How do you quantify a great person? How do you measure a disaster?

(How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?)

I read something that Bear Grylls said yesterday.  I’ll paraphrase as I can’t remember exactly.  The gist was that the great people in this world are the ones who had to fight for the life that they have now.  Most of the people who coasted through school, popular and clever, not striving for anything too hard - did not amount to much in later life.

It made me think.

What or who is a great person?  How do we quantify such a thing?

Is it a statesman?  A scholar?  A musician or a lawyer? A sportsman, a teacher, an engineer?  A good mother or father?  An ecologist, a technician or a farmer?

Is it someone who makes a difference?  Maybe it’s someone who is trying to save the world.  Or perhaps it’s someone who checked in on another person who needed it.

I have no idea how to measure or define a great person but I think what Bear said rings true.

If I look at the stereotypical 'cool' child at school - the achingly beautiful and talented one who effortlessly attracted friends and aced exams while simultaneously scoring centuries for the cricket team - he did not amount to anything much.  He fell into drugs and out of favour as soon as he escaped the safety of school’s aegis.  School weary of trying to protect and nurture a determined renegade breathed a sigh of relief as he slipped out of the confines of rules and regulations and away to Thailand and her promise of full moons, late nights under the stars and all the devilry that came with them.

I have heard it said again and again.  The ones that were feted at a young age.  The children that had it too easy. Money, athleticism, popularity or even academia.  They are the ones that struggle to prove themselves later on.

My children have all said to me over the years that they feel they don’t fit in. That people don’t like them. Jesse less so now but he’s navigated his way through uneven ground. It does not worry me. These years go by so fast. I remember feeling those feelings so well. I never felt as though I belonged. I didn’t ever really want to belong though. I never fit the mould properly. I wasn’t cool enough. I wasn’t clever enough. I wasn’t good at sport. But I was happy and I found my way eventually. I still have bad days - but don’t we all?

I feel that’s it’s my duty, to instil a work ethic into my children.  To give them chores.  To make them earn that crust to enable them to go on class trips or to put new shoes on their feet.  Not to provide blindly and relentlessly. Not to make life too easy for them.

It’s my duty to withhold technology and badger them to read books.  To encourage them to hang out with the other children who need a friend - who aren’t effortlessly 'cool'.  To do all the revision and get even better grades.

It’s hard though.  Because I still want them to like me!  I don’t want to be the old harridan that gives them a hard time, all the time.  It’s hard - being hard - in order to help them for later on.

And if a great person then gets a great job - say, a big one.  Like Prime Minister.  Is that then a great life?  Or is it a poisoned chalice?

I always tell the boys that I don’t care what they do - as long as they’re happy.  As long as they’re fulfilled. But they also need to support themselves.  To keep a roof over their heads.  And that is not always easy or straightforward.

I’d love to know what you think.  I think it’s important. What IS a great person? And what is not?What or who quantifies as a disaster at life?