The stories of HeroicStories.
by Linda Gavitt
Connecticut, USA
In January 1999 planning for my daughter’s wedding began with a phone call telling me she and John would marry in March — leaving little time to plan! Fortunately Lauren wanted a small wedding with 20-30 close friends and relatives. She was in Orlando, Florida, John was stationed in Kentucky, and I was in Connecticut. Her finance’s family generously offered their help to plan everything, and their Tampa area home for the reception.
by Charles Horner
Texas, USA
In the mid 1980s, I was enrolled in a travel agency school for entrepreneurs who wanted to operate their own travel agency. We got valuable information on the geography of the world. And we were trained on educating our clients to deal with idiosyncrasies and cultural habits of other cultures around the world. Some of the information gleaned from those classes has stuck with me to this day, especially on how to treat other people… no matter what they look like.
By Martha
New Hampshire, USA
Shannon used to work second shift at my company, but often came in much before his start time of 3:30 p.m. In February 2003, at 11:30 a.m. on a Tuesday, he stopped at a donut shop near his home to get a cup of coffee. This was something he regularly did because he needed the caffeine to get through the night. As he got out of his car, he nodded at a fellow customer who was standing outside his car, eating a bagel.
by The Patient
USA
Over 25 years ago a friend recommended a doctor to me. The doctor had a private practice and his office was nearby. Best of all, he favored “preventive and natural medicine”, important to me as I seem to be allergic to half the substances known to mankind. Foods, chemicals, dyes, you name it, I’m allergic.
by Tom Murrell
Ohio, USA
Recently I went to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., known as The Wall. Some fellow Vietnam veterans and I had just finished a healing weekend called the Bamboo Bridge. Those of us who could take the extra time stayed another day. We went to the memorial to pay our respects to fallen comrades, to complete our work at this sacred place.
by Lisa Vetitoe
Tennessee, USA
In 1998 I rented a storage unit in a small community west of Nashville to help me organize my home. Inside I put my personal artwork: etchings, silk-screen prints, and the original plates they were made from. Also inside were photos, books and miscellaneous stuff.
by Crystal M. Anderson
Iowa, USA
It was 1952 and I was a sophomore in high school. An algebra class was dealing me fits and it wasn’t sinking into my dull brain. The language of algebraic terms threw me for a loop. My teacher was Miss Rupp and my fear of her was second to none other I had faced before.
by Eric Jacobson
Carrollton, Texas
In 1970, I was enrolled at a college in Colorado Springs. I had just spent a couple of months rehabbing an old BSA (English) motorcycle when spring break rolled around, and I thought it was about time to give it a real road test. I hopped on with just a few provisions and headed south to see my family in Dallas, 750 miles away.
by Jennifer
California, USA
As a young child, I had severe depression. I had never known what it was like to wake up in the morning and actually feel like I deserved to be alive. It was a struggle not to commit suicide. I don’t know what caused this in me so young, and I’m not sure I care to know.
by Richard Ewald
California, USA
My friend Don is one of those guys who has never met a stranger. Everyone he meets becomes a friend. Don is a college dean. The program he administers is considered to be the best training program of its type in the world. Not one of the best, but number one. This is due almost entirely to Don’s vision and personality. The word dynamic was coined, I believe, to describe Don. I met Don when my company became affiliated with his program.