My mother had a crush on a deceased Australian bushman. Â She admired his life and took my sister and I to his grave (in the middle of the Australian outback) as part of our three month trek through Australia when I was 14. Â
Instead of seeing how attractive this man might or might not have been, what he could do for her or with her, noting his material possessions, or evaluating if their personalities were a perfect match; she simply evaluated the man on his reputation, accomplishments and the merit of his considerable character. Â
It has been argued that he was probably not nearly the person she had made him out to be, and that in real life he would not have garnered such affections. Â That time has a way of agrandizing people, and diminishing their faults. Â This may be true, but, as such, is all the more reason why I appreciate my mothers crush, and my own affinity for admiring the general thematic good in people (past and present) rather than focusing on the more standard material and subjective bell weather indicators.Â
Because of this I tend to see potential (realized or not) in people, people both living and gone, rather than the limitations of history. Â Potential, I believe is the fertile ground in which hope and accomplishment are grown. My mother fell in love with a deceased Australian bushman, and because of that, I fell in love with humanity.