I Met a Hero Today.

At the outlet mall today, I met a true hero.

I met a man with the honor, strength, and courage that even the most legendary heroes of lore would pale in comparison.

I met a man with the humility and humbleness of the greatest underdog characters in your favorite stories.

This man stood tall and proud...yet he is currently confined to a wheelchair.

His ailment came courtesy of an enemy attack. The hero rides, son in lap, in a wheelchair decorated in stickers of favorite rock bands and other statements of normalcy. Oh, and let us also notice the patch embroidered the back of his chair. The patch states that this strong, courageous, heroic, yet humble and proud hero has been awarded the Purple Heart.

I met a Purple Heart recipient.

I met and talked with a man who risked his life for me. He, like thousands others, is a parent, sibling, child, cousin, friend, and relative to many people in his life. They all put so much on the line for you and me.

This man, whose name I do not know, put his life on the line for me, a name he does not know.

So many Americans forget these people. They walk past them in a hurried rush as they have to get to the next store or meeting or where ever they are heading. They make a tight passing move round the slow-moving wheelchair, sometimes even with an audible sigh of frustration, making sure the driver of the chair on wheels knows that they have somehow inconvenienced you by simply being.

This man, with his young wife and son, were out at the outlet mall, doing what normal people take for granted. Enjoying a day in decent weather under the blanket of freedom his sacrifice helped knit. Hundreds of faces he may never see again passing by, ignorant of his sacrifice. The nameless masses taking for granted the freedoms his, and so many others', sacrifices have provided since the 1700s.

As I spoke briefly, not wanting to impose on a family day out, but long enough to make sure I let him know I was sincere, he spoke with humility and pride, decency and not a hint of pessimism. He told me he had gotten blown up and that is how his leg came to be in a full-length brace, confining him to his chair. I offered condolences and apologies, which were shrugged off, as if I were offering condolences for a bug-bite. I wished a full-recovery on his leg, to which he responded that he will probably lose the leg from mid-calf. He said it without a twinge of self-pity, fear, or negativity. It was as if he were telling me he was going to have to shave. No big deal. It happens.

Here is a young man, even younger than me, with a family, who risked life and limb, literally, for America. And he will have to pay the price of losing a large portion of his right leg. And he talks about it dismissively, showing that amazing and inspiring combination of courage and humility that can only be found in the American Soldier.

I left feeling uplifted and proud to be an American. I met the REAL soldier. Not the pranksters the media still plasters all over from Abu Garhib. Not the bold-faced lies of people like John Kerry, John Murtha and others, who have called out soldiers "terrorists" and "rapists" and "pillagers" and "murderers."

I met a real hero today. And I thanked him. I hope you will thank one of our heroes when you have the chance.