Luke Reynolds - Braver than I Thought: Real People. Real Courage. Real Hope.

Real People. Real Courage. Real Hope.

Braver than I Thought

Luke Reynolds

FOR MY FOUR SONS:

TYLER, BENJAMIN, JOSHUA, AND SAMUEL.

MAY YOU ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE

BRAVER THAN YOU THINK. AND MAY YOU HELP OTHERS

TO SEE THIS IN THEMSELVES TOO.

AND FOR JENNIFER REYNOLDS, ALWAYS AND EVERY WORD

THERE IS ALWAYS LIGHT, IF ONLY WERE BRAVE ENOUGH TO SEE IT, IF ONLY WERE BRAVE ENOUGH TO BE IT.

AMANDA GORMAN

INTRODUCTION

W hen I was eleven years old, my daily paper route was an essential part of my day. Delivering The Journal Inquirer newspaper was how I made money, and money was how I bought candy. End of story. But one spring day back in 1991, I walked up to one of the homes on my route and found a large German shepherd standing directly behind the screen door, staring penetratingly ahead.

Right at me.

Did I mention the German shepherd was large?

Let me modify that statement: the dog was huge.

Let me modify that modified statement: the dog was massively big.

Let me modify that modified statement one more time: the dog was a giant that existed, inexplicably, to bring terror to my eleven-year-old self.

And the dogs eyes said a lot to me that morning as I stopped dead in my tracks before the screen door.

What did the dogs eyes say? They said the following (I am quoting precisely):

I WILL EAT YOU FOR BREAKFAST, NEWSPAPER BOY. I WILL, I WILL, I WILL. EVEN THOUGH I HAVE ALREADY EATEN MY DOG FOOD BREAKFAST, YOU WILL BE MY PEOPLE-FOOD BREAKFAST. AND GUESS WHAT? IM THRILLED BY THIS PROSPECT. MY ONLY DILEMMA IS FIGURING OUT WHICH PART OF YOU TO EAT FIRST. BUT MAKE NO MISTAKE ABOUT IT: I AM A DOG. I AM A HUNGRY DOG. I AM A MASSIVE, GIANT, HUNGRY DOG, AND THERE YOU ARE, DROPPING ON MY DOORSTEP LIKE A LITTLE PACKAGE FOR MY ENJOYMENT. HA! HA! HA! YOU UNSUSPECTING PERSON-BOY! PREPARE TO MEET THE JAWS OF THIS GIANT DOG!

Hearing all of this (surprisingly well-spoken) dialogue from the dog before me was shocking. And even though the message in the dogs eyes made me want to throw my hands up, shout like crazy, and run for my life, fear kept me planted in place.

The dog and I stared at each other, locked in a gaze that neither of us could break (though, I suspect, for different reasons).

And then, I made the biggest mistake of my newspaper-boy life: I held out the newspaper to the dog.

What was I thinking, you ask?

Good question.

Here is what I was thinking, precisely:

Okay, Giant Dog of Great Power and Stature and Size, behold that I am a mere and lowly newspaper boy. I have neither fame nor fortune. In fact, I dont even have a bike that works well. Just the other day, my shoelace got caught in the rusty chain, pulling my leg down hard and giving me a big gash, which I would show you if I wasnt so afraid that the sight and smell of my dried blood would merely egg you on to want to eat me. Anyway. My point is that I dont have much right now, but I do have this newspaper. Thats all. I bring no harm. I bear no weapons (nor any ill will) toward you or the people who feed you and take care of you and left you, here, now, with a dangerously easy way to eat me if you decided to. So, I offer to you all that I have in this great big world, right here, right now. A newspaper. I offer it to you as a sign of peace, reconciliation, and hope that the two of us can become good friends, that we might see one another with a spark of camaraderie and kindness, perchance even affection, and that one day

CRASH! BANG! BAM! LEAP! LURCH! LUNGE! BITE!

While my own (logical and quite mature) thoughts were running, Giant Dog leaped through the screen door, smashing it wide open, and tackled me. His excessively long fangs sunk straight into my left inner thigh, mere millimeters from my yes from something that would have been even more excruciatingly painful than my left inner thigh.

I howled in pain.

Looking down at my leg, Giant Dog teeth were still firmly inside of it, and for that brief moment, I honestly thought I was going to die.

But the voice of an angelor of the beasts ownersaved me, and the dog suddenly released my leg from his fangs just as suddenly as he had leaped to grab hold of it.

As Giant Dog slowly backed away from me, I looked down at my leg in disbelief as I watched blood spurt out of me. Then the pain hit medeepbone deep.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on a medical table with one of those sheets of paper underneath me. I remember the crinkly sound it made as I shifted to figure out what was going on and thinking about whether Giant Dog was anywhere nearby to come for my other leg.

He was not. I was safe.

But needles and stitches would ensue, as well as embarrassment that the doctor who sewed me up was seeing me naked and bloody on butcher paper.

The stitches eventually came out, the wound healed, and now the only thing that remains of that experience is the scar.

And the story.

As I look back all these years later, I know my scar story taught me a lot of things. First, it taught me to be wary of Giant Dogs Left behind Screen Doors with Dangerous Paths to Newspaper Carriers. (This is the title of a to-be-written book where I will share, in much greater detail, how to protect against such dangers.)

Second, it taught me that a lifelong burden of fear is too high a price to pay. Yes, I went through many years where I was terrified of dogs (every dogexcept the tiny toy poodle we had as our own family pet). But then I slowly learned to see dogs as potential friends again and even began to greet dogs that Id come across in the world (though, to be honest, not those that stare at me from behind screens; Im still terrified of those). Essentially, the experience of my dog attack gave me an opportunity to learn to be brave with each new dog I met.

Third, it taught me that this world is full of wonderful people who are ready to help when they see suffering or pain or hurt. There was my friend Matt (who was visiting for the day and accompanied me on my route), who went and got my mom. There was my mom, who raced to Giant Dogs house in her minivan and rushed me to the walk-in clinic. There was the doctor who stitched up my leg. While there is so much pain and hurt all around us, and there are many who dont help, there are also many who do seek to provide care and comfort when they see pain.

Fourth, it helped me build resiliency. It taught me that even though skin and soul can appear fragile, they are also both strong. They can be healed after traumathey can regrow and reform after hurt.