What Makes a Hero?

This year, Westport and Connecticut have made national news for some not so inspiring incidents: a case of extreme bullying, a tantrum-throwing Metro-North passenger and, more recently, a mountain lion’s death by SUV. I can’t help but feel it reflects poorly on our state that the animal managed to travel somewhere between 1,500 and 2,000 miles without incident only to be done in by an SUV on the Merritt Parkway.

I don’t mean this as an indictment of the specific driver. I feel for him or her as I’ve had near misses with deer on the Merritt plenty of times (to say nothing of squirrels, chipmunks, and cats on my street). The Merritt is dark and curvy, and animals come seemingly out of nowhere. But it is unfortunate that the mountain lion’s unprecedented journey came to a premature conclusion and in Connecticut.

In a change of direction, Westport is back in the national spotlight courtesy of Staples rising senior treating life-threatening injuries in the wake of a bear attack in Alaska’s remote wilds.

Like the rest of Westport, Connecticut, and the nation (the story also ran in England's ‘The Daily Mail’), I’ve been absorbed by these events. Part of the fascination, for me anyway, is the wilderness setting. The story I jokingly tell about myself is that my version of ‘camping’ involves a hotel room overlooking Central Park (yuckity-yuck). And here are seven teenagers choosing to fend for themselves in a remote locale then enduring a vicious mauling, improvising with garbage bags and spare clothing to treat life-threatening injuries, and surviving six hours overnight on their own before being evacuated.

But besides the sensational details, the real takeaways here are the implications of Boas’ actions. As Marc Hartog—coordinator of the Westport Volunteer EMS in whose year-long program Boas participated prior to his Alaska trip—, Boas had not ridden in an ambulance or had his skills and training tested. Yet when tragedy struck, he was able not only to put abstract knowledge into practice, which in itself is an enormous leap, but did so without the medical equipment he’d been trained to rely on in life-threatening situations.

It’s entirely appropriate for those of us who become slightly unhinged in the face of traffic on the Post Road or an undesirable Little League outcome or a long line at Stop ‘n Shop to feel humbled by Boas’ abilities to maintain his composure and translate his knowledge and skills in a worst case scenario. These abilities can’t entirely be taught, and they speak to an uncomfortable truth. The only way to know, really, whether you can perform under pressure is to have to perform under pressure. Sam Boas is an extraordinary young man.

Possibly the hardest thing for parents is to let go of the children they’ve nurtured and who have been at the center of their lives and choices, to release them into the wild world. At least it feels so for me, as my son is entering the age when he wants a longer leash than perhaps I’d like to grant. (Incidentally, I’m speaking figuratively—I never put him on actual leash, much as the idea appealed to me.)

Sam Boas’ parents had the courage to release their son into a literal wild. He had the courage to go where few of us have gone or would go. As a consequence, Boas was there to help save the lives of his peers in Alaska. The culmination of his skills, training, and most of all character enabled a reunion between Joshua Berg and Samuel Gottsegen—who were most severly injured and whose conditions, as of this writing, were reported as ‘’ and ‘good’ respectively—and their parents.

It’s a lesson for us all.