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Inspiration

Who is your hero? Why?1958

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I am reading a book abt the Greatest Generation, the women and men who were in their teens during the depression and many of whom went off to fight in WWII.

It occurred to me their are many, but quickly becoming fewer and fewer, heroes around us.

This is my dad's generation.

Marketing done right means we can make our clients heroes to those they serve.

These heroes are quite different to be sure. They do, however, have one thing in common. They serve.

Who is your hero? Why?
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A hero in the book ....

"Wandrey writes of working in a shock ward in Sicily and seeing an eighteen-year-old who was just brought in from the ambulance. “I went to him immediately,” she said. “He looked up at me trustingly, sighed, and asked, ‘How am I doing, nurse?’ I was standing at the head of his litter. I put my hands around his face, kissed his forehead, and said, ‘You’re doing just fine, soldier.’ He smiled sweetly and said, ‘I was just checking up.’ Then he died."
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Steve private msg quote post Address this user
I've given this some thought and I have two hero's...

The first is my mom, who split with my father when I was 16... she did what she had to do, to raise my siblings and me... and she is a rock in my life.

The second was a manager of a factory where I worked... i started out working on the shop floor... he saw something in me and encouraged me to leave the shop floor and move in to the office... prior to him, I always thought I wasn't good enough and my place was on the shop floor.

Those are my own personal ones...
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@Steve

My dad was our rock. My mom left us when I was 16. Pop stayed and raised the rest of us. 3 siblings were gone and 3 remained.

I wish I had a manager I could point to
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I have two heroes,

The first, came about when I worked on night duty as a trained nurse back in the seventies. The Night sister, called me urgently to help her at the hospital front entrance. I watched her push her fingers into a babies throat and remove a dummy that had occluded the airway.
The little one was more dead than alive when he first arrived with Dad, in the wee small hours.
And that night his life was saved.

The second and on a totally different level is David Bowie, in fact he so affected me with his unusual evoking take on life, that I wrote a short story about him. If anyone would be interested in seeing that story, do let me know.
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@jgerk

David Bowie? Plz do share the story.
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Just to say there is a swear word,and that I wrote the tale to read as two young chaps.
Joy. MY HERO
By Joy M. Lilley

There are times in all our lives that remain special and never to be forgotten, and that time for me was when I first became aware of my hero, David Bowie.
When I was young, me and my friend Steve lived in Edinburgh. We lived in the same street and consequently went to the same school. We both had an exaggerated impression of who we were and how we looked. Looks were the most important factor of our lives back then, and we truly believed we were something rather special.
We had discovered that David Bowie was to appear on Top of The Pops. We used to watch Top of The Pops every Thursday night, on our black and white ‘tellies’. My mum and dad were the first in our street to get a colour T.V. so we were able to see him in glorious techni- colour. What a night that was.
He came onto the stage, making his first appearance and launching himself onto the British public as Ziggy Stardust. There was nothing spurious about him, as far as we were concerned. His skin was translucent, just like a china doll and the make-up, well there was something edifying about that. All colours imaginable adorned his hair and Ziggy strips shone on his beautiful face.
The way he dressed was magnificent and it sent shivers down my spine to see the whole slim-line package performing on the telly right before our eyes.
His guitarist Mick Ronson, sadly long since gone, walked onto the stage behind David; he then draped his arm around Mick Ronsons shoulder.
‘Nothing but a couple of poofs.’ said my dad.
I couldn’t be sure if he meant David and Mick or me and Steve. He came out with that statement every time he walked in the room if David was on the ‘telly’.
We didn’t know much about David in the early years it was now 1972 and although he had been around for some time, he was yet to make it into the big time.
It didn’t take long for Steve and me to realise that David swung both ways or at least wanted to give the impression he did.
Steve and me were still in the throes of discovering our own sexuality, and that first television appearance left us both very unsure and confused about who we were. So overwhelmed were we by this guy who looked so much like a woman. He dressed so weirdly and looking back I failed to understand how on earth he could have had such an effect on a couple of thirteen year olds. But he did, and that was that.

We loved the pop scene and would listen to our records for hours. Over and over again we played the single discs only afforded by our thriftiness in saving hard earned pocket money.
My dad never missed an opportunity to have a pop at David and kept on about him being a very strange guy, and nobody had any idea of who he really was.
So I asked him if he was really two people,
‘Is that what you mean, Dad not one.’
‘Yes son, one character masculine and the other a bit like a woman.’
Steve’s Dad had even more problems with it all than my father. He had no difficulty in showing his outrage for what he considered,
‘This gross creature adorning our televisions. Shouldn’t be allowed, it’s not decent, what is the B.B.C. coming to. I think I shall write and complain.’
Steve and me knew that barriers would be put in our way to curtail our newly found passion.
Our parents just could not come to terms with these modern changes in life.
To be honest we were quite pleased to be young and experiencing all these new phenomena. Can you imagine the excitement of a couple of plebs who did not fit into the mould our parents expected us to?
It seemed to give us a sense of control knowing that by watching something so cool and strange which also upset our parents, ticked all the boxes for Steve and me.
Not long after the first experience of seeing Ziggy,I went and got a Ziggy haircut. It was spiked on the top and it was coloured a sort of orange blonde. I needed to do everything in my control to get out of playing football, as I didn’t want to head the ball. That would have spoilt my intrepid hair style. I got into trouble for it too. The head master told me to get it put right and immediately or he would be speaking to my parents. Even this didn’t deter me from my mission, to follow the blueprint and vogue of David, for he was my hero.
The hard guys in my class, who liked Slade, used to shout at me,
‘Head the ball, you bloody poof.’
I remained unshaken. I even managed to persuade Steve to have a Ziggy haircut too; this sent his father into a blind panic.
One night when Steve and me were getting ready in his house to go to another David Bowie concert his father said to us,
‘You two are a pair of fucking poofs.’
Steve retaliated by saying,
‘That’s as maybe you sad old sod and what are you going to do about it.’
With that comment we made a dash for it or his old man would have grounded us both and that would have been the end of our night with ‘Ziggy’.
When the gig was over, which was as usual fantastic, Steve came back to mine as he was scared to go home and face his dad.
He did go home the next day only cos my mum made him, and he was right he got the thrashing of his life for his cheek and rudeness.
Some of the Bowie tracks I managed to buy had such an impact on me that the music gave me the permission I seemed to need to experience other types of music.
A particular track that influenced me was,
The width of a circle, a big swaggering, camp mystical underground type of song.
I would never have been into soul or country and western or any other musical genre had it not been for such titles as this.
By 1978 Steve and I began to go in different directions. Steve left Scotland for the South and went into the music business and has made a reasonable living from it, whereas I am just a regular Joe.
I went alone to see another Bowie concert, this time it was in Murray field.
It was pissing down with rain and Bowie came onto the stage in a white cagoule. You know I couldn’t help, but think how was it possible for someone to look so cool in a cagoule coming out to perform in front of an audience of fifteen thousand.
It could only be David Bowie.
I still have an eclectic taste in music and spend many hours listening to the radio or to my vast collection of C.D.’s. Sometimes I get out my old record player, a piece of a past I could not part with, and play the discs that over these many years have been lovingly treasured and preserved.
Looking back on the early seventies I relish the time when Steve and me had our first taste of something completely novel and unique, and discovered something of this man called David who had a major influence on both our lives.
Roger Lilley
October 2014.
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