The stories of HeroicStories.
By Jackie Walton
Washington, USA
Tacoma. It’s a large town in the Western US state of Washington, typically seen by Washingtonians (including most Tacoma residents) as a mediocre suburb of Seattle. The streets, buildings, even the people, all are mediocre — or so they say.
by Joyce Schowalter
Seattle, Washington, USA
My Aunt, Hildred Dungan, was born in 1898 on a farm near Sedan, Kansas. Her family believed in hard work, education, honesty, and service to one’s community. To attend high school, she “boarded out” in a nearby town — it was too far to travel daily on horseback.
by Chris Riley
New Jersey, USA
Two years ago my wife died. We had been married 11 years and our son Steven was almost 3 months old. Jill and I were very happy with Steve, and she was on maternity leave from her reference librarian job. One day I came home and found Jill dead on the floor. The autopsy showed that she most likely died of heart arrhythmia. There were no signs of struggle or pain; she was dead before she hit the floor.
by Tom Snell
California, USA
More than thirty years ago my first wife and I went through a year’s struggle with cancer in our youngest child, five year old Timothy. Finally, in February 1975, the disease, which had spread to his lungs, reached the point where we had to tell Tim, “There’s nothing more the doctors can do. Do you want to stay here in the hospital with all your nurse and doctor friends, or would you like to come home?”
Mary Burton, Michigan
When I was a child, my aunt and uncle lived a few hours away from my parents. My uncle was my father’s older brother. They didn’t have any children, and lived in a small house in a factory town.
by Paul St. John
California, USA
In July 2003, I hit what I thought was my lowest point. I hadn’t been able to find a good-paying job in the film industry for many months, and finally had to settle for a costume warehouse job with a weekly take-home check of $547.39. If I had only myself to support, I could manage — but I have a wife, five children and two mortgages.
Tina M., Fairfax, VA
When I was nine years old, my biological father skipped town and joined a carnival to avoid paying child support. Soon after, my mother started dating George, who lived across the street from us. George had no children of his own, and he and I got along well. During the summers, while my mother was at work, I spent hours out on jobs with him while he repaired TVs, video games, and jukeboxes (this was the ’80s).
By Kelly Slocum
Washington, USA
My parents had been married for 41 years when both had to undergo biopsies for cancer at the same time. My father was the strong, stoic type and seemed relatively unalarmed about his diagnosis of prostate cancer. My mother, whose diagnosis was for breast cancer, had lost her mother to cancer as a teenager. She was terrified by the thought that either she or Dad might have this dreaded disease.
by Don Belo
Ontario, Canada
It was an extremely cold winter day in Ontario, Canada, in February 1989. I had just bought a new car, however due to snow and icy conditions I refused to drive it on this day. I used public transportation for a date with a gal I’d been seeing a few months.
by Jen Cravens
Sausalito, California, USA
I remember waking up in the emergency room with a tube being shoved down my throat. Disoriented, confused and terrified, I had no idea where I was. The last I remember was stepping into a hotel elevator, quite drunk after drinking four beers at a party. From what I could piece together, I had passed out, had three seizures, went into a coma, and my heart stopped. I woke up right after the emergency room team got it beating again. The official diagnosis was an allergic reaction to alcohol.