"We don't set out to save the world;
we set out to wonder how other people are doing
and to reflect on how our actions affect other people's hearts."
-- Pema Chodron
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| Hero brownies, 7-16-14 |
"True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic.
It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost,
but the urge to serve others at whatever cost."
-- Arthur Ashe
Our neighbor, Vera, is a rascal.
We love that about her. It's part of her immense charm.
It's also the thing that gets her into dangerous, troublesome situations. Repeatedly.
Our dear, sweet, widowed Russian friend has a stubborn streak that runs deep. Even though she's 86 years old, frail, and very unsteady on her feet -- she always seems like she's on the tippy edge of the fall that'll end it all -- she refuses to ask for help.
If something gets stuck in her mind that she thinks needs doing right now, and she decides to do it, well ...
We help her do all kinds of things. We've told her numerous times to call us. We've pleaded, lectured, talked tough. We call her son and rat her out when she's naughty. But despite the smack-downs, tough love and interventions, she persists.
Like I said, she's a rascal.
Like the time last winter when I caught her outside in her nightgown on a sub-zero morning chasing tissues all over our icy cul-de-sac in a bitter cold wind, barely staying upright as she tried to navigate the curb before I got out there and escorted her back to the house.
She always picks the hottest, most humid days to do "yard work." She'll be out there in 90-degree heat, red faced, sweating and dangerously out of breath, clinging to a trash can full of yard waste like its one of those toddler learn-to-walk push toys, trying to stay on her feet -- all because 2 geraniums need to be dead-headed.
She tries to hide from us so she doesn't get caught.
My husband has rescued her.
My sons have rescued her.
I've rescued her.
We're not trying to be heroes. We're just trying to help.
Yesterday, it was my neighbor Tyler's turn.
We've lived next door to Tyler's family since we moved in 16 years ago, so I've watched Tyler grow up from a goofy little preschooler into a big, strong kid with a big, soft heart.
Now, he's a real life firefighter. A real life hero.
Which is super handy, because Vera can be like a kitty stuck up a tree.
I drove into the circle yesterday and saw Tyler with a 9-foot-long telescoping pruner in hand, trimming one of Vera's trees. There was a big tall aluminum ladder in the driveway and I could see Vera lurking in the shadows behind the tree -- with her gardening gloves on, while Tyler worked away.
I'm no math wiz, but I put 2 and 2 together and figured out the equation.
Rascal.
Later, I did a little recon and asked Tyler what went down.
He confirmed my suspicions. Vera had dragged out the ladder and the long-handled pruner and he'd caught her in the nick of time. (There was also something about a chain saw, but the details were a little sketchy.)
Tyler stopped whatever else he might have been doing and spent the next hour or so pruning the tree for Vera while she told him what to do and how to do it. She tried to pay him. She insisted on giving him some money. But Tyler refused. He said he was able to talk her down and convinced her to just bake him some brownies instead.
(She "pays" my husband with Manhattans.)
Anyway, I thanked Tyler for swooping in and saving the day and for being an integral part of "Vera Watch."
He's an "aw shucks" kind of guy who just saw an opportunity to help and took it.
Not for accolades.
Not for glory.
Not for recognition.
Not for money.
Not even for brownies.
He did it because he's an everyday hero. And everyday heroes help just because it's the good and right thing to do, especially when they live next door to an 86-year-old stubborn Russian rascal.
He did it because he's an everyday hero. And everyday heroes help just because it's the good and right thing to do, especially when they live next door to an 86-year-old stubborn Russian rascal.
