After spending a great deal of time over the past few years (and a dozen or so more mandated in my youth) examining the great pantheon of American "heroes," I have come to the conclusion that all of them were really over-rated. Perhaps, "over-rated" is too strong; "gold-plated-over-genuine-aluminum" would seem to be a more apt phrase. This does not make our teachers or published historians charlatans or deceivers, generally speaking in any case. What it does do, personally, is instill in me more appreciation for the great Americans. For me, they have become human and not statues of marble or granite. As such, I find them more sympathetic, more understandable and more, well, like the rest of us.

I am completely cognizant, as I write these words, that this may be a "minority opinion." But, to further clarify - a modicum of "truth in advertising," if you will - allow me to submit the following testimony:

- It must be admitted, I am, by nature, a devout cynic and not at all convinced of the perfectibility of man, either by the intervention of government or religion.
- In this repose, I am quite able to hold some historical figures in varying degrees of personal esteem, if not awe, and deeply acknowledge their contributions to American history and progress. For instance, I am perfectly able to appreciate the stick-to-it-tive-ness of Washington, the uncompromising principles of Adams and the vision of Jefferson without placing any of them on Mount Olympus.
- Presenting certain historical figures as "heroes," particularly to the young and uninitiated - if not absolutely required for the development of sense of national pride - is, by the same token, not necessarily a bad thing when tempered with unvarnished and unadorned truth and a decided lack of patriotic humbug and national bias.

Having exposed these personal truisms, I do believe that the truth is always better than a lie. And this holds in all things and, in this, I do not hold to the concept of "situational ethics." Clearly, I do not believe that all purported exposes - such as the one recently published positing that Lincoln was, in fact, a homosexual - serve the purpose of diffusing truth. I believe that bold, fact-based and thoroughly truthful examinations of our national eminences is best. It serves, if nothing else, to show that even flawed men can give great service to their fellow citizens, their nation and the cause of liberty. With this flag of truth firmly planted in our national consciousness, we can better understand that heroism lives in each of us and is not rationed out to a chosen few

It may be argued that children, indoctrinated with the fantasy of the infallible and unblemished icon, may be better able to envision the national ideals of greatness, self-sacrifice and bravery. This is altogether fitting and proper. This, in the mind of the impressionable, can bring light to the imagination and dreams of greatness and exceptionalism. None of that is not a bad thing and I will not argue that it is so here. Idealism is useful to instruct the young and can, in limited portions, feed the instinctive human need to have heroes.

However, as we become adults, it is time for another sort of understanding. We need to be reminded as we, personally, stumble through our lives and make mistakes followed by missteps and followed by bad decisions, that even those who are "heroes" were prone to the same human foibles. For when we see that even those universally hailed as "great men" had their own flawed characters, we can appreciate that to fail is decidedly human. Failure is not just ours to personally lament and regret but is part and parcel of every human life, the great and the not-so-great. When that is accepted, we can accept that what makes men "great" is not that they, by specials gifts, were able to avoid mistakes and misjudgments but, rather, that they did not succumb to them. They refused to be defeated by their humanness, if you will. That is where greatest abides.

Let us remove our frosty lenses for a moment and state some "inconvenient truths" about our national pantheon:

Washington knew more profanity than scripture, had his own still, was an exuberant land speculator, married (principally) to increase his social status and was thoroughly convinced that the "common American" was a force to be held closely in check and watched with a cautious eye. Adams held the "mob" in downright disdain and honestly believed that what would save government from the "great unwashed" was a British-like aristocracy, composed of high-born men of breeding and cultured tastes without which, he was convinced, America was doomed to despotism. Jefferson put the "hypo" into hypocrite: he speechified of the dignity of the yeoman farmer but held these very people in contempt, he publically decried slavery but slept with Sally Hemmings and never released a single slave (even at his death), and he professed to despise the British while going bankrupt buying everything he could beg, borrow or steal from English merchants. Perhaps, most telling, while he wrote (actually, plagiarized) the immortal words "all men are created equal" but privately wrote to Adams (in 1813) that: "I agree with you that there is a natural aristocracy among men. The grounds of this are virtue and talent." So much for Jefferson’s egalitarianism.

One could dissect the remaining assemblage of American immortals with similar scrutiny and, universally, find the same weaknesses, idiocy, hypocrisy and, well, "human-ness." Lincoln was no more "the great emancipator" than Pharaoh; he issued the Emancipation Proclamation as nothing more than a well-timed political maneuver and, even then, only freed the slaves in the Confederate states, not those states that remained loyal to the Union. He believed that the only workable solution to the slavery issue was to deport all the blacks to Africa. Frederick Douglas and other free blacks of the time told him, resoundingly, "no way, Mr. President." But Lincoln never abandoned his plan. For what it’s worth, Lincoln did write the best 272 word speech - hands down - in the history of politics. Teddy Roosevelt assumed the personae of "trust buster" because he saw the popularity of William Jennings Bryan building in the Midwest and, rightly, calculated that if he was seen as bringing down "big business," he would get more votes from the growing hoard working stiffs. As is often the case in our selective amnesia, his successor, William Howard Taft did most of the heavy lifting but, historically, Teddy got the lasting glory. Franklin Delano Roosevelt, despite being laid low by polio, was a wonderful communicator andwent on to be one of the most esteemed (he is constantly ranked in the top five in most every poll) Presidents of the 20^th Century. He was also an inveterate beguiler, a steamroller for "big government," a demagogue who played to the fears of the common citizen and a thoroughly incompetent diplomat (he actually believed that British imperialism was worse than Stalin’s communism). John Kennedy was a born and bred politician with a rich, ambitious, thoroughly-crooked father, a handsome face and a beautiful wife and family. That said, he accomplished absolutely nothing substantial as our 35^th President (save set the hook originally cast by Eisenhower leading to 12 more years of U.S. involvement in Viet Nam). JFK assumed the heroic status he enjoys today simply because he made lovely, idealistic and often inspiring speeches (written by some really skilled speech writers) and has the bad luck to be assassinated after only 1000 days in office. Lyndon Johnson, on the other hand, was not handsome, did not have a beautiful family yet accomplished 100 times more as President than his predecessor. In a twist of undeserved fate, LBJ today is hardly a hero, even in Texas. Kennedy got his face on the half-dollar and has a ld, an airport, an aircraft carrier and a NASA launch complex in Florida named after him; Johnson got a runway at the Austin airport (you can’t make that up, folks), a grove of trees on the Potomac (all 17 picturesque acres of it) and a NASA communications center (where they do the countdowns but never actually launch anything) in Houston named after him. Poor homely Lyndon will absolutely, positively never get his face on a U.S. coin. There is, after all, no crying in baseball and absolutely, positively no semblance of fairness in politics or the esteem of the American citizenry.

These are not the untidy things taught in the contemporary schools but they are fairly well accepted truths to most historians - at least those who check their agendas and biases at the door. But, traditionally, we prefer for our children (and, if truth be told, also adults) to see the world in stark contrasts: black and white, good and bad, right and wrong, Christian and "others." We hold that young minds cannot appreciate subtle hues and nuances. Perhaps, that is correct though, personally, I am not at all sure. I am lately convinced that we do our progeny no good service in convincing them that there are - or were - perfect men in the world and these rare, singularly blessed souls are what we should daily aspire to be. To do so sets a mark to aspire to that no one - not one - will ever successfully reach. And what is the effect, eventually, of that?

I am no psychologist. I do believe, however, that children are much wiser than we give them credit for being. To teach them only the neat, chocolate-covered version of history with pretty sprinkles is, in my humble opinion, a disservice to their young minds. Just as we love our children unconditionally, we should teach them that, despite mistakes and errors in judgement, humans can achieve great things. We revere our leaders with no less unconditional respect or, at least, we should. The truth is, the path to anything extraordinary may waver and become blurred and, sometimes, people may jump completely off the tracks as they blunder and careen toward achieving their goal. Our greatest leaders have done just that. That is the way of all humanity, parents and Presidents included. But, with a proper and steady compass, greatness is within the grasp of all who persevere and follow their own inner voices. It should be the goal of parents not to instill expectations of perfection but to give our children a true and unwavering sense of direction and purpose. Forewarned that they, like all great men in history, will encounter unforeseen detours and potholes and armed with the irrefutable historic truth that even the greatest of men, at times, stumble and falter, their eyes can face the uncertain world ahead with a much more realistic sense of what can be achieved and what is required to pull it off.

Yes, America perpetuated slavery but we also walked on the moon. Neither our country nor ourselves can claim to be perfect. But, hopefully, we can strive to faced the world realistically and with the knowledge that to falter is not to fail. And anyone of the human species that attempts to live an extraordinary life will (just as surely as they will, ultimately, all face death) not have a perfect, smooth and error-free journey. The sooner we learn that crucial lesson, the better prepared we will be when the storm clouds gather and the lightening crashes.

Clear-eyed realism trumps starry-eyed fantasy every time. I like knowing that old General Washington, at the Battle of Monmouth, cursed General Charles Lee for his cowardice and incompetence until, according to observers, "it shook the leaves from the trees." I also enjoy knowing that he would have been the champion of "Dancing With the Stars" (had they had such banality in the 18^th century), that he liked the attention of young ladies and that he was rarely averse to hard liquor when the situation called for it (e.g. cold weather, hot weather, bad tooth, visit of an old friend or just because he wanted to). It sure makes our first President more human than those solemn pictures we see of him in the history textbooks which make him, for all the world, that he is waiting in line at the gallows. I like my heroes like I like me coffee - unsweetened, without toppings or artificial flavoring.

But, that, gentle reader, is just my opinion.