20071002 My Hero Becomes Legend
20071002 My Hero Becomes Legend
W. Somerset Maugham, in the opening paragraph of "The Moon and Sixpence", notes the difference between a person made great by circumstance and an inherently great person.
I do not speak of that greatness
which is achieved by the fortunate politician or
the successful soldier; that is a quality which
belongs to the place he occupies rather than to
the man; and a change of circumstances reduces
it to very discreet proportions. The Prime Minister
out of office is seen, too often, to have been
but a pompous rhetorician, and the General without
an army is but the tame hero of a market
town. The greatness of Charles Strickland was
authentic. It may be that you do not like his art,
but at all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute
of your interest. He disturbs and arrests.
Like the fictional Charles Strickland, the greatness of the real Steve Robinson was authentic. Who else could disagree passionately with you on many fundamental issues and still like you as a person?
A gifted naturalist, orator, and musician, Steve touched and inspired many thousands of national park visitors over a 20-years+ career. As husband, father, and friend he touched many others, including me. Beyond that, I believe he influenced everyone he met. This was his greatness, his art. One could not meet Steve and remain indifferent. One could feel his power and know this was no ordinary human being. I’m not saying that Steve was perfect. He was human after all. His mortality manifested itself yesterday morning, as he peacefully left our lives physically but never spiritually.
The spirit of Steve Robinson can be found in every program I present as a park ranger. Is my style like Steve’s? Perhaps in loquaciousness we are similar and I have certainly adopted other elements of Ranger Steve, but there is no other Pied Piper of Flamingo.
Steve’s belief that what we do as interpreters can be worthwhile if we make it so—that is what permeates my work and always will. Had I not met Steve in the fall of 1998, I doubt I would still be a park ranger nine years later.
Steve encouraged me in my work early on, when I knew little of the art of interpretation and much less of the vast, complex, never wholly knowable Everglades. "You da man!" he would understatedly utter, able to use an annoying cliché without it seeming either. He was right. I am just a man. He is more.
Popular culture today seems to worship the anti-hero, a ruthless selfish sort. Whatever happened to noble heroes? They are still around. Steve Robinson is my hero, a larger-than-life embodiment of what I would hope to be, a mathematical limit approachable but never reachable. My hero, once just a great human, has now become legend.
W. Somerset Maugham, in the opening paragraph of "The Moon and Sixpence", notes the difference between a person made great by circumstance and an inherently great person.I do not speak of that greatness
which is achieved by the fortunate politician or
the successful soldier; that is a quality which
belongs to the place he occupies rather than to
the man; and a change of circumstances reduces
it to very discreet proportions. The Prime Minister
out of office is seen, too often, to have been
but a pompous rhetorician, and the General without
an army is but the tame hero of a market
town. The greatness of Charles Strickland was
authentic. It may be that you do not like his art,
but at all events you can hardly refuse it the tribute
of your interest. He disturbs and arrests.
Like the fictional Charles Strickland, the greatness of the real Steve Robinson was authentic. Who else could disagree passionately with you on many fundamental issues and still like you as a person?
A gifted naturalist, orator, and musician, Steve touched and inspired many thousands of national park visitors over a 20-years+ career. As husband, father, and friend he touched many others, including me. Beyond that, I believe he influenced everyone he met. This was his greatness, his art. One could not meet Steve and remain indifferent. One could feel his power and know this was no ordinary human being. I’m not saying that Steve was perfect. He was human after all. His mortality manifested itself yesterday morning, as he peacefully left our lives physically but never spiritually.
The spirit of Steve Robinson can be found in every program I present as a park ranger. Is my style like Steve’s? Perhaps in loquaciousness we are similar and I have certainly adopted other elements of Ranger Steve, but there is no other Pied Piper of Flamingo.
Steve’s belief that what we do as interpreters can be worthwhile if we make it so—that is what permeates my work and always will. Had I not met Steve in the fall of 1998, I doubt I would still be a park ranger nine years later.
Steve encouraged me in my work early on, when I knew little of the art of interpretation and much less of the vast, complex, never wholly knowable Everglades. "You da man!" he would understatedly utter, able to use an annoying cliché without it seeming either. He was right. I am just a man. He is more.
Popular culture today seems to worship the anti-hero, a ruthless selfish sort. Whatever happened to noble heroes? They are still around. Steve Robinson is my hero, a larger-than-life embodiment of what I would hope to be, a mathematical limit approachable but never reachable. My hero, once just a great human, has now become legend.
posted by Tim at 11:03 AM
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3 Comments:
aaawww!
How did he die? He was so young.
Tim I wish you'd consider becoming a Fan of "The Annual Steve Robinson Celebration of Life" on Facebook. We're having our first event this year on February 27 at Flamingo. It would be great to see you again.
Bill Montanari
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