This story is part of the My Unsung Hero series, from the Hidden Brain team. It features stories of people whose kindness left a lasting impression on someone else.
In 1989, Julia Weber was 22 years old, fresh out of college and living in the Bay Area of Northern California. One afternoon, she was walking from her job in downtown San Francisco to a nearby bus stop when the sidewalk began to shake.
"I thought immediately, 'Am I hallucinating? Is this just happening to me?'" Weber said. "And then I very quickly realized it was an earthquake, as windows were popping out of the tall buildings above me and glass was shattering all around me."
As Weber felt fear overtake her, she locked eyes with a nearby commuter.
"She was in a trench coat carrying a briefcase, and as the ground started moving, she took a step forward, this stranger, and put her arms around me, and I put my arms around her, and we just held each other while the horrors of the earthquake were happening all around us," Weber remembered.
After about 15 seconds, the ground stopped moving. Weber and the women released their embrace.
"And she looked at me and said, 'Are you OK?' And I said, 'Yes. Are you OK?' And she said, 'Yes.' And then we continued on our walk to our respective places."
When Weber eventually made it home, the gravity of the day set in.
"[I] realized how significant it was that she held me and I held her through [those] terrifying few moments when everything changed and the ground literally shifted beneath our feet."
Now, 35 years later, Weber often thinks about that woman who held her, and wonders if she thinks about her, too.
"I certainly have deep gratitude and appreciation for her presence, for her warmth, for her kindness and for the connection we were able to make during that very, very frightening moment."
My Unsung Hero is also a podcast — new episodes are released every Tuesday. To share the story of your unsung hero with the Hidden Brain team, record a voice memo on your phone and send it to myunsunghero@hiddenbrain.org.
Copyright 2025 NPR
