Days remaining to publication—5: The Murderer’s Daughters is a novel about Lulu and Merry, sisters who witness their father murder their mother and struggle with the aftermath for the next thirty years—always aware that someday he may be released from jail. Writers tell us stories, share their lives, provide hope and examine evil. I try to remember, as I get closer to my book releasing, of the importance of truth-telling. Miep Gies, who late in life wrote her story, died on Monday at age 100. Ms. Gies resisted the Nazi occupation of Holland and helped to hide Anne Frank, her family, and three other Jews during World War II. A true example of a quiet heroism, Miep Gies dismissed accolades, saying: “I am not a hero. I stand at the end of the long, long line of good Dutch people who did what I did or more—much more—during those dark and terrible times years ago, but always like yesterday in the hearts of those of us who bear witness. Never a day goes by that I do not think of what happened then. More than twenty thousand Dutch people helped to hide Jews and others in need of hiding during those years. I willingly did what I could to help. My husband did as well. It was not enough.” Those words are from the prologue of Anne Frank Remembered: The Story of the Woman Who Helped the Frank Family by Miep Gies with Alison Leslie Gold. Miep Gies’ bravery was recorded by history. She was an everyday hero—someone who saw injustice and need, and responded. The tragedy in Haiti points ever more poignantly at the amazing deeds of everyday heroes. Right now, somewhere in Haiti, selfless men and women are putting their lives at risk and sacrificing comfort, sleep, food, peace of mind and who knows what else to pull someone from rubble, to deliver a baby in the midst of wreckage, and to perform the horrifying task of dealing with dead bodies. Quiet and everyday heroes surround us.

I hope that all who can have made generous donations to help the relief efforts in Haiti—at times like this it’s often money that moves the mountains. I am amazed that agencies like Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders are just groups of individual men and women, who bandage the injured and drive trucks across rutted roads—offering their hands, their hearts, and their expertise, whether it be for stitching wounds or heaving sacks of ready-to-eat meals. Some seem born with the gene for quietly helping. Not all of it ends up in the press or in a book. In my own life, I laud my sister who spends days lugging food for abused and abandoned farm animals one day, and the next day goes to work in a church basement with lonely elderly people. My friends Diane and Mark provide a home for people traveling to Boston for health care not available where they live. My neighbors Alan and Rose recently biked countless hours to raise funds for fighting lung disease. Another neighbor, John, has dedicated endless hours and resources to renovating a residential home for kids at risk. Whether we perform our good deeds with the pen, strong muscles, or a welcoming house, the tragedy in Haiti reminds us to help, for we live together in a small world. In honor of Miep Gies, I like to remember the words of Anne Frank, “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death.”