If I had included “driving the grand marshal in a parade” on my bucket list, I would now be able to cross it off.

Saturday morning the folks behind the revived Bushnell day enlisted me—or, rather, they enlisted a car that just happens to belong to me—to haul Kenneth Taylor along the parade route. Who better to serve as grand marshal than a farmer, a lifelong resident, a member of the community.

This last is of greatest importance. Taylor was and is part of the town’s life. As we passed waiving onlookers, he pointed out his old house, the garage he built with his father, the building that once served as the telephone exchange—where, he added, the operator learned all the news she posted in Bushnell’s newspaper. He is a neighbor, a friend, a brick in the foundation of Bushnell and Kimball County.

Does that define “hero?” Quite possibly, for a hero leaves his or her mark on others. And, after all, everyone’s definition of the heroic is different.

In addition to a bucket list, we should also compile a list of people we personally admire, whether for their life’s work or for one rash action.

When I look at it, my own list--yes, I prepared one when thinking about this column--seems a bit odd. I consider Bugs Bunny a role model, for example, as well as Bogart’s Richard Blaine character from Casablanca and Eastwood’s outlaw, Josey Wales.

Fictional characters probably call into question my sense of judgment.

My true heroes are sometimes obscure. Remember Wayne Morse? The senator from Oregon always had the guts to stand up for his values and his constituents, even against his own party’s platform. Most famously he refused to vote for LBJ’s Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, allowing for greater involvement in Vietnam, because he felt it would lead to tens of thousands American deaths without resolving the problem.

From that same era, I include Hugh Thompson and Elliot Richardson. The former bravely set his helicopter down to protect civilians during the My Lai incident. The latter resigned from his position as attorney general when Nixon ordered Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox be dismissed for pursuing the investigation.

An honest, open government does not obstruct the pursuit of justice, even against its own. How often have we needed a Richardson or a Cox around since?

I’m a big fan of former St. Louis Cardinals pitcher and baseball hall of famer Bob Gibson, particularly for the remarks he made in the HBO documentary “The Curious Case of Curt Flood.”

Most people clean up their actions in retrospect. We want, after all, to appear right and noble when telling stories from the past. Speaking of Flood’s challenge to baseball’s reserve clause, binding players to their teams in perpetuity, Gibson admitted he was too afraid to publicly support his friend and teammate.

How can you not appreciate that level of honesty?

I admire Vinegar Joe Stilwell for constantly stirring the pot. When put in charge of an army during the 1941 Louisiana war games, the general launched his attack a day ahead of the schedule typed up by his superiors. He reasoned, quite accurately, that a real enemy would never broadcast its moves.

Of course, it's a different matter if my staff here at the paper show such disrespect for authority.

Generals like Francis Marion and Daniel Morgan appear high on my list, as well. During the Revolutionary War, Marion expressed his strategy this way: “we fight, get beat, rise and fight again.”

Keep it up and you can’t lose.

Morgan whipped a British force at Cowpens, trapping them in a classic double envelopment maneuver. He accomplished this by placing his army, rife with amateur militia, in a spot from which they could not easily retreat then telling the part time soldiers “give me two fires [rounds], and when you go home the old folks will love you and girls will kiss you.” Now that’s motivation.

Naturally, some famous names appear on my list. But somehow appreciation for the George Washingtons of the world seems far too easy. If we stop and look around, we may find that a life of hard work, caring for family and participating in a community can be just as heroic, if not quite so dramatic.

So driving an old farmer around Bushnell made for a day I'd happily add to any list I create.