He's just another sign holder on the corner, although he's stayed at it longer than most.
Day after day he stands there with the sign, shaking it a little to attract traffic into the cigar store in the strip mall behind him. He's Hispanic and walks with a limp; an older guy. He always has a smile for me as I ride my bicycle by him on my way to the hardware store, or coffee with a friend.
It's easy to make heroes out of military men, cops and firemen. It's easy to see the heroism when a man lands a plane full of passengers in a river in New York, saving everyone aboard. We even credit the men who dedicate themselves to a cause, helping the poor, ending slavery or just getting out the truth.
I don't know much about this man. He wears a big floppy hat against the sun and smiles at everyone. He could be the sole breadwinner or just an uncle contributing to the family income. He might even take his wages and buy a bottle and curl up somewhere for all I know.
In my hall of heroes, there's a place for men who do the right thing no matter how ordinary or little that thing may seem. They don't get the glory, they may or may not be loved and honored at home, but one aspect of masculine heroism is quietly doing your job, year after year, no matter how small or dirty.
What I do know is that he is consistent. He's been there every time I've ridden through that corner for two years.
One other thing. When he sees me coming he presses the crosswalk button for me.
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Being a Man - The Handbook
http://menhandbook.com/article.php/cigarstore