Hero

“What makes a hero? Where do they come from? Where is the “hero school” they go to? Maybe nothing “makes” them heroes – maybe they just “are.”

Passing out boxes of food door-to-door or tent-to-tent certainly does not fit the “hero” mold. Stopping and listening to people isn’t “hero-ish” either but it does let the stories be told. This is one such story. It begs for embellishment but I will try to just tell it in the same off-handed, casual way that I was told it. The hero didn’t tell it, someone else did.

“Hey guys, we’ve got food and cleaning supplies. Need some?”

The older of the two teen-ish, country-boy types allowed as how they sure did. They appeared to be alone in the hurricane trash strewn lot. The flood-ruined A-frame house fronted by a tent pitched under a tarp told the story if you took time to read it. I was a bit uneasy about asking but I had to.

“Where’s your mom and dad?”

The older, maybe 19, looked me squarely in the eye and said they were off looking for supplies. The younger, maybe 12 or 13, looked me squarely in the eye and didn’t say anything.

After a while, you learn to just go ahead and ask the sort of “personal” stuff.

“Were you here during the storm?”

The older – “I wasn’t. I was in jail. They let us out to help after the storm. My brother was here, and my mother and our little sister. They were all three here.”

Looking at the younger, “What was it like, the storm, I mean?”

The older – “Well, my brother, here, and mother and my little sister all saw the water rising fast, like. Mother and sister went in the house.” Gesturing at the shoulder-high little brother, “He went over to the boat and started un-hooking it from the trailer. By the time he got that done the boat was floating so he climbed in. When he got the outboard started, the water had come so high that mother and sister were in the attic. He drove the boat around to the end of the house, there, and broke out the vent and got mother and sister into the boat.”

The younger brother just looked and very respectfully let big brother tell the story with only an occasional affirmative nod.

“What happened next?”

“He drove the boat down the road, down that-a-way.”

You have to understand that the “road” was by this time a tree-lined canal maybe 16 feet deep. The wind was 150 miles per hour, and these three were in a small open motor boat.

“And then what happened?”

“He drove to some neighbors’ house, some real old people, and got them out of their attic, too. Then he went to some other old people’s house but he couldn’t get them out. We don’t know what happened to them. Then he drove on out.”

“Where did they go?”

“It was lucky. There was enough gas to find a high spot. Then they came back.”

Another silent and respectful nod.

What makes a hero? Why did he go to the boat? So many questions. So many right decisions.

You will never know his name. You don’t need to. Just remember his story. When your turn comes in a “storm” – be a hero.