As A Hero : My Hero

Everyone in the world has someone they look up to and want to be just like them one day. Everyone has different opinions about who a true hero is. My personal hero is my dad, David Laetzsch. My dad is my favorite person in the world because he is always there when I need him the most and I don’t know where I would be today without him. He has helped get me to the great life I have now and I am forever thankful for all he does for me. Nobody could ever compare to my father. He is the most caring, loving and genuine person I know even if he doesn’t show it sometimes, and that is why he is my hero.

A hero can teach many life lessons, morals and various other things. A hero is someone who can be seen as a role model or hope to people. A view of a hero is different to everyone. A hero can save someone from a fire, they can be there to give support or even enlighten people. My heroes may differ from another person writing this same paper. The title hero is given to people for multiple reasons.

My earliest moments of memory are of me in a bar. I never sat in that stool again after one particular night. My mom “buzz kill” came in the bar and flipped. My dad was very intoxicated, and my mom was not having it. She cursed my dad out, got in his face, and was out. Dragging me out of the bar with her I remember my dad chanting, “I’m free. I’m free”. My mom cried a lot that night. Her tears were not shed in front of me but in the shower. She would cry in that shower for a long time, and then come sleep with me. I slept with her up until the age of around 10. I would be so upset with my dad the day after he spent hours at the bar, but I always apologized to him for being mad. My mom and him had “words”, and he sobered up… kind of. There was a lot more to my dad’s alcoholism, but my mom shielded me from a majority of it. After my dad drastically changed his life, we got hella close. We bonded even more after my mom started poppin’ pills. “I’m waiting for this cough syrup to come down.” She took pain pills, sleeping pills, my grandma’s pills, my grandpa’s pills, or basically any pills she could. I didn’t understand it, I still don’t. I still think its because I wasn’t good enough for

My life began on a warm September Night in Great Falls, Montana. I was 6 pounds, 12 ounces and as much as everyone knew, I was serene. I was born into a family of mammoth size. My dad was adopted so technically I had three sets of Grandparents. I also had a brother, and several Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins. After my birth almost everyone in my family came to see me. Everyone in my family lived a matter of hours from us so it was easy for them to come. My family does have some strains now, but as far as I knew, we were content. Two weeks after I was born, my brother had to go to Spokane to have a surgery on his hip. He had fetal alcohol syndrome and that caused him to myriads of physical and mental disabilities. My parents left with my 15 year old cousin for 5 days while they were in Spokane. For the first year in my life, my parents could rarely see me. They were always back and forth with my brothers doctor appointments.

Life, occurring swift and constant. Death, occurring sudden and constant. Fate, destiny, a man's life crafted from clay, shaped by his actions, fired in a scorching oven to cleanse all impurities. Thus through this process of production, a representation of a man's legacy is left behind in the pottery he creates. To quote the rapper Drake, in his song The Motto "You only live once." this saying, apart from the cliches that hover around it, resonates inside my mind. Profound names, Profound stories, Profound achievements. Goals; what you wish to accomplish; something you are chasing after with unrelenting vigour. A life goal; to me, is the legacy one leaves on earth by the example of his life.

When the word "hero" is spoken, everyone has different thoughts. Some will think of super powers like flying and saving people from villains; while others have a certain person they know or have heard of that come to mind who have done something to make a difference in the lives of others but who is a hero to you? To answer this question you must first ask yourself what a hero is; what comes to your mind when someone says the word. When I am confronted with these questions I always have the same thoughts; smart, strong will power, and someone who stands up for what they believe is right.

Christopher Reeve, a man of many hats once said, “A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” To me, this is the true definition of a hero, and nobody fits this description better than my mother. To elaborate, I guess I will start at the beginning. My whole life, my dad worked at UPS. Yes, he was indeed a hard worker and wanted to provide us with as much as he could; however, we hardly spent any time with him. My mother stayed at home with my sister and I until we both went to grade school. She then got a job doing what she loved: teaching. She taught kindergarten at a local church program. Everything was perfect in my world. However, as they say, ignorance is bliss. Too young to see what was happening, I couldn’t see that my mother’s was anything but. I later learned that my dad had cheated on my mom many times and he constantly ridiculed her intellectual and physical state. She gave him all she had, but he took it all for granted. When I was around the age of seven, my dad suffered from a hernia and, being the rash thinker that he is, he “retired” from UPS. Or that is what my sister and I were told. In reality, my father was taking part in some detrimental extracurriculars. After failing a surprise drug test at work, he quit. If he would have sucked up his pride, and owned up to his mistakes, his employer was willing to provide the help he needed and continue to employ him. He then could have worked

Conor McGregor once said, “You might win some, you might lose some. But you go in, you challenge yourself, you become a better man, a better individual, a better fighter.” Born in the 1960’s, my dad started out as a fighter. He came nine weeks early, weighing only two pounds, and the size of a hand. He was touch and go with the 1960s limited medical care. For two months he stayed in the hospital, he never gave up. My dad stands with us today being as strong, brave, and courageous as ever. He continues to be a dad I am proud of, all while working full-time as an emergency physician with veterans, juggling two kids, and battling cancer. This is why I chose my dad, Kevin Carnahan, as my “Personal Michigan Hero”.

A Hero is someone who puts the needs of others before their own needs. Nanny sacrificed things she needed in order to provide for her seven children, her grandchild, and her husband. There would be times that Nanny wouldn't eat ensuring everyone went to bed full. My mother was sent to Nanny's house and Nanny took my mom in when she didn't have to. She had many jobs ensuring that her kids would get to have an education.

What is a hero? Let me define that for you. A hero is a person, who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities. You may not know or see it, but there is heroes in everyday life. I know, shocking right! There are heroes everywhere you go, school, work, even Walmart! You may not see them, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t there. A hero is any person who overcomes a challenge and is always there for you through thick and thin. There are a lot of things a hero can do to become or show that he/she is a hero.

What does make a hero a hero? Is it there looks? Alternatively, maybe is it their personality? However, the question is what are those essential qualities that make one a hero? Different people require different heroes to look up to or try to emulate. However, whoever it may be, they all possess certain qualities. My hero is my mother, for the reason that she is selfless, compassion, and courage. That kind of selflessness can often be premeditated, since concentrating on others' needs often winds up helping one accomplish one’s own goals. However, a heroic leader does so without any anticipation of a return. The display and concern show the care one has for others. This can often apparent itself in strong but gentle actions planned to increase the lives of others. Courage and bravery come to mind first when we think of heroism. However, it is difficult to achieve anything truly heroic unless one is up against overwhelming chances. As Nelson Mandela put it, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it." These minor acts of heroism rarely attract any notice. A true hero is always sympathetic, benevolent and shows a great deal of compassion and sympathy to those poorly or in agony. He or she keeps away judgements; that are oriented to the self and embraces an attitude that serves others.

A hero is a person that takes time out of their everyday life to help a person in need. My hero is my sister, Katie Birrenkott. She is 24 years old, graduated from college, and back in her hometown to peruse her dreams. She is a very independent person, but will always be there for anybody.

As a young child, parents take their kids to the movies and watch superhero movies, Spiderman, Batman, Superman, and the list goes on. When the word hero comes to mind, one often thinks about someone with super heat vision. Someone with the ability to fly. someone who has super strength or someone who stops the villain and saves the day. Sometimes, if the hero if super enough, they win the girl too. However, why does a superhero have to have supernatural abilities to be considered a hero? Why can’t they simply be someone who puts the need of others before their own, someone who is courageous enough to sacrifice their life for the ones they love, or someone who does good deeds out of the kindness of their hearts.

When I was five my mother finally left my father because of the drugs, alcohol and my father sexually abusing me and allowing his biker friends to also abuse me for drugs. We ended up living with my aunt and uncle’s driveway, in a camper. You know one of the 1980’s ones that went on the back of a pickup. Now I do give my mother some credit she was a hard worker, but I hardly ever saw her and was bounced around form family member to family member so she could try to provide for us, but being a single mom with five kids was tough and soon she and my aunt had gotten into a fight and we ended up in a homeless shelter in downtown

I was born and raised by my father, his name was Doradall Astorath, A half orc. My mother, I'm unsure. Never met her, never will. My father was an adventurer, a giant half-orc, nearly 7 feet tall and maybe 300 pounds. I'm 23 now I'm around 6'4 220 pounds. He was taught in the ways of a monk. He was completely serene in the face of danger and knew what kind of horrors lurked in the world. I'm not sure what made him become an adventurer but I do know before I was born he was a hermit, I'm assuming to find himself. Half-orcs have a tendency to have some kind of anger and what not within, so I completely understood when he told me. Growing up he taught me how to fight in the ways of fists, now monks had special training that I had never gone through, but he taught me how to throw strong punches and defeat many foes I may encounter with just my fists, We used special leather wrapping with metal studs that were called Caestus to deal extra damage and to have protection with our fists. But on my own I learned how to use a bow and arrow more and more each day for hunting purposes, we learned how to fight with swords and all types of weapons, but mainly caestus and bow. They were my go to choices. My father told me how to kill an animal, but the day I turned 14 he put me to the test. He took me hunting with him, He only used his fists, I was unsure how he got so good at hunting with his fists, but I brought my bow just in case. We found tracks and manure of a nearby worg, and so