Brad Meltzer - Heroes for My Son

I was stuck at a red light. It wasnt a particularly long light. But I remember the moment because it was dark and it was quietthe first moment of quiet on the day my son Jonas was born.

And there I was, stuck at this red light.

It was one of those moments where you sit outside your bodylike your first kiss, or that first time someone in your family diesand youre looking down, knowing that the moment is so personally vital that the only way to comprehend it is to witness it from somewhere else.

So as I sat there, gripping the steering wheel of our little banged-up car, I remember looking up at the crisp black sky and thinking about this baby boy we were just blessed with. Thats when it hit meand when I asked myself the question for the very first time: what kind of man did I want my son to be?

I have three children now. Ive long since realized I have little say in the matter.

But I still love that moment. That pure, beautiful moment where you get to think about your newborn child and every door and every possibility is just waiting there, perfectly open. You can dream as big as you want in that moment. That baby of yours may be the future president of the United States, or a creative genius, or a big thinker, or, best yet, the kind of person who leaves the world better than he found it.

Its a moment where there are no limits or detours or any of the restrictions that reality eventually brings. And it was in that moment of unbridled love and pure navet that this book was born.

I decided right there that Id write this book over the course of my sons lifethat Id fill it with advice and good ideas. I started that very night, writing the instructions he needed to be a good man:

• 1. Love God.
• 2. Be nice to the fat kid in class.

The plan was that Id add more ideas throughout his lifetime, and then one day, when he was older, hed thank me, realizing what a brilliant father I was. (Id assumed Cat Stevens would be playing in the background. Norman Rockwell would of course be resurrected to paint the moment.)

It was the day my son was born. Im allowed mushy.

And so, on that day, I began this book.

Of course it was crap.

Sure, there was some good advice in there. But most of it was just sentimental manurethe ramblings of someone who clearly had never been a parent. I mean, did I really think that if I said, Be good, my son would be good ?

So I started thinking about my own life: Where did I learn kindness? Who taught me about the benefits of patience? I didnt have to look far. Sure, my mom and dad had laid the foundation. But when I thought of my first real hero, the person who came to mind was my grandfather, Ben Rubin.

When I was little, my grandfather knew I loved hearing Batman stories, so hed always tell me this one story that went like this: Batman and Robin were in the Batmobile. And they were riding along the edge of a curving cliff. And up ahead of them was a white van, which held the Joker, the Penguin, the Riddler, and Catwoman. And as they drove along this cliff, Batman and Robin caught them .

Thats when Id look him right in the eyes and whisper, Tell it again.

Hed smile at me and say, Batman and Robin were in the Batmobile. And they were riding along the edge of a curving cliff.

And when it was done, Id say, Tell it again.

And he would.

It was the same story every time. Just four sentences long. Batman and Robin were in the Batmobile . But he told me this story over and over simply because he knew I loved hearing it.

Thats a hero to me.

In that action, he taught me about love and compassion and dedication. He taught me the power of creativity. He opened the first window of my imagination. And most of all, as I look back on it, he showed me the true impact of a well-told story.

Thats what I wanted for my son.

From there, I started looking for more heroes. I wanted to hear their storiesthe ones no one knew. It made sense to meespecially since, as a parent, I know that the only lesson we ever teach is the one that comes from example.

One of the first stories I heard was about the Wright brothers. A friend told me that every day when Orville and Wilbur Wright went out to fly their plane, they would bring enough materials for multiple crashes. That way, when they crashed, they could rebuild the plane and try again. Think about it a moment: every time they went out every time they knew they were going to fail. But thats what they did: Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. And thats why they finally took off.

I loved that story. I still love that story. And thats the kind of story I wanted my son to hear: a story that wouldnt lecture to him, but would show him that if he was determinedif he wasnt afraid to failif he had persistence (and a side order of stubbornness)the impossible becomes possible.

Since that time, Ive been collecting heroes and their stories for my son. (Though of course, every hero in here is heroic for both boys and girls alike. Every single one.) There are thousands of heroes. And I think thats what I like best. There is proofabsolute proofeverywhere. Look around at any life and youll find examples of charity and honesty, leadership and humility, tenacity and dignity. These are the tools I want my son to have. And the tools I want my daughter, Lila, to have. (Im already working on her book.) Indeed, as this book got started, it became triply important: my younger son, Theo, was born. I want these tools for Theo too.

Does that mean every hero in the world is in here? Of course not. I purposely left out most religious leaders so thered be no battling among faiths.

Youll see heroes you know, like Jim Henson and Eleanor Roosevelt. There are others who are not as well known, like Frank Shankwitz and Barbara Johns. And there are others who seem almost ridiculously obvious, like George Washington and Rosa Parks. But to be clear, this is not a book about fame. Thomas Jefferson isnt in here just because he wrote the Declaration of Independence. Hes in here because he didnt publicize that fact (indeed, it didnt become common knowledge that he was the author until years after he was president), showing the kind of modesty that I want my sons to know about.

This isnt a book about how to be rememberedits a book about how we live our lives, and what we are capable of on our very best days.

Is that schmaltzy and naive? I hope so. Because I want my sons to learn those things too.

We all are who we areuntil that moment when we strive for something greater.

In the end, I suppose there are easier ways to share lifes most valuable lessons with my sons. There were moments when I thought about doing it Mr. Miyagi style and teaching it through karate. But I dont know karate. And so I do the only thing I know how to do: I tell a story. Just like my grandfather taught me all those years ago.

BRAD MELTZER

Fort Lauderdale, Florida, 2009

Inventors of the worlds first flying machine.