A story that shapes you

Cajungal

Staff member
I was about to post something in the random crap thread, but then I didn't. This is a personal story that helped shape who I am today. Read mine and then share your own!

We have an elevator to our upstairs classrooms for people who can't use the stairs. I almost never use it, even when my coworkers invite me on to chat while we make the ride up. I guess it seems rude or not the "work politics" thing to do, but I just can't. No one asks why not, but I can see that they wonder. Am I scared of elevators? Nope.

My mother had two aunts who both suffered from the same type of muscular dystrophy (can't remember which type). By middle age, neither of them could walk or talk. By 65, they couldn't even swallow. It was a tough life for them, but they still had smiles in their eyes most of the time. They were strong women who made the most of every moment. My cousin, one of their sons, also has it. He's a magnificent pianist who is slowly losing his ability to share his gift. Growing up with them, I can't bear to give up an opportunity to take advantage of my healthy body. It's always in my head that walking, singing, writing, and talking might not be forever.

What's a story that shapes you?
 
When I was fifteen or sixteen, I studied at a private tutorial college in London. We got an hour for lunch every day, from 12 to 1. I was on my way to Burger King, which was a 5 minute walk away from the school. An old lady, obviously lost, stopped me and started talking to me in Cantonese.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Cantonese," I said to her.

She showed me a piece of paper that said "South Kensington Station" and made inquiring noises at me in Cantonese.

I knew where South Kensington Station was, it was only one stop away and approximately 10 minutes walk. Despite the language barrier, I could probably have taken her to the station, it wouldn't have eaten too much into my lunch hour. Or, at least, I could've pointed her in the right direction. But I was in a hurry to get to Burger King, so I shrugged and repeated, "I'm sorry, I don't speak Cantonese," then went on my way.

I left an old lady to fend for herself in a city she was completely lost in, where she didn't speak the language. She probably latched onto the first Asian face she saw, desperate for help, and I just left her there. So after I realized what I'd done, I decided I wasn't going to be like that any more. I started being more helpful. It usually costs nothing to be helpful. Ten minutes out of my day, twenty minutes, what does that matter? I could literally, quite literally, be making the difference between life and death.

I often wonder what happened to that old lady in London. I hope she found her way to South Kensington Station.
 
I was 6 years old, in first grade. I was friends with a girl in my class named Michelle. She lived one street over from mine with her three sisters and her grandparents. At the time I didn't know why she lived with her grandparents and it didn't matter to my 6 year old self. One day, Michelle came to school with one of those plastic party picks that look like a sword. She told me she was going to kill herself to be with her mom in heaven. She was crying and told me how much she missed her mom. I told her all the reasons why she shouldn't kill herself. On the way home that day I told my grandmom what had happened. She called Michelle's grandmother and then told me that Michelle would be ok.
It turned out that her mother had been murdered. A woman had cut open her stomach to steal her unborn baby. Michelle's dad couldn't handle it, dropped them off at his parents' home, and left. Not only did she lose her mom, but she also lost her dad and had a baby sister that reminded her all the time of what had happened.

Early on I learned that you never know what someone else might be going through.
 
I know I've mentioned it before, but I feel like I need to elaborate a little.
The story, for those who haven't seen it (seriously, you should, even if you aren't a fan of what you think it might be), is one of a man who goes to a place most people do not go, spends quite a bit of time learning something most people do not know, and then comes back and teaches it to others.
I have learned many things over my lifetime. However, the majority are things which do not belong to me, I do not own them. This knowledge and experience can bring a benefit to others, and so I try to share when I can. For this, I often get branded a know-it-all. I continue anyway, convinced that I will be a catalytic influence helping some portion of the world to become a better place, which is its own reward.

--Patrick
 
Jesus, that is crazy. That poor girl.
She and her oldest sister were most effected because of their age. The next younger sister was still preschool age and the youngest, well, she was the baby. I didn't get told the whole story until I was older, of course. As a 1st grader I was just told her mom had died.
 
She and her oldest sister were most effected because of their age. The next younger sister was still preschool age and the youngest, well, she was the baby. I didn't get told the whole story until I was older, of course. As a 1st grader I was just told her mom had died.
Ever heard how they turned out?
 
She and her family moved to Illinois or Missouri during our junior year of high school. We lost touch shortly afterward. I just tried finding her on the interwebs, but the only thing I found out is that her oldest sister got married.
 
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