ER Nurse Chips Through 6 Inches of Ice for Wheelchair Users

Brad Stone knows what happens when wheelchair users are forced into snow-covered streets. As an ER nurse, he's seen the worst-case scenarios when snowplows don't spot them in time.

That's why he spent his day off attacking a treacherous stretch of Marion Street in Somerville, Massachusetts with a shovel and pure determination. The sidewalk hasn't been cleared in weeks because the building behind it caught fire in early December, leaving no one responsible for the path.

"I would say probably six inches of pure ice, and then on top of that is another inch or two or three of snow," Stone said. But he kept going, one painful chip at a time.

His motivation runs deeper than civic duty. Stone's father is an Army veteran now battling muscular dystrophy from a wheelchair. His nephew faces the same disease.

"He was of able body, and now if you were to see him, it's pretty sad. He can't pick his hands above his head," Stone said about his father. His friend Ben, also a wheelchair user, lives in the neighborhood and struggles with this exact stretch of sidewalk.

The building behind the ice-covered path sits empty after a devastating fire that required an Eversource worker to rescue someone trapped on a balcony using a bucket truck. The property owner exists somewhere, Stone figures, but they're likely dealing with the aftermath of losing their building.

Stone isn't waiting for someone else to solve the problem. "I guess there is an owner somewhere, but I think they are going through a pretty rough time," he said, literally picking up the slack during their crisis.

Sunny's Take

What makes this story shine isn't just one person's kindness. It's how personal experience transforms into community action. Stone sees his father's struggle every day. He's held the hands of families who've lost loved ones in preventable accidents. That pain could have made him bitter, but instead it made him grab a shovel.

His hope is simple: maybe neighbors will see what he's doing and pitch in with a few spare minutes. "Even if they don't, I will still do it," Stone said. That's the kind of quiet heroism that keeps communities safe, one exhausting scoop at a time.

Sometimes the path forward requires someone willing to break through the ice first.