The stories of HeroicStories.
I young woman’s gift of organ donation helps many people, and their families live a normal life.
by Joseph Hili
Gozo, Malta
I live in the island nation of Malta. When I was young and attending the secondary school in the late 50’s, I had to study by the light of a kerosene lamp. Since there was no electric service in our area, we had no electricity at home. When finally the electricity passed our house, in 1961, I called a local electrician to come and install electricity in our house. He promised to come, but he never did it.
by M. H. Niemann
Texas, USA
It was too early and still dark at 5:30 a.m. as I drove through Houston, Texas on the way to my parents’ house for our 2008 Thanksgiving dinner.
by Betty J Rosentrater
California, USA
My sons — hyperactive, red-haired Ray and super-sensitive, artistic Eldon — were excited and happy. At four and six they no longer needed to tiptoe quietly through the house during the day while their Poppy slept. Finally, the family could eat breakfast together. And he would be back home in time for play before supper. My husband had been working night shift setting type at a publishing house in Kansas City, Missouri. But now that wretched night shift was at an end.
by Dawn
North Carolina, USA
Several years ago we moved to North Carolina. My husband headed to his new job, and I remained behind to sell our house and arrange the move. During this stressful time there was one crisis after another, including a dear friend’s suicide.
Nicole Koon
Arizona, USA
My son experiences social challenges due to having autism. We often see how he is different from those around him, but on one particular afternoon, we got to see how much he is the same, thanks to some amazing middle school kids.
by Andara Bledin
California, USA
In the late ’80s, my brother, David, barely a teenager, took his first long trip on his own, to visit my grandmother.
Suddenly, in the garage, there were sacks and sacks of groceries… with chips and so much more!
by Kerri
Iowa, USA
It was early in April 2003, so it still got dark early. My 8-year-old daughter and I were carrying groceries from the car in the garage to the back door of our house. As we made our way across the yard, a man was standing on our sidewalk watching us. Holding onto my daughter’s hand, I watched him watch us as we moved toward our house.
by Marie Clark
Pennsylvania, USA
Rain began to pour down in buckets as my husband and I left a lovely Philadelphia restaurant and headed back to our car. Purse in one hand, dinner leftovers in the other, we raced toward the parking lot. My husband Mark popped the trunk and I threw leftovers and purse in, and then jumped in the car.