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MY HERO
When I was a child about 9 or 10 I meet a boy that later, little known to me, would grow up to be a true Hero. His name was Bruce. Bruce and I grew up on the same block in upper Manhattan. Although he was black and I was white, these days that doesn't mean much, but 30 years ago that was rarely seen in an upscale neighborhood in Manhattan. I believe it was fate that put us both on that block.
I met Bruce in a garden lot that was across the street from my apartment. Bruce was about 14 and I think I was 10. Bruce and his father took care of the garden. Every day in the summer, Bruce would come and water all the flowers and mow the lawn. We called him the Garden Man. He would let my friends and I come into the garden and play. He would show us the difference between a weed and a plant. I think it was so he could put us to work. On hot days he would leave fire hydrant on for us to cool off (we were in the upper Manhattan, there were no pools around for us to swim in, unless we went swimming in Hudson River. Which wasn't a good idea.). We lived on a dead end street so there were no cars going by, so Bruce would have the hydrant spray into the street for hours.
After a few years Bruce got too old to hang out in the garden with us kids, he went off to college and we lost touch for a while. Until one night in my senior year of High School, we were all out late celebrating our graduation, when I heard a voice call me, "Hey Annie, what are you doing here?" It was Bruce, although it had been years since I've seen him, he knew me the minute he saw me. It was fate yet again that we were both at that party that night.
I began to see Bruce a lot more often, he would come around to the park, where all my friends and I hung out, I introduced him to all my friends, they loved him from the start. He actually was more popular then I was, but I didn't care, I like having him around, he was a lot of fun. He had a very outgoing an addictive personality. He was a creative person who loved life and knew how to live it. He had this big black jeep, that needed a muffler desperately, you could here the truck coming down Broadway, from a while a way. To this day when I here a truck with a bad muffler, I think of Bruce.
Ok sure he sounds like a great guy, right, but that's not why he was my hero. When I was 18 years old my mother passed away. I was devastated. One night after the wake, after putting up a brave face all day long, I just wanted to be alone. I didn't
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