My hero is my father. He not only has the ability to endure the pain of all his four children when he comes home, but also the quickly changing world that surrounds us. It isn’t difficult for me and my siblings to adjust to the times because we were born into it. My father on the other hand wasn’t. The reason he is my hero is because he has a drive that compels him to get the job done. When he sits by me helping me with issues, and I give him the lame excuse of “him not understanding,” he makes it his job to research and finally, to me at least, is able to connect to what I’m feeling and get me through. This doesn’t only happen if there is a problem in my life, but also in things he is just interested in. Sometimes watching the way his brain solves the complexities of a situation astonish me. He’ll take out a pen and napkin and just start breaking it down the way he knows how. Sure there might be a better way to get to the bottom of whatever he’s working on, but it won’t bother him to learn it afterwards. The story behind him growing up was that he lived in a family seven where he had to be the responsible child. His brothers got into trouble a lot and he could bail them out, or his sisters were having issues and he could comfort them. All that aside, he, unlike me, wasn’t able to ask his parents for help. They never understood most problems he went through, and so if something needed to get better of be finished, it was up to him to learn. Granted he doesn’t have a college education, he is smarter than most people who have, because he does what he wants by learning his own way. That to me is amazing and makes me want to strive to be like him, that is why he is my hero.