Anakin Skywalker was a hero. The tales of his daring deeds, his fight for justice and the Republic in the Clone Wars was well-documented. Across the GFFA, everyone looked to the Jedi, to the "Hero Without Fear," to Anakin, for protection, for strength, for something good and real to believe in.

Padme looked to Anakin with the same mind as everyone else did. She knew he would use his Jedi abilities to keep the Separatists at bay, fighting for the ideals of the Republic...for good, for right...for her. She knew what his job was and knew he did it well. But what did her heart say?

I have to think that, deep down, Padme didn't want Anakin to be a hero at all, or certainly, not to be anyone's hero but hers. As it became increasingly clear that his life was in constant danger while the life growing inside her put perspective on the value of life itself, she cared less about Anakin's legend and more about his legacy. Padme didn't want Anakin to be a hero. Padme just wanted Anakin to be with her.

I think I know how she felt.

This past Sunday, February 11, a very dear family friend was killed in Iraq. Army Sgt. Russell Kurtz was a brave soldier who fought valiantly for this country and for what he believed in. Driven by his sense of duty, his belief in what was right, and love for his country, he didn't hesitate to join the army when he left high school, and once he was deployed to Iraq, he never regretted his decision. If you look up the word "hero" in any dictionary, Russell certainly lived up to the definition.

The media reports about Russell's death echo those sentiments. Despite a mistake (it was his first tour in Iraq, not his second), this TV report does Russell's life proud. This article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette describes Russell the hero as well. All of this information is accurate, but the truth is so much more complex....and it involves heroics on a different scale, if it can be considered heroics at all.

I remember the first time Russell actually set foot in our house. He'd been in the yard a few times at this point, flirting with my daughters in that girls-have-cooties kind of way, but this was different. The same age as my oldest daughter, Russell had a crush on my Allison for years (it was mutual, but don't tell Al I know that). For her 14th birthday, my husband and I let Allison have a huge, all-girl bash. It stayed that way until about 10:45PM, 15 minutes before the party was scheduled to end, when Russell and two other friends (Bob and Kevin from the video clip *****I just realized that I posted the clip from a different station that showed Bob and Zach speaking, not Bob and Kevin...my Al is in the background there, too...sorry for the confusion***), showed up outside the door. My friend, Kate, Kevin's mom, told me about being shanghaied into driving the boys past our house several times before they finally worked up the nerve to knock on the door and come in. I'll never forget that exchange. Awkward conversation and stifled giggles...talk of how Russell's birthday was the following week, the same day as Justin Timberlake's.

A few years later, BobRussandKevin...the three of them melted into one in our house soon after the 14th birthday bash...were out playing football in the rain one night. Finally, muddy and starving, they came here to chill with Al and the rest of my kids. I've never seen human beings consume as much food as they did that night...sandwiches and cereal and chips and salsa and cookies, leftovers in the fridge even...they may have even gotten into condiments at one point. I seem to recall searching for Dijon mustard shortly afterward that had mysteriously disappeared.

This past summer, while Russell was home for what would be the last time, he spent a great deal of time here at my house. In fact, he went everywhere with us during those couple of weeks, including my in-laws' 50th anniversary party. It was an intimate event, but Russell was like family, so no one questioned his presence. That night, as we toasted a marriage (something it hurts me to know that Russell will never have), Russell drank "girlie" drinks and laughed with our family as he always did, knowing a few of our family stories well enough to be in on the "in" jokes like one of my own children. He was...like one of my own children.

When Russell left for boot camp in October of 2003, he promised to keep in touch, a promise he kept until the very end. He kept it not only to his family and friends, but he kept it to me as well, and we got very close in the time since. He and I saw eye to eye on a lot of issues, particularly military and political issues, and we emailed about those issues often. This boisterous young man with his unique and hearty laugh and dry sense of humor, this high school football player who told it like it was without ever making anyone feel inferior, made this old lady, and everyone around him, feel special and loved. He had a gift for that, and I've got 84 emails that I've saved to prove it.

But was Russell a hero?

In the military sense, of course he was. He died for his country as he lived for his ideals, and in this day and age, that makes him more of a hero than most people of whom we speak as such. But the word "hero" is thrown round too casually, too carelessly. Media types use it to make a point, a trump card to boost ratings and sell papers. These people, these stern-faced reporters who delivered the tragic news of Russell's death to the masses, didn't know him. When they descend upon the church where the funeral will be held on Monday morning, they will tell their viewing and reading audiences truths about Russell's brief life and tragic death, but they won't know the truths that count. They won't know that he made my son happy because he willingly played football and basketball with him like the brother my son never had. They won't know that my seven-year-old now sleeps with the picture Russell sent her of him in his uniform because "he is an angel now," and he can "protect" her. They won't know that the way Russell always talked to my middle middle daughter like a long lost sister when he was a big shot senior football player and she was a mere freshman on the high school campus, touched her heart and gave her confidence during that difficult first high school year. They won't know that my second daughter and Russell had a little "thing" going on last summer that made him question if he was "planning to marry the wrong "B" girl." They won't know that Russell was the best friend that my oldest ever had. They won't know that his death brought my strong, quiet husband to tears. And they won't know that I feel as if I've been robbed of a son myself, a testament to Russell's own mother and father and the way they raised him.

Russell was more than a media-defined hero. He was something more valuable and important than that...a young man who reached out and touched our hearts and our lives in ways that had more meaning than just the gun he carried and the uniform he wore. I respect and admire the profession he chose and would never, ever diminish it, but I don't want the narrow definition of "hero" to diminish the beautiful person that he was.

I love you, dear boy, and I will miss you until the day I hope to join you in heaven.


Best friends forever, Kevin, silly Russell, my Allison, and Bob


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Sgt. Russell Andrew Kurtz, January 31, 1985-February 11, 2007
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