Since I grew up reading that thing, a good part of the stories kinda stuck to me; anything from sad to exciting to macabre, from the H-bomb plant in the late 50’s, to that F-86 Sabre jet pilot who bailed out at supersonic speed in the 60’s, to all sorts of commentaries on the Soviets --long after the wall fell down.
Saddest? I’m almost sure it’s fictional, and I haven’t cried over it yet, but it keeps coming back: the six-year old girl in “A Sandpiper to Give You Joy”, 1980.
May 1949
It Happened on the Brooklyn Subway
Snopes classifies it as a “Legend,” so whether it is fictional or not will probably never be known.
Snopes does state that though the item is written in the first person, the original author did not have the experience written about in the story. Apparently, it was recounted to her by an acquaintance, and she set it down on paper later.
ETA: I remember reading that story in Reader’s Digest too. It is quite touching.
My Father’s Hands has been haunting me since 1976.
I still think of it whenever I see canned pears.
Omg, I remember that one, too!
“Thank You, Ronald Reagan”.
That was the one that shattered my innocence.
When I was 12 or so, I read about a horrific school bus/train accident. I was so upset at the graphic details, I cried for hours. Today whenever I cross the railroad tracks when I’m driving, I think of how school now buses stop at the tracks crossing the road. That was made a law after that terrible collision.
My grandmother had quite a collection of old magazines, including these, in her garage, and there were some articles I read over and over again when I visited her as a kid. I definitely remember this one - and know now that the father took the boy to a crackpot faith healer, but also used legitimate medicine in a futile attempt to help his son.
http://www.tucsontabernacle.com/images/stories/pdf/tracts/readers-digest_donny-morton.pdf
And here’s the original story from “Time”, although most of it is hiding behind a paywall.
This story, promoting cremation, first appeared in 1937 (with 1937 prices, of course) and has been reprinted many times.
And the original version:
In the seventies I used to read it at my aunt’s house. The one that stands out in my mind was a man who was “cut in half” by a chainsaw and survived with limbs intact. The details escape me but I remember that although he wasn’t literally in two pieces the injuries described did pretty much qualify as cut in half. Gruesome!
One that I posted in 2015: an oldie from Reader’s Digest in 1971: Who Mourns for Herbie Wirth?. A sweet sob story. Turns out he was a real person; his gravesite is in Indianapolis.
The Murder of Robbie Wayne, Age Six.
Story here, if you can stomach it.
The only Reader’s Digest story I remember was a book except about this gay flight attendant from France who traveled frequently to San Francisco and brought AIDS to the gay bathhouses there. It seemed like this one guy introduced AIDS to North America. I can’t remember the title of the book or the name of the man except they called him “Patient Zero” I believe.
Check out “Everyday Heroes” in this month’s issue. If that kid hadn’t chased down the kidnapper…
Gaetan Dugas. The Patient Zero theory has now been discredited, and genetic testing has shown that Dugas was not the source of the virus in the U.S.
A little boy with special needs was playing the innkeeper in a Christmas play. He wasn’t trusted with more lines than, “No room at the inn.” But on Christmas Eve, he said, “Wait! Mary and Joseph, come back! You can stay in my room!” The minister didn’t bother giving his sermon, saying he’d never come up with a better one than the little boy had said.
It was presented as fact.
My pick would be a story about a boy who brings his sick old cat to the veterinarian and has to make the difficult decision to put her to sleep. The cat, I mean.
So I looked it up, not having much of a regard for the old buster. Here.
**Your manner sprang from the fact that even though you were President, you were always yourself. You never had to prove anything. I´ll never forget the day you phoned me when I was Secretary of Education. The call came in out of the blue. " Hello, Bill, " came your familiar voice. " Did I know a certain poem that paid tribute to teachers? ", you asked.
**
*"No, Mr. President, “I confessed.
*
*” Well, let me get it to you, " you answered.
*
*I thought you´d get some aide to look it up, copy it and fax it to my office. But no, you wrote it out longhand, from memory, and sent it over, as if you were a neighbor eager to share something.
*
It’s nice he had the time.
I remember reading one about a person hitting a free-roaming dog with his car. I cried and cried over it. My sister had no sympathy for me, pointing out that I should know better than to read something titled “I Killed Your Dog Today.”
I also remember one about a policeman called to save a choking toddler (this was prior to 911) and he needed to get through a field being turned into a housing development, I think. A steamroller (IIRC) driver yelled, “I’ll make you a road!” So he did, and the policeman got there in time to save the boy, and the next day he came back to thank the driver. The toddler was his son.