There has always been something that seemed not quite right to me about the way television and movie stars are, well, worshiped might be the best word, by lots and lots of us. While I have enjoyed their work, I’ve always thought that these nice folks’ skill set is mainly about pretending to be other people. Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve dipped my own toes in this area of endeavor but coming from a family of teachers, and before that, farmers, I’ve always had, in the back of my mind, a sense that the real heroes we should seek to emulate are not those on the big or little screens in our lives, but rather in the classrooms, the ERs, the factories, the fields of America. I know that is at least impractical and perhaps even naïve, but I always looked for my personal heroes on those less famous, but far more frequently traveled, roads.

And so I want to tell you about two remarkable men, Ray Lutz and Bernie Jorgensen, who were and are true American heroes, even though you haven’t heard of them. Both men died recently, leaving holes in the lives of those who knew them but also many strong bricks in the foundation that is America.

Both men started in Iowa, as did both of my parents. Mr. Lutz eventually came to Colorado, while Bernie stayed in Iowa. My summers growing up were spent on my grandparents’ farm outside of the tiny town of Manilla, Iowa. By the time my older brother and I were old enough to summer on the farm, my grandparents had retired from active farming. They remained in the farm house but rented the land to a very nice neighbor farmer named Bernie.

One of the summer’s high points was seeing Bernie again. Bernie, ever seared into our memories in a white tee-shirt and a white ball cap, came over to our farm after working his own spread a few miles away. Bernie was cool, taking us on tractor rides and letting us tag along as he worked. I still remember the time my brother, perhaps 14, challenged Bernie to a hose fight to see who could get whom wettest. Hint: don’t challenge a farmer; they tend to be pretty strong. My brother and I would often put on our own white tee shirts and white hats, so that we could be like Bernie. He was a gentle soul, and a gentleman.

I’ve always had, in the back of my mind, a sense that the real heroes we should seek to emulate are not those on the big or little screens in our lives, but rather in the classrooms, the ERs, the factories, the fields of America.

I met Mr. Lutz (I could never bring myself to call him Ray, as he was very fatherly) when I started refereeing high school football three years ago. I guess I got so used to people yelling at me when I ran for Congress that I needed to find something to fill that void, and officiating fit perfectly. Mr. Lutz was one of the first people I met in this new world. He was a national figure in officiating across nearly every sport. He was already in several Halls of Fame, and was revered and adored. He was Will Rogers’s kind of guy – I don’t think he ever met a man he didn’t like.

Mr. Lutz refereed over 50 years, to include at the local, state and national level. He was a public schoolteacher for decades, teaching special education and more. I can easily see this gentle man connecting with kids facing challenges, because Mr. Lutz was as kind as the other Mr. Rogers and was as witty as, well, the first one.

Mr. Lutz was generous to a fault, giving new officials old gear he said he didn’t need anymore, though a lot of it looked pretty new to me. At the weekly lunch a number of us referee types attend, Mr. Lutz was legendary for tipping roughly 100 percent, which delighted the young ladies that waited on our table. I always tried to get to lunch early, because Mr. Lutz was always early, and I could have some personal time with him. I treasure those memories.

Ray Lutz and Bernie Jorgensen didn’t know it, but they were part of the true backbone of the United States. They taught America’s children, grew our food, and lived lives of honor, service, and caring that can serve as an example for all. You may not have known either gentleman, but your life was better because they lived among us. I will miss them, but I’m so glad I knew them. There were, and are, True American Heroes.