I grew up when heroes were strong, good people.  Both aspects, strength and good character were essential.  But I have discovered that strength is a more complicated concept than it seems, at first glance.

My first recall of this topic comes from a book whose author and title I don’t remember.  I can barely remember the plot.  It was something about a small group of people saving a kingdom.  One of the characters, a sorceress, who kept playing with little bits of magic.  While earthshaking events flowed around her, she might be squatting on the ground, calmly focused on playing with little bits of straw, to no discernible effect.  She turned out to be a very powerful sorceress trying to avoid the consequences of the clumsy use of force.  Her magic was strong but it came at a cost, so she tried to find the least amount of force to tip events in her favor.  I wish I could remember more, I’d like to re-read the book and find out what I missed.

I have to wonder if that sorceress and my grandmother had something in common.  My grandmother Annie could say a few gentle words and get through to my under-two brother and all my aunts and uncles.  She could get good behavior out of anyone.  Given the vigorous nature of that family, people talked about what she could do in terms of miracles.  A lot of grandparents seem to be like that.  What do they do?  I have a provisional hypothesis that they have learned how to separate force from signal in their own minds.  I’m going to have to figure out what that means.