Lake County Fairgrounds. Law enforcement officers, healthcare providers and firefighters from around the area joined in the fun, helping kids extinguish flames, demonstrating the “jaws of life” and standing in as targets for police dog pursuits as if these thins were nothing more than everyday matters. In fact, it requires something like 250 hours of rigorous training just for the sheriff”s office to achieve K-9 certification on one dog.
And then the real work begins.
Every week I sit down with someone for a “10 Questions” session. These are, in part, intended as a bit of fun — a little insight into a person”s job, as well as some good natured jabs. Yet Over the brief run of this feature, I”ve chanced to converse with some true heroes. By that I mean men and women who sacrifice for the community and would, without question, dismiss the label and point to others they consider more worthy.
Lakeport Fire District chief Doug Hutchison is one example. When I asked him why someone would choose to rush headlong into a conflagration, into danger, into all-consuming flame he answered with a bit of a shrug. Being a firefighter was, he said, all he ever wanted in life. Had if pushed, he would have pointed to all the other firefighters around the lake who answer every bell with an equal sense of duty.
Last week I spoke with Marine Sgt. Jeffrey Atkinson, the local recruiter for the Corps. He served a couple tours in Iraq—at a safe distance from the front lines, he insisted—and jumped in wherever else the nation”s call sent him. He ended up in a less than threatening billet here in Lake County, certainly. Yet he is driven by a commitment to service and he would tell you others contribute more.
Yet both are heroes, as are the men and women they work alongside.
Over the years I”ve encountered many role models. In each case, they considered the work that brought them to my attention mundane stuff. Anyone, under the circumstances, would do the same — or so they believe. Personally I can”t picture myself dangling from a line to haul someone from a precarious ledge — although I can see myself slumped on the couch watching footage of the feat.
Back about 14 years ago, I spent a week with a country doctor in the eastern hills of Kentucky. Over a long career, he had kept his practice open 24 hours a day, every single day for a few decades. Because he had been orphaned, he treated every orphan (there were two homes in his area) free of charge. Because he considered education a way out of poverty for local children, he treated all teachers and school administrators free of charge.
But that”s not why he earned “Country Doctor of the Year” honors, back in 2000 or so. Despite approaching the age of 70, he remained the only doctor for two rural counties. In that year, he was diagnosed with cancer. Instead of moaning about the 90 minute round trip for chemotherapy, he simply schedule patients around his treatment. He never missed a day of work.
Oh, and he considered this level of commitment to his forgotten, backwater community little more than basic common sense.
Maybe these everyday heroes are right. Every time I visit an event—Heroes of Health & Safety, Kelseyville”s Pear Festival, the Lake County Wine Auction and other charity functions—I see many of the same faces.
I”m not speaking of those enjoying the fun. Nope—I mean the ones sitting behind desks, thrusting pamphlets into overstuffed purses, making sure tents go up and are put away.
Dozens of people in Lake County volunteer their time, over and over again. They give up their evenings and weekends in order to create some excitement or to spread information. A few put themselves at risk. Where others refuse to work another minute on the job without overtime payment, they volunteer hours without compensation.
Like Hutchison, like Sgt. Atkinson, like the first responders and country doctors and all others driven by a sense of duty, they would merely shrug when asked about the burden.
They consider it an everyday thing.
