DMN Feature Article
Friday, January 26, 2007
Dallas: Exhibit of girl's work will benefit fund in her memory
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Katie Bolka saw an expressive world around her.
The faces she captured with paintbrush, pen and charcoal are intense and emotional. Each image tells of a moment in time during her short life.
On Feb. 3 the public will get a look into the mind of an emotional, innately talented teenager. The Al-So Gallery in downtown Dallas will host an exhibit of the Ursuline Academy student's work. Twenty pieces of mixed media will be on display through Feb. 17.
"I wanted to do this show to honor her talent, because it was true. She could have taken this talent and done so many things," said gallery director Mary Tomás.
Katherine Bolka died June 5 at age 17 after being in a coma for 5 ½ days after a car accident.
Proceeds from the sale of prints and posters of her work will go to a scholarship fund in her name. The Katherine Bolka Endowed Scholarship for Academic and Visual Arts Excellence fund has received gifts and pledges from 300 donors, collecting more than $260,000 so far.
"As a parent, you never want your child to be forgotten," Johna Bolka said of her daughter, "Katie Bug."
The Bolkas are hoping that Katie, like many great artists before her, will be remembered through her work as well as the fund.
Her images are unlikely to be forgotten. She had a way of capturing moments in time through people's expressions, including her own.
"It's really hard to capture the likeness of people," Ms. Tomás said. But Katie did naturally.
"You don't just get that casually. That means you have an artistic soul. You can connect to somebody in that intimate way."
The expression on Katie's face in her self-portrait is intense yet submissive. Her piercing blue eyes draw an observer into the painting.
"The look on her face is very arresting," said Ms. Tomás, who is also a family friend. "It almost tells the story of this beautiful girl who she was."
In the portrait the young artist's innate sense of color can be seen. Ms. Tomás said it takes some artists years to understand color and the balance between warm and cool.
Katie just had that special quality that can't be learned. It's a quality that is expressed from within, she said.
In a journal, Katie wrote: "My emotions grow inside of me, and I put it in my art journal. I guess you could say my emotions are my art."
While much of her work reflects her more intense, thoughtful side, some of it hints at her playful qualities reminiscent of the 17-year-old she was.
Katie's talent can be seen early on in a black charcoal drawing she did when she was 9. Mary is a solemn profile sketch of a woman garnishing a gold light above her head.
Along with friends, her sister Nina, 15, was a subject of hers. A sketch of Nina will be on display.
Nina, an accomplished high school thespian, had a special insight into her sister's work. Katie often shared her feelings with her sibling.
In a watercolor, Katie wrote down the arm of a girl, "I'm so glad I'm an island."
"When I asked her what that meant, she said she was glad she wasn't like anyone else," Nina said, adding that her sister wasn't a part of any particular clique. Katie befriended everyone and appreciated the differences among them, she said.
Among the 20 pieces of Katie's work included on display is a piece called My future, a newspaper collage and painting on cardboard with faces in balloons, including the face of Osama bin Laden. A girl is holding the balloons, one of which has a dollar sign.
Katie's art teacher still gets chills when she looks at Katie R, a portrait of one of Katie's friends.
"She was a prolific painter," her teacher Linda McCall said. "With that painting, she just nailed it."
An unfinished acrylic of a girl sitting near an open window, crouched on the floor, bears the title Unfinished girl, just like Katie, her mother, Johna, has said.
Her father, Rick, said Katie was headstrong and had an edginess about her that can be seen in much of her work.
"Katie was one tough little girl," he said. "She was a force to be reckoned with."
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
DMN: 'Whose Cat Have You Kicked?'
DMN Op/Ed Column
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Little interactions can change the course of your day, says MIKKI KIRBY, so make sure it's for the better.
I walked out of Hamm's Custom Meats in downtown McKinney recently giggling at the absurdity of the situation I had just encountered.
A friend had heard that the honey-baked ham at the meat market is uncontested. So she and I went in to buy one. Hamm's doesn't take credit cards, and I had no cash or check.
"That's OK, honey," the pleasant lady behind the counter said. "You can just mail me a check. Take the ham."
My instinct was to look at my friend to ensure I didn't misunderstand the lady. Her reaction was the same.
"You're kidding, right?" my friend Leslie responded, perplexed.
But she wasn't. "Honey, if you go home happy with a ham to feed your family, I don't care about the money," the lady replied.
This simple gesture got me thinking. There are people out there in our everyday lives who believe in human decency. These people epitomize what Charles Dickens wrote in A Christmas Carol: "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."
There are nice people still left in the world. We just have to take notice.
But it seems we take more from our encounters with miserable people: the rude, overwhelmed checkout girl; the angry driver who cut us off with the wave of a middle finger; the testy hostess in the Santa hat who ignored our wishes for nonsmoking.
Motivational speaker Zig Ziglar has based a speech on the question, whose cat have you kicked today? It's a simple theory that how we treat each other affects more than just the person we encounter. The way we treat one another changes the context of our attitudes. It changes the quality of our lives.
Say you are having a bad day, namely because of the angry driver who cut you off on your way to the office. You take it out on your secretary – who, by the way, was having a perfectly nice day before you walked in. She in turn takes it out on the delivery guy, who then takes it out on his son, who then takes it out on his cat. There is a chain reaction.
Mr. Ziglar then asks, "Why not turn it around by being nice?" Spread love, instead of discontent.
Take Jerry Click of the Garland Fire Department, for example. For the past 20 some-odd years, he has headed up the fire association's annual holiday shopping spree for underprivileged children. Witnessing him in action will make you stop and think about the way you treat people.
I can't imagine even Ebenezer Scrooge crossing his path without leaving him with a smile. He's jovial and complementary, and for no other reason than he means it. And he doesn't hesitate to share it.
Mr. Click has a reason to be in a bad mood this time of year. He spends most of his time worrying about the children who didn't get a chance to buy Christmas gifts because they were left off his list.
He was bogged down with regret at this year's event because he forgot to check in on one family who didn't make it. But you would have never known. He greeted each child and their families with genuine enthusiasm and gentleness.
"I should have gone by and picked them up," he said while monitoring the door at Target in Garland, looking for the family. A slight furl on his brow was the only sign of his unhappiness.
When that family arrived late, you would have sworn they had just presented him with a check for $1 million dollars. I'm guessing that family spent the day being nice to others. How could they help it?
For a morning, they were wrapped in love by a simple gesture of concern from a sweet man.
Isn't that nice?
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer. Her e-mail address is mikkikirby@yahoo.com.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Little interactions can change the course of your day, says MIKKI KIRBY, so make sure it's for the better.
I walked out of Hamm's Custom Meats in downtown McKinney recently giggling at the absurdity of the situation I had just encountered.
A friend had heard that the honey-baked ham at the meat market is uncontested. So she and I went in to buy one. Hamm's doesn't take credit cards, and I had no cash or check.
"That's OK, honey," the pleasant lady behind the counter said. "You can just mail me a check. Take the ham."
My instinct was to look at my friend to ensure I didn't misunderstand the lady. Her reaction was the same.
"You're kidding, right?" my friend Leslie responded, perplexed.
But she wasn't. "Honey, if you go home happy with a ham to feed your family, I don't care about the money," the lady replied.
This simple gesture got me thinking. There are people out there in our everyday lives who believe in human decency. These people epitomize what Charles Dickens wrote in A Christmas Carol: "I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year."
There are nice people still left in the world. We just have to take notice.
But it seems we take more from our encounters with miserable people: the rude, overwhelmed checkout girl; the angry driver who cut us off with the wave of a middle finger; the testy hostess in the Santa hat who ignored our wishes for nonsmoking.
Motivational speaker Zig Ziglar has based a speech on the question, whose cat have you kicked today? It's a simple theory that how we treat each other affects more than just the person we encounter. The way we treat one another changes the context of our attitudes. It changes the quality of our lives.
Say you are having a bad day, namely because of the angry driver who cut you off on your way to the office. You take it out on your secretary – who, by the way, was having a perfectly nice day before you walked in. She in turn takes it out on the delivery guy, who then takes it out on his son, who then takes it out on his cat. There is a chain reaction.
Mr. Ziglar then asks, "Why not turn it around by being nice?" Spread love, instead of discontent.
Take Jerry Click of the Garland Fire Department, for example. For the past 20 some-odd years, he has headed up the fire association's annual holiday shopping spree for underprivileged children. Witnessing him in action will make you stop and think about the way you treat people.
I can't imagine even Ebenezer Scrooge crossing his path without leaving him with a smile. He's jovial and complementary, and for no other reason than he means it. And he doesn't hesitate to share it.
Mr. Click has a reason to be in a bad mood this time of year. He spends most of his time worrying about the children who didn't get a chance to buy Christmas gifts because they were left off his list.
He was bogged down with regret at this year's event because he forgot to check in on one family who didn't make it. But you would have never known. He greeted each child and their families with genuine enthusiasm and gentleness.
"I should have gone by and picked them up," he said while monitoring the door at Target in Garland, looking for the family. A slight furl on his brow was the only sign of his unhappiness.
When that family arrived late, you would have sworn they had just presented him with a check for $1 million dollars. I'm guessing that family spent the day being nice to others. How could they help it?
For a morning, they were wrapped in love by a simple gesture of concern from a sweet man.
Isn't that nice?
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer. Her e-mail address is mikkikirby@yahoo.com.
Friday, January 19, 2007
DMN: Remembering My Nephew
DMN Essay
Thursday, October 19, 2006
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Seven years ago I assured my nephew that I would write an article about him. He was set to make an impact on the high school football field.
At 12, Blake had the physique of a teenager. And a football was always under his arm.
"You stay on track, and I'm going to write a front-page story on you one day," I said, laughing and messing his hair.
It was the last thing I ever said to him.
Four years passed before I would see him again, this final time looking at his lifeless, hulking 17-year-old body draped in his football jersey, lying in a casket.
He had been riding in a car with friends on their way to a party after a football game. The car flipped over. There was no bad weather that day. No alcohol involved. It was one of those freak accidents.
Hovering over his corpse, I apologized to him for never fulfilling my promise.
When my sister called me last October, two weeks after the second anniversary of his death, she wanted to share stories. We sat over lunch, and we cried.
She shared incredible stories of the compassion she has felt from the community of Mesquite, the 100 or so kids who lined her lawn in a candlelight vigil the night of the anniversary.
She wanted to share with me the impact I had on him.
"He always said, 'I'm getting a football scholarship to the Florida State University. And I'm going live with my Aunt Mikki,' " she said, clutching his picture.
Distance prevented me from making the time to spend with him. I was in Florida, then Colorado; he was in Texas. She told me how attached he was to an FSU baseball hat I had given him when he was 12. He was so attached to that hat that when it fell apart from wear, he cut out the logo and kept it on his dresser.
"I told him when I gave him that hat I expected him to be on the FSU field in 2004," I told my sister. "I told him I would write about his skills but also about what an amazing kid I knew he was."
She told me, "It's time for you to write that story."
But when he died the fall of his junior year, that story lost its life. That story wouldn't have expressed the story of who he was.
Sure, I suspect I would have written about the number of tackles he had, his work ethic on and off the field and how each of his teammates at Mesquite Horn High School looked up to him.
Now the story can be told at the expense of his precious life.
Blake Wayne Lindsey was so well-liked that close to 2,500 people crowded the funeral home on Oct. 20, 2003. A sea of red football jerseys trembled and wept.
Blake was so compassionate and friendly that each week someone leaves a note, a flower or a memento on his grave still three years later. He was so full of love that friends call his mother on Mother's Day, holidays and his birthday to express empathy for her loss.
He made such an impact on adults and teenagers that messages continue to be left on www.legacy .com, a memorial site.
One entry from a former coach reads, "Friday night football is here, and with it I feel you around me. Your love of the game goes through me more and more."
I'm sure in his innocence he had no idea the impact he had on people who crossed his path. I only wish I knew what that hat would have meant for his life and college football today.
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Thursday, October 19, 2006
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Seven years ago I assured my nephew that I would write an article about him. He was set to make an impact on the high school football field.
At 12, Blake had the physique of a teenager. And a football was always under his arm.
"You stay on track, and I'm going to write a front-page story on you one day," I said, laughing and messing his hair.
It was the last thing I ever said to him.
Four years passed before I would see him again, this final time looking at his lifeless, hulking 17-year-old body draped in his football jersey, lying in a casket.
He had been riding in a car with friends on their way to a party after a football game. The car flipped over. There was no bad weather that day. No alcohol involved. It was one of those freak accidents.
Hovering over his corpse, I apologized to him for never fulfilling my promise.
When my sister called me last October, two weeks after the second anniversary of his death, she wanted to share stories. We sat over lunch, and we cried.
She shared incredible stories of the compassion she has felt from the community of Mesquite, the 100 or so kids who lined her lawn in a candlelight vigil the night of the anniversary.
She wanted to share with me the impact I had on him.
"He always said, 'I'm getting a football scholarship to the Florida State University. And I'm going live with my Aunt Mikki,' " she said, clutching his picture.
Distance prevented me from making the time to spend with him. I was in Florida, then Colorado; he was in Texas. She told me how attached he was to an FSU baseball hat I had given him when he was 12. He was so attached to that hat that when it fell apart from wear, he cut out the logo and kept it on his dresser.
"I told him when I gave him that hat I expected him to be on the FSU field in 2004," I told my sister. "I told him I would write about his skills but also about what an amazing kid I knew he was."
She told me, "It's time for you to write that story."
But when he died the fall of his junior year, that story lost its life. That story wouldn't have expressed the story of who he was.
Sure, I suspect I would have written about the number of tackles he had, his work ethic on and off the field and how each of his teammates at Mesquite Horn High School looked up to him.
Now the story can be told at the expense of his precious life.
Blake Wayne Lindsey was so well-liked that close to 2,500 people crowded the funeral home on Oct. 20, 2003. A sea of red football jerseys trembled and wept.
Blake was so compassionate and friendly that each week someone leaves a note, a flower or a memento on his grave still three years later. He was so full of love that friends call his mother on Mother's Day, holidays and his birthday to express empathy for her loss.
He made such an impact on adults and teenagers that messages continue to be left on www.legacy .com, a memorial site.
One entry from a former coach reads, "Friday night football is here, and with it I feel you around me. Your love of the game goes through me more and more."
I'm sure in his innocence he had no idea the impact he had on people who crossed his path. I only wish I knew what that hat would have meant for his life and college football today.
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
DMN: Beyond Generosity
DMN Op/Ed Column
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Mikki Kirby: Beyond generosity
Man's work is gift of love for families of disabled people
There is nothing sweeter than watching my niece succeed at something. Like any proud aunt, I relish in her accomplishments.
But being Tobi's aunt is truly special. Twenty-seven years ago, our family was blessed with a premature baby. She came four months early with developmental disabilities. I was four years old and eager to play with my new toy that came in a two-pound bundle. It took her three months to leave the hospital after a series of surgeries to save her life, including heart surgery.
Because she couldn't wait to come into the world, I have had the privilege of knowing many other people with special needs and the people who love them.
When I met Charles Fletcher last October, it was an instant bond. People who have been touched by a relationship with someone with disabilities recognize that within one another.
Mr. Fletcher started SpiritHorse Therapeutic Riding Center nearly four years ago. He says he was called to it after spending time with disabled children while volunteering at Equest Therapeutic Sportsmanship riding center in Wylie.
"Your life changes and everything comes into perspective after you know these children," Mr. Fletcher said recently at a horseback riding lesson with my niece. He turned his ranch in Corinth into a free riding center after he got that perspective.
With Tobi's needs come many days of frustration and fear and sadness. She suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder, which often drags her into depression and worry.
We as a family hang on to the days when she is feeling well and full of smiles and pride. On Tuesdays at SpiritHorse we get to enjoy that side of her.
Imagine a day in the life of Charles Fletcher, who trains more than 300 disabled children to ride horses each week.
"When children are here, they are not their disability," he says. "They experience things they knew they could do but people told them they couldn't."
When she was born, doctors told us that Tobi would not run, read or write. She does all those things thanks to my courageous sister, who has consistently pushed the envelope. It was decided that Tobi would determine what Tobi could accomplish.
But without people like Mr. Fletcher, many disabled children would never know they could ride a horse or, for that matter, even speak.
A majority of his riders have autism, a neurological disorder that affects the normal functioning of the brain, impacting development in the areas of social interaction and communication skills.
Mr. Fletcher doesn't accept the word "can't." In turn, he has witnessed a couple dozen children speak their first words on a horse. Research shows that horseback riding is an incredible therapy for autism and other disabilities.
"In the beginning, I asked God to make me comfortable with the children. Instead He made me love them," Mr. Fletcher said.
Just think – he spends almost every day relishing in their accomplishments. I'm glad he's there to enjoy Tobi's when I am not. He deserves it.
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Mikki Kirby: Beyond generosity
Man's work is gift of love for families of disabled people
There is nothing sweeter than watching my niece succeed at something. Like any proud aunt, I relish in her accomplishments.
But being Tobi's aunt is truly special. Twenty-seven years ago, our family was blessed with a premature baby. She came four months early with developmental disabilities. I was four years old and eager to play with my new toy that came in a two-pound bundle. It took her three months to leave the hospital after a series of surgeries to save her life, including heart surgery.
Because she couldn't wait to come into the world, I have had the privilege of knowing many other people with special needs and the people who love them.
When I met Charles Fletcher last October, it was an instant bond. People who have been touched by a relationship with someone with disabilities recognize that within one another.
Mr. Fletcher started SpiritHorse Therapeutic Riding Center nearly four years ago. He says he was called to it after spending time with disabled children while volunteering at Equest Therapeutic Sportsmanship riding center in Wylie.
"Your life changes and everything comes into perspective after you know these children," Mr. Fletcher said recently at a horseback riding lesson with my niece. He turned his ranch in Corinth into a free riding center after he got that perspective.
With Tobi's needs come many days of frustration and fear and sadness. She suffers from obsessive compulsive disorder, which often drags her into depression and worry.
We as a family hang on to the days when she is feeling well and full of smiles and pride. On Tuesdays at SpiritHorse we get to enjoy that side of her.
Imagine a day in the life of Charles Fletcher, who trains more than 300 disabled children to ride horses each week.
"When children are here, they are not their disability," he says. "They experience things they knew they could do but people told them they couldn't."
When she was born, doctors told us that Tobi would not run, read or write. She does all those things thanks to my courageous sister, who has consistently pushed the envelope. It was decided that Tobi would determine what Tobi could accomplish.
But without people like Mr. Fletcher, many disabled children would never know they could ride a horse or, for that matter, even speak.
A majority of his riders have autism, a neurological disorder that affects the normal functioning of the brain, impacting development in the areas of social interaction and communication skills.
Mr. Fletcher doesn't accept the word "can't." In turn, he has witnessed a couple dozen children speak their first words on a horse. Research shows that horseback riding is an incredible therapy for autism and other disabilities.
"In the beginning, I asked God to make me comfortable with the children. Instead He made me love them," Mr. Fletcher said.
Just think – he spends almost every day relishing in their accomplishments. I'm glad he's there to enjoy Tobi's when I am not. He deserves it.
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
DMN: Ailing Boy to Light Up Parade
DMN Feature Article
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Dallas: Children's center patients will ride in downtown event today
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Christopher Randall knows he is sick. He just doesn't act like it.
Diagnosed with sickle cell disease as an infant, Christopher takes a different approach to life than the average 8-year-old.
"He's knows he's different, so he takes the time to befriend others who are different," said his mother, Kenna Bowers. "But he won't tell you he's sick."
Christopher doesn't have to announce his illness to get attention, Ms. Bowers said. His vivacious personality does the job.
More than 350,000 people are expected to get a firsthand glimpse of Christopher showing off his smile today. He was chosen, along with other Children's Medical Center Dallas patients, to ride in the annual Neiman Marcus Adolphus Children's Parade in downtown Dallas.
"I think the neatest thing is my friends will see me," he said. "I told them I'm going to be on TV, but they don't believe me."
Bowers family members in Arkansas will get to share the experience because a station there plans to air the parade.
Children are chosen through a selection process that includes their success in treatment. It's a way to celebrate how far they have come, even when their illness is not curable, said Ellen Hollon, director of child life/child development at Children's.
"Riding in the parade makes them feel special," said Shirley Miller of Children's sickle cell outreach program. "It shows them that something good can come of [their illness]."
Christopher has suffered extensively from his illness. Sickle cell is an inherited disorder that causes red blood cells to become sickle- or crescent-shaped, often sticking in blood vessels. Tissue damage, severe recurrent pain, strokes and organ damage can result.
Six-year-old Garland resident Kennedy Wilson, who also has sickle cell, will ride alongside Christopher.
The two will be bundled in royal blue sweat suits and Santa hats to keep warm. Sickle cell patients often have adverse reactions to chilly temperatures.
While some patients have fatal complications from the disease, most can manage it.
"Not every kid is impacted by the disease in the same way," said Ms. Miller, who was diagnosed with sickle cell disease as a child. Now in her 50s, doctors predicted Ms. Miller wouldn't live past 30.
Educating the people in Christopher's life has been beneficial in helping him manage his illness. Teachers are given information at the beginning of the school year, and Christopher has been taught to treat himself with medication and observe the warning signs of infection.
"He knows his limitations, and he'll tell me, 'Mama I can do it,' and I know he can," Ms. Bowers said. "He amazes me. He takes it like a soldier."
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
Saturday, December 2, 2006
Dallas: Children's center patients will ride in downtown event today
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Christopher Randall knows he is sick. He just doesn't act like it.
Diagnosed with sickle cell disease as an infant, Christopher takes a different approach to life than the average 8-year-old.
"He's knows he's different, so he takes the time to befriend others who are different," said his mother, Kenna Bowers. "But he won't tell you he's sick."
Christopher doesn't have to announce his illness to get attention, Ms. Bowers said. His vivacious personality does the job.
More than 350,000 people are expected to get a firsthand glimpse of Christopher showing off his smile today. He was chosen, along with other Children's Medical Center Dallas patients, to ride in the annual Neiman Marcus Adolphus Children's Parade in downtown Dallas.
"I think the neatest thing is my friends will see me," he said. "I told them I'm going to be on TV, but they don't believe me."
Bowers family members in Arkansas will get to share the experience because a station there plans to air the parade.
Children are chosen through a selection process that includes their success in treatment. It's a way to celebrate how far they have come, even when their illness is not curable, said Ellen Hollon, director of child life/child development at Children's.
"Riding in the parade makes them feel special," said Shirley Miller of Children's sickle cell outreach program. "It shows them that something good can come of [their illness]."
Christopher has suffered extensively from his illness. Sickle cell is an inherited disorder that causes red blood cells to become sickle- or crescent-shaped, often sticking in blood vessels. Tissue damage, severe recurrent pain, strokes and organ damage can result.
Six-year-old Garland resident Kennedy Wilson, who also has sickle cell, will ride alongside Christopher.
The two will be bundled in royal blue sweat suits and Santa hats to keep warm. Sickle cell patients often have adverse reactions to chilly temperatures.
While some patients have fatal complications from the disease, most can manage it.
"Not every kid is impacted by the disease in the same way," said Ms. Miller, who was diagnosed with sickle cell disease as a child. Now in her 50s, doctors predicted Ms. Miller wouldn't live past 30.
Educating the people in Christopher's life has been beneficial in helping him manage his illness. Teachers are given information at the beginning of the school year, and Christopher has been taught to treat himself with medication and observe the warning signs of infection.
"He knows his limitations, and he'll tell me, 'Mama I can do it,' and I know he can," Ms. Bowers said. "He amazes me. He takes it like a soldier."
Mikki Kirby is a Dallas freelance writer.
DMN: Firefighters to the Rescue
DMN Feature Article
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Garland: Association takes local needy children on annual shopping excursion in the 22nd year of its Christmas toy drive
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
As Patricia Jimenez stood patient and shivering early Sunday morning outside Target in Garland, her children were anxious. Christmas was coming early.
The night before, Elizabeth Jimenez, 9, didn't have visions of sugar plums.
She was thinking of Hello Kitty sheets.
Thanks to the Garland Firefighters Association's annual shopping excursion, she got the item on the top of her list.
"I'm not working right now. This really helps," Ms. Jimenez said. "She wants to decorate her bed in Hello Kitty."
Elizabeth describes her bed as her sanctuary in the room she shares with her brother, Angel, 7, and their newborn sister.
"We wish we could take all their worries away. But we can't. We'll just make sure they get to enjoy Christmas," said firefighter Jerry Click, who's been coordinating the event and the fire association's annual toy drive for 22 years.
Seventy-nine children received $125 each to spend any way they wanted at Target.
Eight children chosen to be beneficiaries didn't show. Mr. Click said those families will receive gift cards.
Families were chosen through school counselors and according to need.
Thirty children were chosen from Caldwell Elementary School, where 83 percent of students get free lunches, according to school counselor Cari Slider.
"You can't help everyone, but you wish you could," she said, holding back tears.
"We try to find ways to help all of them. This event reaches a lot of our kids."
A volunteer or firefighter escorted each child. Many have witnessed the children buying gifts for their parents and grandparents over the years.
Children eagerly browsed through shoes, clothes, bicycles and toys for an hour before the store opened.
Jarmell Ross paused quietly in sporting goods and carefully chose a basketball. It was his first basketball since being relocated after Hurricane Katrina.
Several children proudly wheeled the bikes they'd chosen to checkout. Elizabeth smiled, her cart filled with Hello Kitty merchandise.
"We have to wrap them and put them under the tree," she said. "But that's OK, because we know they are there."
Last year, the department raised enough money to shop for 64 kids. This year's money came through private donations, a golf tournament and a boxing tournament. Whatever's needed, in the end Mr. Click knows firefighters will pull out their pocket change.
"We just make it work," said firefighter David Holcombe. "If Jerry could shop for 500, he would."
Mikki Kirby is a freelance writer in Dallas.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Garland: Association takes local needy children on annual shopping excursion in the 22nd year of its Christmas toy drive
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
As Patricia Jimenez stood patient and shivering early Sunday morning outside Target in Garland, her children were anxious. Christmas was coming early.
The night before, Elizabeth Jimenez, 9, didn't have visions of sugar plums.
She was thinking of Hello Kitty sheets.
Thanks to the Garland Firefighters Association's annual shopping excursion, she got the item on the top of her list.
"I'm not working right now. This really helps," Ms. Jimenez said. "She wants to decorate her bed in Hello Kitty."
Elizabeth describes her bed as her sanctuary in the room she shares with her brother, Angel, 7, and their newborn sister.
"We wish we could take all their worries away. But we can't. We'll just make sure they get to enjoy Christmas," said firefighter Jerry Click, who's been coordinating the event and the fire association's annual toy drive for 22 years.
Seventy-nine children received $125 each to spend any way they wanted at Target.
Eight children chosen to be beneficiaries didn't show. Mr. Click said those families will receive gift cards.
Families were chosen through school counselors and according to need.
Thirty children were chosen from Caldwell Elementary School, where 83 percent of students get free lunches, according to school counselor Cari Slider.
"You can't help everyone, but you wish you could," she said, holding back tears.
"We try to find ways to help all of them. This event reaches a lot of our kids."
A volunteer or firefighter escorted each child. Many have witnessed the children buying gifts for their parents and grandparents over the years.
Children eagerly browsed through shoes, clothes, bicycles and toys for an hour before the store opened.
Jarmell Ross paused quietly in sporting goods and carefully chose a basketball. It was his first basketball since being relocated after Hurricane Katrina.
Several children proudly wheeled the bikes they'd chosen to checkout. Elizabeth smiled, her cart filled with Hello Kitty merchandise.
"We have to wrap them and put them under the tree," she said. "But that's OK, because we know they are there."
Last year, the department raised enough money to shop for 64 kids. This year's money came through private donations, a golf tournament and a boxing tournament. Whatever's needed, in the end Mr. Click knows firefighters will pull out their pocket change.
"We just make it work," said firefighter David Holcombe. "If Jerry could shop for 500, he would."
Mikki Kirby is a freelance writer in Dallas.
DMN: Team Micah Stays by Family's Side
DMN Feature Article
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Garland firefighters come running for boy with spinal birth defect
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Michelle Diffee watched a video on YouTube and applied it to the realities of her life.
Ms. Diffee was inspired by the story of a man who started running marathons in honor of his son who has multiple sclerosis.
"His thought was just because his son can't run doesn't mean other people can't run for him," Ms. Diffee said.
She decided to do the same for her 2-year-old son, Micah. She, her husband, Jon, and a dozen friends participated in Wellstone's Dallas White Rock Marathon this month.
Mr. Diffee's co-workers – Garland firefighters Steve Brown, Joe Clark, Phillip Crawford, Andrew Edmondson and Lonnie Green – formed a relay team and wore yellow Team Micah T-shirts.
Micah has a rare birth defect, Caudal regression syndrome, which has left him without the bottom third of his spine. He has sensation in his legs and feet but can't use them. He uses a stand-up wheelchair for mobility.
His mother describes Micah as fearless, just like his father's colleagues.
"You would never know Micah goes through what he goes through," said Mr. Clark. "Ever since he was tiny he's been outgoing. I don't think I've ever seen him without a smile on his face, to tell you the truth."
Micah forces his boundaries. Recently he learned to walk on his hands and climb stairs. He drives a four-wheeler with a thumb throttle. He demands to do things on his own and has impressive problem-solving skills for a 2-year-old, his mother said.
When they can, the firefighters partner with the Diffees to improve the quality of Micah's life.
"A lot of times we can't help financially, but we'll get in there and do what we can," Mr. Brown said. The Diffees "are a true inspiration. You just can't get them down. They are always moving forward."
In September 2003, Mr. Diffee went into day surgery to relieve pain from a broken shoulder blade and suffered a stroke during the procedure. Co-workers organized a schedule to have at least one firefighter by Mr. Diffee's side at all times during his hospital stay. About 30 of them pitched in.
Through the trials and tribulations, the Diffees have found strength in a close group of friends. As firefighters, Mr. Diffee and his co-workers spend about a third of their lives together.
"These guys get so involved," Ms. Diffee said. "They are always doing something athletic and always looking for ways to support us."
Team Micah raised more than $5,000 from the race, which benefited Texas Scottish Rite Hospital for Children. The hospital has been instrumental in improving Micah's life. By the new year, the Diffees hope to have a custom-made sit-down wheelchair provided by the hospital.
Micah receives treatment at Scottish Rite, where he spends a lot of his time. During his visits he always has 4-year-old brother Tanner by his side and the spirit of his father's colleagues in his heart, his mother said.
Mikki Kirby is a freelance writer in Dallas.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Garland firefighters come running for boy with spinal birth defect
By MIKKI KIRBY / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News
Michelle Diffee watched a video on YouTube and applied it to the realities of her life.
Ms. Diffee was inspired by the story of a man who started running marathons in honor of his son who has multiple sclerosis.
"His thought was just because his son can't run doesn't mean other people can't run for him," Ms. Diffee said.
She decided to do the same for her 2-year-old son, Micah. She, her husband, Jon, and a dozen friends participated in Wellstone's Dallas White Rock Marathon this month.
Mr. Diffee's co-workers – Garland firefighters Steve Brown, Joe Clark, Phillip Crawford, Andrew Edmondson and Lonnie Green – formed a relay team and wore yellow Team Micah T-shirts.
Micah has a rare birth defect, Caudal regression syndrome, which has left him without the bottom third of his spine. He has sensation in his legs and feet but can't use them. He uses a stand-up wheelchair for mobility.
His mother describes Micah as fearless, just like his father's colleagues.
"You would never know Micah goes through what he goes through," said Mr. Clark. "Ever since he was tiny he's been outgoing. I don't think I've ever seen him without a smile on his face, to tell you the truth."
Micah forces his boundaries. Recently he learned to walk on his hands and climb stairs. He drives a four-wheeler with a thumb throttle. He demands to do things on his own and has impressive problem-solving skills for a 2-year-old, his mother said.
When they can, the firefighters partner with the Diffees to improve the quality of Micah's life.
"A lot of times we can't help financially, but we'll get in there and do what we can," Mr. Brown said. The Diffees "are a true inspiration. You just can't get them down. They are always moving forward."
In September 2003, Mr. Diffee went into day surgery to relieve pain from a broken shoulder blade and suffered a stroke during the procedure. Co-workers organized a schedule to have at least one firefighter by Mr. Diffee's side at all times during his hospital stay. About 30 of them pitched in.
Through the trials and tribulations, the Diffees have found strength in a close group of friends. As firefighters, Mr. Diffee and his co-workers spend about a third of their lives together.
"These guys get so involved," Ms. Diffee said. "They are always doing something athletic and always looking for ways to support us."
Team Micah raised more than $5,000 from the race, which benefited Texas Scottish Rite Hospital for Children. The hospital has been instrumental in improving Micah's life. By the new year, the Diffees hope to have a custom-made sit-down wheelchair provided by the hospital.
Micah receives treatment at Scottish Rite, where he spends a lot of his time. During his visits he always has 4-year-old brother Tanner by his side and the spirit of his father's colleagues in his heart, his mother said.
Mikki Kirby is a freelance writer in Dallas.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
