The stories of HeroicStories.
by Anonymous
USA
I cannot walk very far without tiring out or just plain collapsing, because I have multiple sclerosis along with post polio syndrome. I drive an old junker car, and one day I just had to go to the supermarket; they had a sale on I couldn’t pass up. I took my car, and when I came out of the supermarket, the car would not start. I was in a tizzy.
by Bill Warren
Texas, USA
In 2002, my wife and I traveled with another couple on vacation to Australia, New Zealand and then to Tokyo, Japan. Although we met many wonderful travelers and locals, the following two acts of kindness in Japan truly stand out in our minds.
by Byron Thorson
Hammond, Louisiana, USA
I was 23 and had just started a new job in a large, Midwestern city a little before Thanksgiving. At the time, I am sorry to say, I had a serious attitude problem toward many things, including old people and people who rode the bus. However, since I didn’t have a car I had to take the crowded bus myself. One day after work a little old lady boarded carrying a huge shopping bag. Nobody offered her a seat except me.
by Amanda E. Savieri
Victoria, Australia
My childhood was a rough one. My mother had me when she was very young. She blamed me for my own existence every day of my life. She screamed at me even when I was very small, saying I had ruined her life and her marriage. She called me names and told me I would never amount to anything. I got used to it and believed the things she told me, not knowing the effect it would have on me later on.
by Robert LeBlanc
Louisiana, USA
On Wednesday, August 31, my friend Jeff Rau and I wove a motorboat through New Orleans, pulling people out of the water. We ferried people all day between Carrolton Avenue and the Causeway overpass, about a mile and a half each way.
by Dale W. E. Izawa
Washington, USA
As a recovered alcoholic for nearly twelve years, I could write a book about how much I owe to Alcoholics Anonymous and Ken B., my first sponsor. His love and unwavering dedication to other alcoholics come back to me on an almost daily basis.
By Janet Johnson
Oregon, USA
At age fifteen I took a Greyhound bus to visit a friend in another city. As I waved goodbye to my mom I was excited but a little nervous being on my own for the first time. An unshaven man in a black overcoat leaned across the aisle toward me. “Wha’sher name, honey?” he asked.
By Linda Massie
Nevada, USA
In the 1940s my Dad worked as the head surveyor for a seismograph company. He would go in ahead of the oil companies to get permits to survey farms and ranches, and then put an “X” where test oil rigs would be put in. That work sent us all over the western USA from town to town and state to state.
By Patty Mooney
California, USA
It’s been many years since I have had to stand on the end of Pusheck Road in Bellwood, a suburb of Chicago, waiting for the school bus, and yet I remember one special day as though it were yesterday.
by Jeff Simms
Barnegat, New Jersey, USA
It was a nippy Fall day — our favorite kind of weather. It was Saturday and we were going to have a great time. My divorced mother, two younger brothers and I were on our way to the park at the other end of the small Jersey town we lived in. We had our football and makeshift goal posts in the back of the station wagon and our teams already chosen: us against our mother. (Don’t worry, it was only touch football.)