An oft-lamented refrain in these United States is that we no longer have heroes. Unlike the alleged days of yesteryear, there are few role models for our children, and even fewer for discerning adults.

In the business world, however, role models often may be found among the Fortune 500 moguls and their associates -- if, of course, you have the stomach to accept the tough decisions they do each day.

Unfortunately, my No. 1 hero in the business and financial world has been swept from his ever-so-high pedestal, at least in my mind. Whereas I once felt protected from the whims of the financial markets by his sure invisible hand, I now feel the pain of his overnight rate increases leaving trickling, bloody wounds in my back.

My Ode to Alan Greenspan has been forever silenced.

My love affair with Alan began in graduate school. During complex courses on economic theory, currency exchanges and international finance, I learned to adore his brilliant policy positions. Professors sang his praises and marveled that Republican and Democratic politicos alike revered his word.

Mr. Greenspan after all played an instrumental role in orchestrating the longest sustained economic expansion of our time. You needn't look further than the real estate industry to see the great benefits realized through job and revenue growth, technological advances and easy money.

More Americans are buying homes than ever before. Companies are putting up their own buildings. And despite the new development, true economic advancements have kept occupancies high and rents steadily growing.

But beyond the positive effects I witnessed in the real estate community, I fell for Alan because he made such a difference in my every day life. By gradually lowering interest rates commensurate with safe, inflation-free growth, Alan allowed me to buy my first house. He made it easy for me to purchase a new car. With a wave of his powerful hand, my student loan essentially disappeared.

Then Alan started to change. I noticed his moodiness during policy discussions and guest appearances. He didn't look like the carefree, happy guy I once knew.

He got gun-shy. Economic results that used to have him jumping for joy now put him in a fretful, worried state. He held himself to an unrealistically high standard, and fears that his expansion couldn't possibly last made him skittish.

Where he once saw opportunity, Mr. Greenspan now sees nothing but impending inflation, like a phantom haunting his daydreams and nightmares. Personally, I think his visions of doom are as phony as the price increases of Beanie Babies.

Like most in the banking and finance communities, Mr. Greenspan does not give this year's productivity numbers enough credit for the ever-burgeoning economy. Nor has he duly noted that Americans on average work more hours than they have in the past, and more hours than their foreign counterparts. This would explain the wage pressures with which the Fed is so obsessed.

While housing construction starts continue to be high -- barely heeding threatened interest rate increases -- a closer look at last month's data shows single-family housing starts up only marginally. Individuals are feeling the Fed's squeeze -- it's the apartment builders who keep on developing.

I can no longer love a man who works not for the American family, but for his own legacy. (Hmmm, sound familiar?) I wish Alan were out of my life altogether, but he will remain long enough to make my new home loan cost a few grand more.

Relax those fists, Alan. We're working hard out here. You're stopping development for fear of inflation that doesn't exist. Loosen up -- the real estate community's gotten the message.