Not Just Another Flesh Wound

One of my favorite individuals in all of history is Theodore Roosevelt.  He’s a favorite for so many reasons.  As a child, he suffered from a sickly body, including chronic asthma.  When the family vacationed abroad, young Teddy often had to be taken by his father to an environment away from the big cities, breathing in the cleaner, country air.  To overcome his weakened frame, he began to exercise, including taking up boxing.  He was never good, but it did not matter.  He used various forms of exercise to build up his stamina, and through that, he became healthier.  In other words, he didn’t let limitations hold him back.  This was on full display in October 1912.  While preparing to give a political speech, he was shot.  Anyone else would rush to the hospital, but not Roosevelt.  He told the crowd that he had just been shot, but intended to speak anyway, which he did…for 90 minutes!  Talk about overcoming obstacles…the man had a bullet lodged inside him, and he went ahead and gave the speech.  This was one time being a long-winded speaker saved a life. (The shot entered  his coat and tore through the 50-page speech folded inside the pocket, slowing the bullet down before it could reach the heart.)  I also admire the man because he was a progressive thinker.  Even though he was a Republican politician, he worked with all people in an attempt to make the nation better. I like too that he was visionary. He recognized early on that the country’s most beautiful scenery had to be protected from land developers.

Now, was he flawed?  Yes.  Did have shortcomings?  Absolutely.  I would have to say that my least admired moment of his life is how he reacted to, hands down, the worst day of his life.  On February 12, 1884, Roosevelt’s wife, Alice gave birth to their daughter, Alice Lee.  Two days later, Roosevelt’s life was flipped upside down when both his mother and wife died just hours apart.  It would be enough to bring anyone to their knees, including Theodore.  So, after less than four months, he left his daughter in the hands of his sister, “Bamie,” and traveled to the Dakota Territories, where he spent seven of the next twelve months ranching and hunting.  I simply cannot imagine handing my newborn child off to someone and leaving for months, but Roosevelt felt like he had to get away, to escape the sadness.  In fact, the loss of his wife was so painful for Roosevelt that he would not allow his first wife’s name to ever be spoken in his presence again.  His daughter Alice, named after her mother, would be known as “Baby Lee,” and in adulthood, as “Mrs. L.”

As humans we react to tragedy differently, and perhaps I am being somewhat judgmental of Roosevelt.  He felt that it was the best for him and little Alice Lee to leave and get away.  But the real question today is, how do we, as leaders in our respective bubbles, respond to troubles or tragedies.  When bad things happen, what do we do?  Do we stand our ground?  Do we retreat?  Do we stick our heads in the sand and ignore everything?  Do we pretend that everything is great, when it really is not?  It is often these moments that define us.  We should remember what the Psalmist wrote: “I lift up my eyes to the mountains, where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord.”

Fortunately for Roosevelt, he was a man of great courage, who stood up against corruption as a New York Assemblyman and Police Commissioner; who fought up San Juan Hill in Cuba; who envisioned protecting some of the nation’s most exquisite landscapes by creating the national park system.  And because of these moments, we might forget that the man who walked around the last six years of his life with a 32-caliber bullet inside him, once ran away.