Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes

A hero is defined as "a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities." This definition fits no one I know better than my grandfather, Larry Holt. When I was the age of three, my parents got a divorce and this, even at such a young age, had me devastated. My mother received custody and with no where to go. Therefore, we moved in with my grandparents, Larry and Diane Holt.

While my mother was unemployed and my grandmother retired, my grandfather would wake up at five every morning. To start his day, he would feed the dogs, and be on his way to work. He would come home from a long day at work at about four, and do all of the chores that needed to be done around the farm. These chores waking up early every morning to feed the cows, water all of the plants, and feed the chickens. After all of this strenuous work, he would walk into the house everyday with his same smile and say, "Who's ready for a game of catch?"

My love of sports came from him. Everyday when he would finish what needed to be done around the farm, Papo and I would do some sort of activity involving sports, whether it be playing catch or a game of basketball. When I was five years old he signed me up for t-ball, and became head coach of my team. I was not very good at the time, so we practiced as much as we could. He would practice with me everyday, playing catch, letting me hit, and we would play just about everyday. "Keep your eye on the ball, son," he would advise. He always called me son. In fact, he made a mini baseball field with a pitcher's mound to help me get a better feel for the real field. "Keep your eye on the ball, son" or "Make sure you keep a level swing" he would advise.

He always called me son. He was the one who took care of my needs most out of everyone until I moved away with my dad. Larry treated me as if I were his son, rather than his grandson.