Heroes for My Son by Brad Meltzer Page A

well-told story.
    That’s what I wanted for my son.
    From there, I started looking for more heroes. I wanted to hear their stories—the ones no one knew. It made sense to me—especially 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 that’s what they did: Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild. And that’s why they finally took off.
    I loved that story. I still love that story. And that’s the kind of story I wanted my son to hear: a story that wouldn’t lecture to him, but would show him that if he was determined…if he wasn’t afraid to fail…if he had persistence (and a side order of stubbornness)…the impossible becomes possible.
    Since that time, I’ve 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 that’s what I like best. There is proof—absolute proof—everywhere. Look around at any life and you’ll 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. (I’m 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 there’d be no battling among faiths.
    You’ll 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 isn’t in here just because he wrote the Declaration of Independence. He’s in here because he didn’t publicize that fact (indeed, it didn’t 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 isn’t a book about how to be remembered—it’s 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 are—until that moment when we strive for something greater.
    In the end, I suppose there are easier ways to share life’s 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 don’t 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.
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    BRAD MELTZER
    Fort Lauderdale, Florida, 2009

— INNOVATORS —
the wright brothers
    Inventors of the world’s first flying machine.

    When it was time to try building the first flying machine, Samuel Langley had incredible resources and tens of thousands in funding. Bicycle salesmen Orville and Wilbur Wright had a flying toy their father gave them as children and a dream they refused to give up on. Guess who won?
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    E very day, they knew they’d fail.
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    Every time they’d go out to fly— every time —they brought extra materials because they knew their fledgling design would crash.
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    Crash and rebuild. Crash and rebuild.
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    But never ever, ever give up.