My dad was obsessed with the Battle of the Alamo, which fell in the early morning hours of March 6, 1836 – almost 189 years ago this week.
His passion for this pivotal moment in history shaped some of my earliest memories. The first time I ever traveled on a plane was when he took me to San Antonio, Texas, just to see the Alamo.
He’d guide me through every historical marker, narrating the story with the enthusiasm of a historian. After dinner, we’d walk back to the Alamo and just stand there, staring at its walls for hours. I was only 6 years old, and even then, I was intrigued – less because of the battle itself and more because of how much it meant to him.
His obsession ran deep. He owned every book ever written on the Alamo, studied every account, and took us back to San Antonio many times over the years. And if there was one night in that story that truly defined his fascination, it was the final night – the moment when the walls were breached.
For 12 long days, a small band of Texan rebels, including legendary figures like James Bowie, William B. Travis and Davy Crockett, had held off the massive Mexican army led by Gen. Santa Anna. Despite being vastly outnumbered – fewer than 200 men against thousands – not a single defender had fallen during the siege. But in the early hours of March 6, under the cover of darkness, the Mexican forces launched their final assault.
Wave after wave of soldiers stormed the mission, scaling ladders, battering gates and overwhelming the defenders with sheer numbers. In less than an hour, the Alamo was overrun. Every last Texan fighter was killed, their sacrifice becoming the rallying cry of the Texas Revolution.
“Remember the Alamo!” became more than just words – it became the battle cry of those who would go on to win Texas its independence. And for my dad and so many others, the Alamo wasn’t just history – it was a symbol of defiance, courage and an unwavering stand against impossible odds.
In the Sept. 8, 1993, issue of the Kankakee Daily Journal, my father was interviewed about the Alamo, and he said something in that article that struck a chord with me – something that transcends the Alamo itself.
Reflecting on the Alamo defenders, my father said, “Heroes are important. No human being today can hold up to the scrutiny we give them, but we need someone to emulate.”
Having someone to admire and emulate is important, especially when that person excels at something we aspire to do ourselves. It’s natural to be drawn to greatness, to want to follow in the footsteps of those who have achieved something remarkable. But that admiration can sometimes turn into idolization, and that’s where things get complicated.
I once idolized an Olympic swimmer. He was a powerhouse in the water, someone I wanted to be like. But after getting to know him, I realized that while I respected his skill, I didn’t necessarily admire his personality. And that’s when it hit me – people are just people. Even those we put on pedestals.
Great people, even those with strong moral convictions, have made mistakes. And when those mistakes come to light, they can shatter the illusion we’ve built in our minds. The question isn’t whether our heroes are perfect – they never are – but whether we can still draw inspiration from the best parts of who they were while understanding that they, too, were human.
No one is perfect, and if we expect our heroes to be, we set ourselves up for disappointment. The truth is that greatness and imperfection exist side by side. A person can make mistakes and still leave behind something worth admiring.
Maybe we’ve become too harsh on our heroes, or maybe we’ve been too unrealistic about what it means to have role models in the first place.
Admiration doesn’t require blind devotion; learning from someone’s greatness doesn’t mean ignoring their flaws. Because if perfection is the requirement for being worthy of admiration, we won’t have any heroes left at all.
Our heroes, past and present, aren’t meant to be untouchable figures. They’re reminders that even flawed people can do extraordinary things. And maybe, that means we can, too.
• Toby Moore is a Shaw Local News Network columnist, star of the Emmy-nominated film “A Separate Peace,” and CEO of CubeStream Inc. He can be reached at feedback@shawmedia.com.