now, it seems just a typical question at first. but something in me just felt that the question hit rather close to home for some reason.
Prompt
What is the most heroic thing you have done in your life?
Now, growing up, I was the typical child who grew up in a normal environment until my parents divorced when I was eight. Don't worry, it's hardly relevant to the point being asked. Relevant to the point though is that although I do not pride myself in it, my family has had dealings with the criminal element prevalent in Puerto Rico. You name it, drugs, guns, and jail. Thankfully, although some of my relatives were into it, I wasn't, neither was my younger brother. Fast forward from eight, to eighteen. Freshman year in college, second trimester, February of 2002. I was out in the San Juan district partying with a few friends drinking and listening to bands from the local scene. Having to go early since I had a pretty harsh algebra 2 test coming up, I decided to leave in order to study...or so I thought.
Walking to the nearest bus stop, I heard what appeared sobbing coming from an adjacent structure with an ally. I am still not sure if it was my logic failing me, or if the liquor had steeped into my senses, blocking out common sense, but instead of staying away, I walked right into the ally. There I found a homeless man who was crying. A man of probably 25 or more, but looked older due to his worn out t-shirt, raggedy jeans, and his flip flops crouched near a dumpster. The typical look for a junkie in today's Puerto Rico, but the one differing thing about this man is that he was crying... and there was a knife on the floor. He kept repeating to himself "I can't do this, I can't do this, God..." over and over. He didn't realize I was in that ally with him until I spoke, and I knew of this because he was surprised the moment my words got to him. Asking him if he was alright, He looked at me square in the eye, tears running down his face still, and told me that he couldn't do it. Something in me was going to ask what exactly, but instead a yellow light from the corner of my eye caught my attention. watching the glowing 'McDonald's' billboard from the bus stop at the corner of the street, I told the man to not tell me anything, and not to worry... then I asked him if he had had anything to eat. The guy looked at me funny, as if I had asked a humorous question in a humorless moment. I reassured him, told him to follow me, and proclaimed that I was hungry. Instead of eating inside the restaurant, we ate the food we bought from the Micky-Dee's outside; People in the metro area don't like it when scraggly-looking folk enter their restaurants. Sitting on the sidewalk after eating for a bit, he introduced himself. His name was Jorge Olivera. He, like most junkies, was a nomad, moving from place to place, never owning a home, and either sleeping near a shelter or on the streets. After a few minutes of talking, I managed to ask him what had happened back in the ally, although it was unintentional. He looked at me somberly and said "I hadn't eaten in two days. I've been going cold turkey for two days as well, but I just reached my breaking point."
Asking him about the knife back at the ally, he said how he was planning on stealing from the same McDonald's we just bought food from, because the manager there was an asshat and always called the police whenever he came through the drive in asking for food, and how even though he always had the money, they always said no. Still reeling from it all, he then confessed that he was asking God for help, since he had stopped thinking of robbing the place, and instead opted for killing himself then and there and how he felt about it. I don't know where did the words came from, but I managed to tell him how taking his life wasn't and shouldn't be an option. I also told him how we tend to weight the negative in our lives greatly when compared to the good we do. Afterwards, we took the bus to the station, and i payed his ride. He then said the shelter was nearby, while i climbed on the connecting ride to get home. I waved him goodbye and wished him luck, and into the night he went in the direction of where the nearby homeless shelter was.
Four years later I had walked into Borders browsing their books and found a book by John C. Maxwell titled "The Right to Lead: A Study in Character and Courage" By then I had begun to research things for my book (which I wrote about in my previous journal entry) when the guy behind me tapped my shoulder. At first glance i didn't recognize the guy: clean-shaved look, nice haircut, polo shirt, bright smile. It wasn't until he spoke that I finally recognized who it was... It was Jorge.
He told me how that one night made him take up to the streets and change his life. Apparently he was a University Graduate in Electrical Engineering, but once he had finished his studies, fell with the wrong crowd. Doing drugs and such, drove him to do alot of stupid things like blowing off his job, house, car and pretty much everything else. Once again, stumped at the fact that this man is the same guy who four years ago was a junkie living on the streets, I was a bit overwhelmed when he offered me to eat out at chilli's. sweatdrop In four years, he had managed to get back to where he was, had got a grant from the government for his own shop and now was selling and fixing computers, had his house and car. He had even told me how he met a nice lady and how they were going out. Although I was happy for the guy, I was in a state of utter disbelief at the change that had happened. After all that happened that day, Once I got home I decided to read the book I had bought, which until that moment i had completely forgot I purchased. Reading through the many passages, as well as quotes from various famous people, there was a quote by one Arthur Ashe that actually made me think deeply about what transpired.
"True heroism is remarkably sober,
very undramatic. It is not the urge to
surpass all others at whatever the cost,
but the urge to serve others at whatever cost."
very undramatic. It is not the urge to
surpass all others at whatever the cost,
but the urge to serve others at whatever cost."
Even to this day, I still think of those two very separate events... and I wonder what could have been of Jorge if I had ignored his cry.
sweatdrop Sorry if it seems lengthy.
Community Member
My dad opened two Christian halfway houses in my town, and I get to see people's lives transforming. This story really hit home because of that, it's not often you get to see a success story. And it must feel really good to know you single-handedly changed that man's life.
It wasn't lengthy, it gives you more time to think while you read it. razz