Yesterday morning I wrote about the extremes we go to, when it comes to celebrities. How we idolize them, put them on pedestals and treat them like heroes. Actually, we don’t just treat them like heroes. I think we believe they are heroes. Misguided as it is.
But little did I know, by last night, we’d be seeing real heroes in action. When teams representing local, state and federal law enforcement caught and captured Dzhokar Tsarmaev, one of the suspects believed to
have been responsible for the Boston bombings earlier in the week.
They didn’t know if, like his brother, he was wearing a suicide vest. They didn’t know if he was armed. They didn’t know if he had bombs or grenades. They had no idea what they were walking into, in other words. They just knew he had to be captured. Preferably alive.
Without causing more bloodshed. Without more civilian lives lost. Without more dead police officers.
And I have to admit, after they’d pulled it off, and the slow procession of fire trucks and police cars and ambulances and unmarked cars made its way through the streets of Watertown and I heard the applause, and the cheering, I felt myself tearing up. It was exactly the right thing to do. And it was the absolutely perfect time to do it.
Because they are heroes in the truest sense of the word.
Not because they’re drop dead gorgeous. Not because their films do well at the box office. Not because they can sink fifty foot putts. Not because their fastball is the fastest in the league.
No, they’re heroes, make that real heroes, because every time they leave the house, they put their lives on the line, in an effort to save ours. Every single time.
It’s just not right theirs is a thankless job.
So let’s all be sure to thank them every chance we get.