Unidentified Man #1: I believe in honor, faith and service.
Unidentified Woman #1: I believe that a little outrage can take you a long way.
Unidentified Man #2: I believe in freedom of speech.
Unidentified Woman #2: I believe in empathy.
RENEE MONTAGNE, host:
On Mondays, we bring you our series This I Believe, short statements of personal conviction from prominent people and from our listeners and citizens at large. Daniel Ferri teaches sixth grade at a middle school west of Chicago. He is one of more than 7,500 of you who have sent us essays. Here's our series curator, independent producer Jay Allison.
JAY ALLISON reporting:
In reading your essays, we find that moments of crisis often clarify belief. During Hurricane Katrina, Daniel Ferri had a crisis of his own far away from the storm, but he saw clearly that the belief that sustained him is the same one that people in trouble everywhere need to rely upon. Here is Daniel Ferri with his essay for This I Believe.
Mr. DANIEL FERRI: I believe in the kindness of strangers. I learned to believe this from a hurricane and a newborn baby boy. Our son Owen was born just as Hurricane Katrina approached the Gulf Coast. Two days later, as Katrina neared landfall, Owen began suffering seizures. He'd had a stroke. I didn't follow the catastrophe on the Gulf Coast as closely as I might have, but those weeks taught me some things about catastrophe and about the kindness of strangers.
All catastrophes are personal. Some in the Gulf Coast sought survival. Some sought to help others. Some prayed. Some preyed upon others. At the hospital, we watched our son Owen sleep. Despite the tubes dripping and the monitors beeping, he still slept his baby's sleep. My wife asked for the pastor. I asked for the doctor. She prayed for him. I held the CAT scan up to the light and searched for answers.
No one can know what you will feel or fear in a time of need, but I learned that in this, the most difficult time of my life, the people our family depended upon most were people we had never met, people whom we would likely never see again, strangers. We depended upon strangers, strangers who knew their duty was to help others. We depended upon the nurses who cared so well for our son, who cooed to him and caressed him, who watched me hold him through the night and never seemed to notice how ugly a man is when he cries. We depended upon the hostel that gave us a place to stay near the hospital, upon the members of my union who believed caring for our child's health should not ruin us, upon the doctors and clerks and ambulance drivers. We depended upon a commitment made to helping others. This commitment is a web that holds us together in times of need.
By the time we took Owen home, the worst effects of Katrina were evident. I watched the images from the Gulf Coast, images of communities, lives and families whose fabric had been torn apart. I thought of that web of strangers that had embraced my family in our time of need and that it is the most fortunate among us who are served best by it. I can only hope this web will be strong enough, that it will be spun wide, that it will hold and care for many that we can all depend upon the kindness of strangers.
ALLISON: Daniel Ferri with his essay for This I Believe. Owen's doctors, by the way, are encouraging about his progress. Ferri says, `He is doing better than we could have dared to hope.'
If there was a moment that forced you to think about what you believe in, we hope you will tell us about it. You can find out more about submitting your writing and hear all the essays in our series at our Web site, npr.org.
For This I Believe, I'm Jay Allison.
MONTAGNE: This weekend, you can find an essay from Jessica Zere(ph) of Grand Forks, North Dakota, in USA Weekend magazine, our print partner for This I Believe, and next Monday on "All Things Considered," an essay from USA Weekend reader Nancy Ushes(ph) of Avon, Massachusetts.
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