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