Anyone who has spent any time in my native NYC knows that
there are three major daily newspapers: The New York Times, the New
York Daily News and The New York Post. Journalists call the NYT a “broadsheet”, the News and the Post “tabloids.” Like everything else in NYC, there is a pecking
order, and a “broadsheet” is considered more respectable than a “tabloid.” So,
imagine my surprise when I discovered that it was the “tabloid” Post that published this headline on
October 4th:
Moms thank MLB prospect who shielded them from Vegas gunman
That MLB
prospect is Bowdein (“Bubba”) Derby ’12 and this is what the Post reported:
“Jori Apsit Jellison, a
California native, says Milwaukee Brewers prospect Bowdien “Bubba” Derby, 23,
saved her and a friend during Sunday’s deadly mass shooting, offering his
support and staying with them until the horror was over.”
Not only that, but Bubba and his family shared their hotel
suite with the two women until they could be safely reunited with their
families.[i]
With the recent spate of mass shootings in public places,
there has been a plethora of stories describing personal heroism in the face of
outrageous danger. We are encouraged by these stories because they express, for
us, the hope that, should we face similar circumstances, we would be similarly
inclined towards heroism. It’s easier to feel that way when the heroic act is
far removed and performed by a stranger we’ll never encounter. When the heroic
act occurs closer to home and is performed by someone well known to us, there’s
a certain sense of awe – perhaps fear - with which we greet the possibility
that we, too, would be able to respond in a similar fashion. That having been
said, we can’t ignore the fact that, when so many were fleeing the rain of
bullets, Bubba risked his own life in choosing to care for the safety of two
strangers.
As I reflect on Bubba’s act of heroism, I can’t help but
think that this moment of spontaneous reaction to the needs of another person
is not learned but ingrained in him by his family, his friends and (I hope) his
school (both La Salle and Holy Angels). I
am humbled to have been a part of his world since 2008 (and his two sisters
since 2000). Watching the three of them grow up at La Salle, I know that his
parents, Al and Julie, are the central explanation for Bubba’s behavior as a
teenager, a young adult and a hero. Because I have had the privilege of knowing
his family for the better part of two decades, I am confident in my belief that
Bubba could not not have acted any
other way on that fateful night. And yet, he readily acknowledged his own fear:
"I remember
looking in [my aunt's] eyes, and it was that look of 'Are we about to die? Is
this it for us?'"
That all-too
human fear didn’t prevent Bubba from doing what he knew he had to do; which
reminds me of Eleanor Roosevelt’s famous comment on heroism:
We do not have to
become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes
up ... discovering we have the strength to stare it down.
Bubba has had a lifetime of discovering the strength to stare
down obstacles in his path. While I’d like to think La Salle had a part to play
in that process, I am convinced now, more than ever, that, in Bubba’s exemplary
behavior that awful night, we find the true measure of the School’s success:
when our graduates have something to teach us about what is noble and, in the
end, heroic.
[i] For more info - http://nypost.com/2017/10/04/moms-thank-mlb-prospect-who-shielded-them-from-vegas-gunman/
