September 12, 2026 • 10 mins
On this episode of Our American Stories, Lori Coan was on her second date with a boy she wasn’t sure about when something happened that would change her mind and her life. A group of troublemakers tripped a girl with polio, sending her sprawling in front of everyone. Most of the students laughed or looked away. Lori’s date didn’t. He jumped up, helped the girl to her feet, and gave her dignity back in a moment when she had been robbed of it.
To Lori, that simple act of courage said more than words ever could. That boy would later become her husband, and together they would build a marriage lasting over fifty years. What began as a small act of kindness in a high school cafeteria became a lifelong partnership built on respect, compassion, and strength. We'd like to thank our regular contributor, Leslie Leyland Fields, for giving us the lead on this story.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:10):
This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories.
Up next, a story from Lori Cohen about how she
met the love of her life. Lori is a writing
student of our frequent contributor, Leslie Leland Fields, and we
thank her for turning us on to this story.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
Take it away, Lori. In 1972, The cafeteria of the
high school was loud, always with an undercurrent of muffled conversations,
high-pitched squeals of newly pubescent girls, and the scraping of
(00:49):
aluminum chair feet across the linoleum floor. There lies in
my brain the familiar sounds and smells of the cafeteria.
those pistachio-colored plastic lunch trays with their tidy compartments clattered
as students smacked them forcefully against the large trash can
(01:10):
to collect the remains of our pizza burgers paired oddly
with corn and orange jello salad. I was about to
have my first public date with the senior of my dreams.
As a sophomore, my pulse raced and my stomach fluttered
in anticipation of our time together. Me was a senior.
(01:35):
Through mutual friends, we met on a blind date the
previous weekend. Not having much experience with upperclassmen, I did
my due diligence by stalking him in the hallways before
our date. When I first met him coming out of
a classroom, I thought to myself, not my type. I
(01:55):
was used to choosing my dates by how much they
resembled the 1970s rock stars I admired, with long hair
and those who carried themselves with that bad boy swagger.
But after the date, I had to say there was
just something about him. I eagerly accepted his lunch date
(02:20):
for the following week. He was clean-cut, perhaps shorter than me,
wearing white Adidas sneakers with red stripes paired with cuffed
straight-leg navy pants and a button-down light blue shirt cuffed
at his wrists. He sported the ever-stylish Rods belt, smartly
(02:44):
displaying the classic shotgun shell at the buckle. As I
looked down at my hip-hugger bell-bottoms, enhanced by my friend's
sewing skills, reframed with Indian-themed cloth, expanding them to the
appropriate elephant bell size. My white knit bodysuit and my
grandfather's oversized plaid shirt. I thought, well, might as well
(03:09):
try something different. I was hoping that my hesitation and
his wholesomeness might turn out to be unfounded. As we
carried our lunches to a nearby table, a group of loud,
rowdy kids was congregating. One of the boys nodded toward
(03:32):
me as I passed by. How do you know those guys?
Gary asked as we scooted out the chairs at the
lunch table. They hang out with Steve, I said. I
more intimately knew them to be my brother's druggie friends.
We were sitting at a table that was parallel to
the exit of the lunch line, giving us an unobstructed
(03:55):
view of the entire cafeteria. We watched as this one
girl made her way through the line, pistachio-colored tray in
her hand. She turned to find a seat after paying
the lunch ladies, and as she did, She skirted the
table near the group of rowdy boys who were acting
out by indiscriminately yelling random things at those passing by
(04:20):
and punching on each other. I didn't know the girl,
but had seen her in the hallways, as had everyone,
I guess. She kept her herself for the most part.
Rarely did she make eye contact as she limped along,
always close to the wall for support, dragging her leg
(04:43):
behind her because of the clamps. I later found out
she was one of the few remaining people our age
who had, in fact, gotten polio as a child. While
I'm ashamed of this now, and I don't believe it
was on purpose, at least for most of us in
high school at the time, we just didn't go out
(05:05):
of our way to befriend her. In fact, we didn't
really acknowledge her at all. Selfish in the narcissism of adolescence,
I'm sure now that our lack of empathy left her
feeling perpetually isolated and different. Whether it was deliberate or not,
(05:28):
we may never know for sure, but as the girl
exited the lunch line and neared the boy's table, Bruce,
my brother's friend, stuck his long legs out in the
middle of the aisle, tripping on it. With great fanfare,
the food careened upwards, pizza burger flipping over in the
(05:48):
air as if in a trapeze act, and landing with
a splat on top of the gyrating orange jello salad. Suddenly,
all the background noise in the crowded cafeteria came to
an abrupt stop. As the girl fell to the floor,
(06:08):
the corn sprinkled unceremoniously amongst her ringlets, landing against her
upturned face. It seemed that everyone in the cafeteria had
heard the commotion and the clattering of the lunch tray,
and they turned to stare at her in dead silence.
As the sound returned to the cafeteria, I remember hearing
(06:32):
the slow rising roar of awkward laughter. Bruce, the one
culpable for the mishap, was standing, clapping, pointing with the light, shouting,
she's down, she's down. I sat with my own pizza burger, paralyzed,
(06:52):
trying not to stare. It was then that it happened.
Gary Rose looked at me and said, be right back.
Just like that. This clean-cut man-child with his Adidas sneakers,
button-down shirt, and rods belt left our table as if
(07:15):
he had been summoned by an unspoken call of duty.
He grabbed a handful of napkins and bent down in
front of the girl. He gently wiped the food off
her brow. He cupped her face with both hands and
with his thumbs wiped the tears from her eyes. Supporting
(07:37):
her by her arms, he helped her stand up and
carefully walked with her to the safety of a more
private corner. He spoke quietly next to her as they walked.
I couldn't hear what he was saying, but she was
looking gratefully up at him and she smiled at his words.
(07:57):
Then he went back through the lunch line to replace
her meal. He carried the lunch out into the cafeteria
in silence. While I'm not sure of the others in
the room, my eyes were solely focused on him. He
brought the girl for lunch, bent down, and spoke quietly
(08:19):
in her ear again as she smiled and nodded. He
stood and lasered his sight on the offending group of
boys who had gone back to their loud and rowdy behaviors.
He walked quickly and directly, which caused most of the
group to step back. He grabbed Bruce by the front
of his shirt in a fist, forcing their faces only
(08:41):
inches apart. There was no yelling. Because he spoke so
calmly and quietly, I'll never know what was said in
that moment. Yet, I was able to see Bruce's face pale,
and the rest of the group of his peers suddenly
just walked away. Gary released him, and Bruce sat there,
(09:03):
now alone and quiet. Gary then looked directly at the
girl eating her lunch and gave her a quick nod
of his head. Again, she smiled at him. He turned
then and sat down next to me saying, how's the
pizza burger? And gave me a wink. In that moment,
(09:24):
I said to myself, I'm going to marry this boy.
I was 15 at the time. We've had 54 years
together since that day when two girls in the cafeteria
needed a hero and found one.
Speaker 1 (09:44):
And a special thanks to Lori Cohen for sharing this
story about how she met the love of her life. Where, when,
and why. And what a story Lori told. And we've
all been there in high school. I love the way
she described that. meal on that pistachio plastic tray, a
pizza burger, corn, and an orange jello salad. Sounds great.
(10:09):
And well, she talked about this young girl who suffered
from polio and how she regrets that she didn't go
out of her way to befriend her or to reach
out to her at all. And then came that agonizing
act of cruelty by Bruce tripping this young girl. And
what happens? That boy named Gary just immediately gets up
(10:29):
as if summoned by some unspoken call of duty. And
Laurie thinking, I'm going to marry that boy someday. 54
years later, married. The story of the cafeteria hero who
won Laurie Cohen's heart. Here on Our American Stories.
This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories.
Up next, a story from Lori Cohen about how she
met the love of her life. Lori is a writing
student of our frequent contributor, Leslie Leland Fields, and we
thank her for turning us on to this story.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
Take it away, Lori. In 1972, The cafeteria of the
high school was loud, always with an undercurrent of muffled conversations,
high-pitched squeals of newly pubescent girls, and the scraping of
(00:49):
aluminum chair feet across the linoleum floor. There lies in
my brain the familiar sounds and smells of the cafeteria.
those pistachio-colored plastic lunch trays with their tidy compartments clattered
as students smacked them forcefully against the large trash can
(01:10):
to collect the remains of our pizza burgers paired oddly
with corn and orange jello salad. I was about to
have my first public date with the senior of my dreams.
As a sophomore, my pulse raced and my stomach fluttered
in anticipation of our time together. Me was a senior.
(01:35):
Through mutual friends, we met on a blind date the
previous weekend. Not having much experience with upperclassmen, I did
my due diligence by stalking him in the hallways before
our date. When I first met him coming out of
a classroom, I thought to myself, not my type. I
(01:55):
was used to choosing my dates by how much they
resembled the 1970s rock stars I admired, with long hair
and those who carried themselves with that bad boy swagger.
But after the date, I had to say there was
just something about him. I eagerly accepted his lunch date
(02:20):
for the following week. He was clean-cut, perhaps shorter than me,
wearing white Adidas sneakers with red stripes paired with cuffed
straight-leg navy pants and a button-down light blue shirt cuffed
at his wrists. He sported the ever-stylish Rods belt, smartly
(02:44):
displaying the classic shotgun shell at the buckle. As I
looked down at my hip-hugger bell-bottoms, enhanced by my friend's
sewing skills, reframed with Indian-themed cloth, expanding them to the
appropriate elephant bell size. My white knit bodysuit and my
grandfather's oversized plaid shirt. I thought, well, might as well
(03:09):
try something different. I was hoping that my hesitation and
his wholesomeness might turn out to be unfounded. As we
carried our lunches to a nearby table, a group of loud,
rowdy kids was congregating. One of the boys nodded toward
(03:32):
me as I passed by. How do you know those guys?
Gary asked as we scooted out the chairs at the
lunch table. They hang out with Steve, I said. I
more intimately knew them to be my brother's druggie friends.
We were sitting at a table that was parallel to
the exit of the lunch line, giving us an unobstructed
(03:55):
view of the entire cafeteria. We watched as this one
girl made her way through the line, pistachio-colored tray in
her hand. She turned to find a seat after paying
the lunch ladies, and as she did, She skirted the
table near the group of rowdy boys who were acting
out by indiscriminately yelling random things at those passing by
(04:20):
and punching on each other. I didn't know the girl,
but had seen her in the hallways, as had everyone,
I guess. She kept her herself for the most part.
Rarely did she make eye contact as she limped along,
always close to the wall for support, dragging her leg
(04:43):
behind her because of the clamps. I later found out
she was one of the few remaining people our age
who had, in fact, gotten polio as a child. While
I'm ashamed of this now, and I don't believe it
was on purpose, at least for most of us in
high school at the time, we just didn't go out
(05:05):
of our way to befriend her. In fact, we didn't
really acknowledge her at all. Selfish in the narcissism of adolescence,
I'm sure now that our lack of empathy left her
feeling perpetually isolated and different. Whether it was deliberate or not,
(05:28):
we may never know for sure, but as the girl
exited the lunch line and neared the boy's table, Bruce,
my brother's friend, stuck his long legs out in the
middle of the aisle, tripping on it. With great fanfare,
the food careened upwards, pizza burger flipping over in the
(05:48):
air as if in a trapeze act, and landing with
a splat on top of the gyrating orange jello salad. Suddenly,
all the background noise in the crowded cafeteria came to
an abrupt stop. As the girl fell to the floor,
(06:08):
the corn sprinkled unceremoniously amongst her ringlets, landing against her
upturned face. It seemed that everyone in the cafeteria had
heard the commotion and the clattering of the lunch tray,
and they turned to stare at her in dead silence.
As the sound returned to the cafeteria, I remember hearing
(06:32):
the slow rising roar of awkward laughter. Bruce, the one
culpable for the mishap, was standing, clapping, pointing with the light, shouting,
she's down, she's down. I sat with my own pizza burger, paralyzed,
(06:52):
trying not to stare. It was then that it happened.
Gary Rose looked at me and said, be right back.
Just like that. This clean-cut man-child with his Adidas sneakers,
button-down shirt, and rods belt left our table as if
(07:15):
he had been summoned by an unspoken call of duty.
He grabbed a handful of napkins and bent down in
front of the girl. He gently wiped the food off
her brow. He cupped her face with both hands and
with his thumbs wiped the tears from her eyes. Supporting
(07:37):
her by her arms, he helped her stand up and
carefully walked with her to the safety of a more
private corner. He spoke quietly next to her as they walked.
I couldn't hear what he was saying, but she was
looking gratefully up at him and she smiled at his words.
(07:57):
Then he went back through the lunch line to replace
her meal. He carried the lunch out into the cafeteria
in silence. While I'm not sure of the others in
the room, my eyes were solely focused on him. He
brought the girl for lunch, bent down, and spoke quietly
(08:19):
in her ear again as she smiled and nodded. He
stood and lasered his sight on the offending group of
boys who had gone back to their loud and rowdy behaviors.
He walked quickly and directly, which caused most of the
group to step back. He grabbed Bruce by the front
of his shirt in a fist, forcing their faces only
(08:41):
inches apart. There was no yelling. Because he spoke so
calmly and quietly, I'll never know what was said in
that moment. Yet, I was able to see Bruce's face pale,
and the rest of the group of his peers suddenly
just walked away. Gary released him, and Bruce sat there,
(09:03):
now alone and quiet. Gary then looked directly at the
girl eating her lunch and gave her a quick nod
of his head. Again, she smiled at him. He turned
then and sat down next to me saying, how's the
pizza burger? And gave me a wink. In that moment,
(09:24):
I said to myself, I'm going to marry this boy.
I was 15 at the time. We've had 54 years
together since that day when two girls in the cafeteria
needed a hero and found one.
Speaker 1 (09:44):
And a special thanks to Lori Cohen for sharing this
story about how she met the love of her life. Where, when,
and why. And what a story Lori told. And we've
all been there in high school. I love the way
she described that. meal on that pistachio plastic tray, a
pizza burger, corn, and an orange jello salad. Sounds great.
(10:09):
And well, she talked about this young girl who suffered
from polio and how she regrets that she didn't go
out of her way to befriend her or to reach
out to her at all. And then came that agonizing
act of cruelty by Bruce tripping this young girl. And
what happens? That boy named Gary just immediately gets up
(10:29):
as if summoned by some unspoken call of duty. And
Laurie thinking, I'm going to marry that boy someday. 54
years later, married. The story of the cafeteria hero who
won Laurie Cohen's heart. Here on Our American Stories.
Host
Lee Habeeb
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