The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good (Samuel Johnson).

Is the true measure of a man that of a quiet hero?

Bermuda has had her share of local heroes, icons of courage in the face of great adversity. Revisiting the Bermuda Maritime Museum, I feel a huge emotional impact in the Bermuda War Exhibits rooms.

This tiny community sent so many men (and women) off to fight oppression, injustice, and evil. It was not even our war, yet so many went so willingly.

Sit in the church-like bunker on recycled church pews and witness the living history video of these elderly Bermudian survivors as they tell us matter-of-factly of their horrendous experiences during midst of battles.

To see collections of precious memories from Bermudian families; to see (and read) war-time-terse notifications sent to relatives of deaths in the line of duty.

These touching telegraphs, creased and brown with age, so lovingly preserved, so that a soldier so dear to a Bermudian family would not be forgotten, that he would not have died unnoticed or in vain.

Is the measure of a man being movie star handsome?

For our older generation, Roy Rogers, (and his horse Trigger) was the epitome of the moral fibre, the strong silent cowboy of the old West.

A humble farm boy, he ultimately became famous by making movies and singing songs.

It was not always so easy; his early jobs were spent in shoe factories, driving trucks, and working as a farm labourer.

A superb athlete, hard physical demanding jobs can have that side effect, he had to learn to ride a horse (and the art of the pistol quick draw) in order to be an authentic cowboy.

In their real lives, Roy and his wife Dale devoted themselves (and their fortune) to severely abused and neglected children, adopting four into their family of nine.

Undeterred by wealth or privilege, tragedy is an indiscriminate voter; they lost three of these dear children in childhood. They are gone but their philanthropy Happy Trails Children's Foundation lives on, the defender of those who cannot defend themselves.

Is the measure of a man having a conscience?

Mr. Rogers entered our neighbourhood and our living room on TV in 1969.

Fred Rogers was a thin shy man with a red sweater, slippers and calm reassuring voice.

A friend used to say that he moved so slow, he had to be on full-time tranquilizers.

Will I ever forget my children sitting quietly in front of the TV as he caringly assured them that it was OK to be afraid of the dark? And that Daddy's were there to protect them and that one day you would be a Dad, too, and take care of your child.

We tend to look back on those days as sweet innocence.

Fred remembered exactly what it was like to be a child; the tremendous anxiety when we understood that people die, that maybe even our might parents die, and you might be left entirely alone; or the fear and confusion learning to socialise with other children; or the sadness when parents divorce; and the anger and frustration from just trying to grow up.

Made very famous by the not really unkind parodies of Eddie Murphy on Saturday Night Live, Fred advanced his communication agenda with children, unperturbed by those who dismissed him as a dorky, boring and nerd.

Fred was an ordained minister, committed to children's welfare, their place in the family and their future role in society. He left us this year leaving behind a legacy of 30 years of family communication skills, permanently embedded in our global culture.

Is the measure of a man being a financial and business success?

In an economic world, men (and women) are evaluated on their performance.

How can they not be? Successful businesses create jobs and drive the economy. Successful businesses give back to communities through financial support and charitable foundations.

But how are we measuring ourselves?

Today, our peer performance reinforces our self-worth and self-image and how we measure others. Have we have come to value ourselves based on accomplishments only, not on our worth as a human beings?

Does it matter the road we take to achieve that success, as long as we are prosperous?

Should we measure ourselves by the size of our investment portfolios, what kind of cars we drive, what size of homes we live in, and what kind of toys we own?

Is it true that no matter how much is attained, it may never be enough to satisfy personal pride?

Is real success measured by becoming a hero to someone else, by being a role model, by caring for those too young and too vulnerable to fend for themselves, by giving hope to those who have none.

Quietly, efficiently without accolades, just doing what has to be done,

So, how do we measure a man?

Perhaps not at all by what he has, what he has earned, his stature in the community, how intelligent he is, how good looking his appearance, but rather by what is found within his heart.

Look around you.

How many everyday heroes do you know?

How many men have quietly gone about their business, supporting a family, sometimes two or three families without much complaining, with humour, grace and dignity?

Tell every single one of these men, whether they be fathers, brothers, uncles, nephews, friends, or not even near relatives, that you are proud of them. They did what had to be done, the right thing. They all epitomise 'the true measure of a man."

Happy Father's Day, my dear husband, my Daddy, my son, son-in-law, and to all those fathers present and counted for and to those gone before.

•For further father's day and holiday reading try "The Measure of a Man: A Spiritual Autobiography" by Sidney Poitier. In this wonderful memoir, an American icon looks back on his celebrated life and career.