Brent Madison was new to the neighborhood when he looked out his front window last year and saw the older man who lived across the street struggling to lift a heavy box into the trunk of his car. The 32-year-old independent film producer walked across the street and lifted it into the trunk for him.
“If you ever need anything, just call,” Madison said to Elliott Porter, 81. That call came two weeks ago while Madison was outside on his front lawn kicking the soccer ball around with his 4-year-old daughter, Dalia.
It wasn’t from Elliott. It was from his wife, Esther. She stumbled past the screen door and stepped outside her home on University Avenue in Burbank and frantically yelled, “Help, help, my husband can’t breathe!”
Inside, Elliott was starting to blackout. A chunk of the peanut butter sandwich he was eating for lunch had lodged in his throat. He was choking. Esther tried the Heimlich maneuver on him to dislodge the piece, but at 75 she just wasn’t strong enough. She called 911, then ran outside for help.
“I felt my life slipping away as I started to blackout,” Elliott said. “I just laid there choking, thinking I was going to die. Then, I felt these strong arms lift me up off the floor.”
As soon as Esther screamed, pleading for help, Brent sprinted across the street, leaving his little girl with his wife, who also called 911.
It had been 20 years since he sat in his fifth grade classroom during a Cub Scout meeting and watched paramedics teach his troop how to save a life using CPR and the Heimlich maneuver. At 12 he was certified in both. At 15 he was an Eagle Scout.
This would be the first time he turned that training into a real life-or-death situation. Would he remember how to do it properly? Too much pressure could cause serious damage to Elliott’s ribs. Too little could cost him his life.
Brent picked Elliott up from the floor and gave him a giant bear hug from behind, but not too tightly. It wasn’t working. Brent knew he had to amp it up, and fast. He squeezed his neighbor as hard as he could. Squeezed until he heard a gasp and precious air filling his lungs.
“He squeezed the life back into me,” Elliott said. “He saved me.”
When the paramedics arrived a few minutes later, they agreed. So did Burbank Mayor Jess Talamantes who this week presented Brent with a Certificate of Recognition for saving Elliott’s life.
The story should end there, but Elliott wouldn’t let it. Every time he looks out his front window and sees Brent playing soccer on the front lawn with his little girl, he knows he owes this man the extra years of life Brent gave him, to play with his grandchildren, to be there to watch them grow up. How do you ever repay that?
If Brent’s father hadn’t gotten his son into scouting when he was 5 and encouraged him to listen intently to the paramedics and earn his CPR and Heimlich training certificates — who would have answered Esther’s pleas?
Was there anyone else rushing into their home to save her husband? No, just the Eagle Scout across the street. A certificate from the mayor was a nice honor, but it would hang in a frame on a wall in the Madison home for few to see.
That just didn’t seem like enough recognition for what Brent Madison did.
“So many bad things appear in your newspaper everyday,” Elliott wrote the Los Angeles Daily News. “I hope you can find room to recognize him.”
We found it, Elliott. There’s always room in this newspaper for the winners out there. I promise you that.
Dennis McCarthy’s column runs on Sunday. He can be reached at dmccarthynews@gmail.com.