mangeorge, I think the bravest thing I’d done was staying in the engineroom when I saw a shipmate running from a billowing cloud of steam, just after hearing a BANG. (He was just going to get a wrench, but…) All I wanted to do was teleport up the escape trunk. We all knew what would happen if we were stuck in the engineroom during a main steam line rupture: We’d be cooked alive from the inside out. I’ve had people tell me I was brave for working on a reactor plant, and they never really understand, until it is explained to them in excruciating detail, that it’s the steam that’s scary, not the zoomies.
OTOH, I’ve also got a dangerously low threshold for trying to help people. I was working in HS at a garden center, and me and another worker were taking down the winter walls, which were about 12 feet tall, and 8 to 10 feet wide. He was using a forklift to get them loose, and catch 'em as they fell back. When the first one fell… I jumped to try to catch the thing, because it was going to fall right on him! Of course, he was protected by the steel driver’s cage of the forklift, so he was fine. He pointed out the first rule of rescue work: Make sure you’re going to be part of the solution, not adding to the problem. It’s a lesson I still haven’t learned completely. I got ‘killed’ several times in training for acting to save a shipmate without thinking, first.
And Paul in Saudi and fishbicycle, if giving blood terrifies you, and you did it anyways, that’s courage in my book. I know I’d rather donate another gallon or two than jump out of a perfectly healthy airplane, myself. Courage, in my mind, is being able to do what’s needed in spite of fear.
I’ve yet to see here one post which doesn’t, IMO, qualify. Bravery doesn’t have to be physical, for sure. I once had to stick around and “face the music” for something I’d done, even though there was no benefit to me for doing so. The pull to leave was great, but I didn’t. That was the hardest.
When I was about 16 or so I was hiking by myself in Bakersfield, in an area called “The Bluffs” by the locals, and which lies below where I nearly fell from a cliff. The remnant of the mighty Kern River, along with a system of irrigation canals pass through The Bluffs, and it was a popular place for us kids to hang out.
Anyway, as I was walking along, I heard this wierd, vaguely human cry. I went over closer to the near canal and heard it again, and it seemed to come from a distant weir (a wooden apparatus, kinda like a dam, used to control water flow in canals). When I got to the weir, I saw this kid, maybe 13, way down in the mossy part of it. He’d climbed down a ways, then got onto the moss and slid way down, and was suffering from exposure and out of reach. He kept slipping and I was afraid he would fall into the churning water below. I can’t swim. so I was reluctant to go down there, but I climbed down the dry part so I could hang onto the lowest dry boards and dangle down the mossy part. He grabbed my foot and I was able to pull us both up (he was skinny) to the dry structure when some older kids came along and helped. He passed out at the top and an ambulance came and got him. No EMT’s in those days. He was in the hospital for a couple days.
Anyway, It was in the paper, but they didn’t know my name. Everybody knew it was me, though, because of the older kids. An entire summer of fame.
A long story, huh? Sorry.
The only thing I ever did that might qualify was getting between a bellowing, behemoth of a lunatic and the Golden Retriever puppy he had hog tied was was kicking into his garage. Anyone would have done the same thing I did, the dog was howling in pain. It just happened to be me walking by his house at the time.
I was pretty ineffectual (he outweighed me 3 times over). If I had been a man he probably would have flattened me, but I must have seemed more like a mosquito buzzing around his face. I couldn’t talk him into giving me the dog, or even untying it. I do think I broke his concentration though. By the time the police got there, he had calmed down and the dog appeared to be okay.
The not so happy ending was that nothing happened to the guy, no charges were brought and, as far as I know, he kept that poor dog.
People keep saying, “I didn’t feel brave, I was scared.” But that’s the point. That’s what bravery is - feeling scared out of your gourd but doing the right thing anyway. I think every story here is a story of bravery. Missy2U, I think giving a baby up for adoption is one of the bravest, most loving things someone can do.
I guess my daughter brought out my bravery. I consider one of my greatest accomplishments to be persevering in breastfeeding her under very trying circumstances. I was in terrible pain in one of the most sensitive areas of my body every 2-3 hours around the clock, sleep deprived, and on top of everything had a Foley catheter in without the benefit of anti-spasmodic drugs. Sometimes I felt like I was putting my nipple in a meat grinder, but I persisted, fired the first lactation consultant for incompetence, found proper help, and am still nursing her over a year later.
A couple months ago, I locked her in the car (not running, and in the sun in NC in May). I freaked for a minute, then calmly did everything I needed to do to get her out. As soon as I could get into the car, I took her out, rushed her into the house, and doused her with cold water. Only after everything had been taken care of and my husband was home did I sit down and blubber like an idiot.
Yeh, that’s how it was for me in the killer horse episode. You see the incipient disaster, do what has to be done, and only after the crisis is over do you fall apart. Man, was I ever shaking once I got out of the ring and had time to contemplate what could have happened. During the rescue itself, I felt urgent but calm, focussed, and in command of whatever I had to do. It was… well, I’d call it an altered state.
Now, that said, while I admire those of you who, like me, didn’t feel the full terror of what they were doing until they’d survived it, I have even greater respect for you who’ve contemplated in wretched fear what needs to be done, known full well just how afraid you are, and gone ahead to do what you must anyway, despite the fear scalding through your veins. THAT is real guts, to me.
I intervened to stop a man beating up a woman in my hallway, until she could run and lock herself in my apartment – leaving me out in the hall to have the crap beaten out of me. 70 stitches.
I stepped right out of my elevator door once between two screaming guye armed with clubs swinging at each other (actually one had a baseball bat and one had a fire extinguisher). Since they stopped when I appeared, I stayed right where I was. Then I reached out and took the weapons out of their hands, and one of them got on the elevator and left. The one who stayed was the new live-in boyfriend of my next door neighbor.
A year ago I got in a very heated argument with my mom’s boyfriend. Both of us were screaming at each other, and it seemed rather inevitable that it would end in a flat-out brawl.
I had been bullied around by him for several years; he used intimidation to get his way but each time he did it I got increasingly fed up, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to pound the shit out of him so he’d leave me alone.
I was a hair trigger away from punching him in the face, my muscles tense and adrenaline shooting through me. But as badly as I wanted to fight him, I knew it was a bad idea because he was drunk (and would likely have an unfair advantage in a brawl) but also because I didn’t think it would fix things in the grand scheme of things.
Later he apologized for his behavior profusely and even quit drinking. Lately our relationship has been really good and I’m glad I had the courage to hold back and take the high road in a situation that could have very likely ended in a lot of pointless violence and battered egoes.
Bravery is something that happens. Your involved, your close, your in a temper, or your cool calm and collected. You simply rush to help. Before you know it, its over - its only then that you start getting what - if - if - worried. The strange thing is the two people whose life you saved do not look you up, no one really thanks you and you do not really want their thanks. You did it, and you hope they will do it in turn for some one else. But they won’t, you see your a dreamer, and they are not. They scared of injury, of fire, of explosions, worried about getting their shoes or clothes dirty, but they will never admit it. So they lable you brave - big deal.
Would i do it again, No, If i saw someone in trouble - then Yes. Yes, I would.
Incidents, baby had stopped breathing, kiss-of-life, 2 minutes no bravery. I remember what it had said in the Readers Digest.
Car on fire, blazing, car crash, two trapped inside, one under the seat, don’t ask me how they got under the seat, struggle, struggle, any minute this cars gonna blow, struggle, struggle, pull, pull two out, lets run, car doesn’'t blow like on films, it just goes whoooooooooooooooooooosh. Your now stood 25 foot away your eyes brows get singed and you have a red nose and red face for the week. Brave, not really.
Real bravery, a cousin in WW1 was going to go AWOL, he leaves the British Army Lines, somehow ends up in and close to the German lines, they see him, he sees them, he decides they’'ve got him. he’s gonna die, so some are going with him, he charges them, a scramble fight takes place, when the firing stops 13 dead, he’s stood looking for the blood on himself, expecting to drop down dead, wondering what happened. A few weeks later the Victoria Cross. An old Sergeant asked him what he was doing over there, near the German lines, he says he wanted a poo and some peace and quiet and didn’t know they were so close. All lies he had had enough and was making for the nearest French village…
I hope you give him a wide berth. Guys like that are sick fucks, and are also dangerous to people who they consider to be helpless. He belongs in jail.
As others have said, you often don’t feel especially courageous at the time. You may even want to avoid the fuss. But later, upon reflection, it can feel pretty good to know you’ve got something inside. Can’t it?
So go ahead, if you’ve been bashful so far, and brag.
Thanks for the concern, mangeorge, but I doubt very much that we’ll be running into each other. He was a complete stranger to me and it happened almost 20 years ago.
Bravest thing I ever did… Well this should be filed under bravest and stupidest. I was babysitting at the neighbor’s when I was 14. The mom had left a candle burning in a terra cotta flower pot that was then sitting in a wooden crate. The two kids and I were upstairs when we heard the alarm going off. So C, age seven, and I run downstairs. I wasn’t sure at this point whether it was the burglar alarm or the fire alarm or what. Once I got downstairs and saw the flames shooting off the table in the living room, it cleared up pretty quick. So C naturally starts screaming and crying. Good decision. I kinda wished I could have joined her.
These neighbors, being a little ditzy, had never showed me where the fire extinguisher was. A few seconds of looking, with C following crying confirmed I wasn’t gonna find it. The flames were too big for me to drop water on it so I grabbed the part of the crate that wasn’t engulfed in flames and started running into the kitchen. Dropped it once on the linoleum, left two cool burned marks that were there until they remodeled the kitchen. Anyway I managed to pick it back up and got it into the sink and turned the faucet on. It went out pretty quick so then I dumped some water on the tablecloth where it had started to scorch.
So I ended up with some burns on my left hand, but no scars. Anyway, I was in a fair bit of pain, but I did manage to notice I was short a kid, C’s eight year old brother B. C had stopped crying by then so she went to get me some ice for my hand and we called my mother(just down the street and a doctor to boot). B was it turned out asleep under a blanket in his sister’s room, having slept through the whole thing. As we woke him up, their parents drove up. Their mother was very apologetic. :smack:
-Lil
I don’t know if it was bravery or cowardice, but the hardest thing I ever did was sign a DNR for my terminally ill child… and then just hold him while he stopped breathing instead of breathing for him like I wanted.
Yep Abby, that’s brave all right.
I don’t know that I’ve ever done anything very brave. I once owned up to scraping up my uncle’s brand new truck (I mean, it had about 30 miles on the odometer!); that was pretty horrible. I didn’t have a lot of choice though; it was either 'fess up or take off for Canada. And since he’s a PI, he would have found me anyway.
Mangeorge, I can’t help but notice that you used to live in Bakersfield and now in Berkeley–the two places I spent a majority of my life. Were you there for the '76 duststorm perchance? It’s one of my first memories.
I do recall a huge dust storm in the Bakersfield area around the mid 70’s or so. It shut down practically everything, and wreaked havoc on the freeway and highways. Made national news. It’s been a long time, though.
Is that the one?
In April, my favorite cat in the whole world escaped through a screen door and was attacked by my landlord’s dog. This dog was a big, mastiff-looking mix who weighed about 80 lbs. Without even thinking about it, I jumped on the dog’s back and tried to wrestle my cat away from her for several minutes, despite being bitten by both animals (I felt nothing until the next day…)
I failed. My neighbor Joe came out and got the dog off us, but it was too late for my cat, who I had to put to sleep 3 days later.
Until I read this thread, I never considered myself as having been brave in this situation. To be honest, it took more bravery for me to have him euthanized than it did to fight the dog. I never gave that fight a moment’s thought before jumping in. I just wish I could have been more successful.
Yeah, that was it. At the time, my grandparents owned Bakersfield Audio on F Street, a stereo store, and the alarm kept going off from the dust, and we kept having to go out and turn it off. I was only 3, so no help, but I went along for the ride once or twice.
I know I’d rather donate another gallon or two than jump out of a perfectly healthy airplane, myself. Courage, in my mind, is being able to do what’s needed in spite of fear.
