Your Hero 9/12-9/18

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Brian
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Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby Brian » Tue Sep 12, 2006 8:42 am


Brian
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Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby Brian » Tue Sep 12, 2006 8:42 am

Who is your hero and why?

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.

cathryisist
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RE: Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby cathryisist » Tue Sep 12, 2006 11:20 am

My hero's name is Wendy. She's an over worked and under appreciated mother. Her children are her reason for living. She cooks and cleans daily before work, works an eight hour day then she's home again to work some more. She goes grocery shopping and does errands for her family with any spare moment, usually getting up hours ahead of anyone else to fit it all into her dayor leaving for a hurried trip during lunch. Even when she's tired she's on her way to baseball practice, hockey practice or some other sport. She rushes from work early just for the thrill of seeing her sons pitch a baseball or play hockey. She keeps a palm pilot and cell phone near by so that they can reach her, often interrupting her work or what ever else she may be doing. Most of her money is spent on her children's wants and needs and hardly any on herself. She makes time to water the plants and enjoy a hobby or two. She works so hard and so long just for a simple "Thank you, Mom" that she may never hear. My hat's off to this woman and all those who are like her. I don't know where you find the energy and time to do all that you do.

JohnOBX
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RE: Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby JohnOBX » Tue Sep 12, 2006 4:25 pm

     Madeline barely felt the touch of rough fingers against her throat.  The pain in her legs obliterated almost all other conscious thought.  She tried to open her eyes, but they stung too badly for her to catch more than a glimpse before she squeezed them shut again.  A man above her, big and yellow with something on his face.  She tried to wipe the soot from her eyes, but it only made them sting more

      “Well you got a pulse lady, that’s a start.”  The voice was muffled.  There were deep breathing sounds and all she could think of was Darth Vadar. 

    “Please help me,” she said weakly. 

    What the hell had happened?  One moment she was sitting at her desk, the next moment the building fell down around her.  That was all her short term memory had for her right now.  Maybe it would elaborate more later.

    Heat.  It was hot and getting hotter.  Her hearing returned incrementally and she recognized the sound of things burning.  She tried to move but pain shot through her brain so violently she almost fainted.  Not here, not this way, she thought to herself.

      She steeled herself for another glimpse.  The yellow man was standing now.  Was he leaving?  He looked left and right. 

     “Don’t try to move.  Looks like a desk flipped over and landed on you.”

     “Are we on fire?”

     “Not yet.”

     “What happened?” Madeline asked.

     “Bomb or something in the building.  Don’t know yet.” 

     A bomb?  Here?  In this building.  Impossible.

     Madeline pulled up her uniform sleeve, using the clean blouse underneath to wipe her face.  Her eyes still stung, but now she could see.  She almost wished she’d kept them shut.  Fire licked the walls all around the office.  Smoke roiled across the ceiling.  She had an inkling this was what hell looked like on a bad day. 

     She couldn’t see the man anymore.

     “Hey!  Hey, don’t leave me,” she cried out.  But nobody answered.  She gritted her teeth and managed to prop herself up on her elbows.  Bad idea.  Down on the ground she was below the worst of the smoke, but even a few inches of elevation made a difference and she convulsed in a coughing fit.

     The desk trapping her legs shifted and slowly moved upward.  The man had his shoulder into it and was forcing it off her.  With a final heave he shoved it off to a side.  Gently he tried to pick her up off the floor, but it was not gentle enough.  Pain from her legs overwhelmed her and she passed out. 

            

     She woke to the comforting sounds of beeping monitors and the sterile scent peculiar to hospitals everywhere.  Her eyes fluttered open.  No pain anymore, but everything was blurry.  She was too tired to keep them open.  Someone moved next to the bed and she felt rough fingers against her throat.

     “Still got that pulse, lady.”

      My hero, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

--John 


Gladys
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MY Hero

Postby Gladys » Wed Sep 13, 2006 8:08 am

Funny, I was thinking of that last night. The name that came to me was Roy Rogers, The King of The Cowboys. Why you may ask, well the answer to that I remembered last night as I mentaly wrote the article about him. In every movie or TV program he used his own name, his friends, Dale, Pat, Gabby, and Bob used their own names also. He taught love, peace and only use force as a last resourse. Believe in a Higher Power and yourself. With your higher power you can do anything. At the end of his TV programs he always said, "Good Bye, Good Luck and May The Good Lord Take a Liking to you." Some times it was "God willing we will be here next week." He was a spiritual man who was my hero as a child and even now 50 years later.

astaatz
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Hero 09/12/2006

Postby astaatz » Wed Sep 13, 2006 8:46 am

Without a doubt, my hero is my grandpa.
The single most influential person in my life as a child, my grandpa was the rock of my world.
He had three great loves in life: God, the New York Yankees and my grandma. As young as four I can remember passing afternoons and evenings on the couch half asleep while he watched a Yankeees game.
He met my grandma, a true Rosie the Riveter, right before he went overseas in World War II. I should add that had there not been a World War II to go and fight, he was contracted to play for the Yankees. That opportunity had passed when he came back from war, but he never seemed too bitter about it. They were married for just short of 60 years.
My grandpa sheltered me through the tumoulous valley of the teen years and because of him, I finished high school and college. I moved in with my grandparents at the age of 17, something which infuriated my mother. There were many reasons my grandfather never sent me back to live with my parents, but my mother never spoke to him again.
Losing a daughter hurt him deeply, but he never spoke of her in anger. He died about a year ago.
I say my grandpa is my hero because of the example he left for me. He always acted with integrity and stood up for what he believed in, even when it meant losing a daughter.
He always pushed me to do my best and even when I failed, he never stopped believing in me.
He was respected by all, even his enemies.
He is the legacy I will always try to live up to.

CillaKay
 

She is my hero

Postby CillaKay » Wed Sep 13, 2006 10:40 am

She was a widow in her seventies and probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds. The house she lived in was an ancient wooden structure. The roof was tin. Her heat came from the fireplace and her kitchen stove. She had box fans to bring relief from steamy Florida summers. We fed the chickens that roamed her yard through cracks in the floorboards.

I wasn’t more than four that summer when a hurricane swept through. The track of the storm went right over her place. The house shook, but withstood the assault. Ancient trees fell. The eye moved in and calm settled over the land for a brief period. She knew there was just a short time before the wind would pick up again, but she worried about her neighbor down the road...an elderly widow in a brick house.

She didn’t have a car, so in the eye of that hurricane, she walked a quarter mile down a dirt road to make sure her neighbor was okay. Then she came back home to weather the rest of the storm.

She thought of others before her self. This is just one of the reasons that my late grandmother was and is my hero. I pray there may be some part of her in me.


Balzac61
 

RE: Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby Balzac61 » Wed Sep 13, 2006 8:27 pm

That's easy: my hero is Benjamin Franklin. Because: (1) He wrote - and along with that, he wrote cleverly and usually with the motivation to work some kind of good for others as well as himself. What better service is there under which to work as a writer? (2) he was not just a "printer" as he always signed himself, he was one heckuva publisher, too.

Cuteness aside - Franklin was a multi-talented genius who was always aware of opportunities which would aid himself, but spent equally of his talents in gathering like minded individuals to form mutually beneficial organisatoins such as the first lending library. He also had a crucial trait for writers: curiosity, which he led him to investigate the natural world - and again to beneficial ends. He even gave us a new English word: electricity.

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RE: Your Hero 9/12-9/18

Postby jchambers » Thu Sep 14, 2006 12:46 pm

My hero is Abraham Washinton because he was the President of the United States. He refused to lie when he got caught sawing down a cherry tree with an Echo chainsaw somebody had sold to him for a very good price after stealing it from Sears at a moonlight madness sell. His refusal to compromise on his principles led him to be re-elected, at which time he freed all the slaves in the South with the "Emancipation Proclamation" which proclaimed all of the slaves to be free except for those who had to work for a living. The South, who had grown fond of slaves started shooting BB guns, Red Ryders to be specific, at him as he was crossing the Delaware in the Mirrormatic. Which led the North to develop Canons and Pentax's to catch them in the act. The latter were manufactured in some other country and imported on the USS Lusitania, which struck an iceburg in the Arctic ocean while in route for China to pick up a Chinese diplomat, Confucius, who never got to devise a wise saying about it because all hands were lost save one that crossed the water. It was such a titanic event "hands across the water" would have been the saying he would have devised to encourage worldwide fellowship and peace had he known of the incident. Having not known, the expression was later applied to the capability of vaporizing people in other countries from "across the water" instead.

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RE: She is my hero

Postby Michelle » Fri Sep 15, 2006 10:41 pm

Although I live in Australia, your grandmother could have been MY grandmother!

They don’t make them like that anymore!
I could even picture her pushing her way through the wind to get to the lady down the road.

This was very thought provoking for me, and brought memories back of my grandmother.
Nice tribute you have given your grandmother …well done.

And I’m sure there is plenty of her in you, that’s why you’ve written this!!
:) :)

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