Heroes are born overnight.

As we watch them grow they supply our minds with dreams and our hearts with images of hope. As a society, Americans collectively become more and more attached to our heroes, thus we begin to feel a sense of ownership and pride at the sight of them.

In America, there is no qualification or book for becoming a hero, for as we all know, a hero can be anyone?your dad, a politician (not so common today), a teacher, an athlete, etc. Heroes are anyone who leave that ever-important, lasting impression on us that we just can?t forget.

As Americans, we begin to feel a sense of longing for our heroes, thus the separation we have from them helps these people (and yes, that is what they are) attain a larger than larger than life status. Once this status is achieved, our society will do anything it can to feel close to them?whether it be buying baseball cards or listening to speeches?for to us our heroes are invincible.

Nevertheless, all heroes die, and we are consequently left with pictures and faded images of them, usually stuffed away in boxes or drawers to find one distant day. But when these images are uncovered, so again returns our sense of pride and love for our fallen hero. And even more coveted than the status of a hero is the small place in our hearts that we reserve for legends.

Seldom ever does a living hero make the jump from hero to legend, for only when people are gone do we fully appreciate what they meant to us. The statement “heroes last a lifetime, legends never die” seems very ironic due to the fact that ninety-nine percent of legends are created by a hero dying in his or her prime. Through their untimely deaths we are left to imagine and dream of what they could have been.

Once left to our own devices, our imagination runs wild and we begin to give our fallen heroes supernatural abilities or status, and thus they make the important jump from hero to legend.

Through the unlocking of our imagination, we grow a sense of disillusionment in our minds that tells us Martin Luther King, Jr. was perfect, Babe Ruth hit a home run every time at bat, and Elvis never died. Even more ironic is the fact that Martin Luther King, Jr. was an adulterer, Babe Ruth struck out thousands of times and Elvis died of a drug addiction. Nonetheless, that humanizing information will always trail distantly in our minds behind what they have accomplished.

Another hero who has just recently attained the rank of legend is race car driver Dale Earnhardt Sr. It just so happens that he was killed Sunday after sliding into the wall on turn four of the Daytona 500. His death leaves behind 10 Winston Cup victories, four children, a wife and a decimated racing association.

Without undermining his honor, let us look objectively at the official statement made by NASCAR chairman Bill France Jr,. who stated, “NASCAR has lost its greatest driver ever, and I personally have lost a great friend.”

Though Bill France Jr. was speaking purely out of emotion, the term “greatest driver ever” is thus coined and will be etched in our minds next to the name Dale Earnhardt. The problem with the statement is that Richard Petty, a living legend, had already grasped the title “greatest ever.” (No one has ever won more car races than Petty.)

Though Earnhardt wasn?t the winningest driver ever, many would argue that he was one of those seldom-found living legends. Nonetheless, he has left the likes of Michael Jordan, Richard Petty and Wayne Gretzky and has ventured to that coveted place in our hearts that we reserve solely for “The King” and “The Babe.”

Yes, legends never die!

Joshua Wood is an undeclared student. He can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].