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June 2006
If she were a he, maybe Pinder would be A-OK
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Maybe it wasn’t The Hug.
Maybe it’s none of the reasons being bandied about. Or perhaps it’s all of them and then some.
On June 12, the Gwinnett County Public Library Board of Trustees fired Jo Ann Pinder, the library chief, in a very public, humiliating way. They exercised their right to can her “without cause,” then used a parliamentary procedure to keep the sole board member who supported the librarian from speaking. How cunning and lily-livered.
There’s got to be some explanation for showing Pinder the door. It could be any number of things, from legit reasons tied to a lapse in job performance to farcical ones fueled by personalities. Too bad Chairman Lloyd Breck and board members Phyllis Oxendine, Dale Todd and Margaret Tiller lack the fortitude to give us, much less Pinder, an explanation.
Mum’s the operative word.
Since it is, I’d like to offer an explanation that makes as much sense as anything else I’ve heard regarding an issue more suited for making headlines in DeKalb than Gwinnett.
Four days before Pinder was let go, the library board drafted a letter that outlined concerns with the way she handles relationships and people in general. They said she was rude to public officials, disrespectful to library board members and “heavy handed” with employees.
Then there’s the issue of The Hug, or lack thereof.
It seems that Todd, the library board member, was offended during a May 15 budget workshop in which Pinder, before a roomful of people, refused a hug she extended. Pinder said she had suffered a back injury.
None of this sounds like firing offenses, especially for someone who has brought library operations into the 21st century.
It’s understandable when an employer evaluates an employee’s substandard performance, and makes an ultimatum: Clean up your act or else. Then, the employer sets a specific time for a turnaround.
So, let’s play what-if. What if Pinder were a man?
Imagine that Mr. Pinder, our acclaimed librarian, is brash, bold, bull-headed, short of wit and acid-tongued. He doesn’t like giving or receiving hugs, back injury or not. Don’t even think about it.
Mr. Pinder has had some missteps.
Last year, he recommended that the board sell off its collection of DVDs, audio CDs and videotapes because theft-prevention measures might prove too costly. But after the board reversed the decision, he apologized for not doing a better job of alerting the public before pulling the collection from shelves.
Then in March, Mr. Pinder apologized to the board and two home school moms who said he yelled at them during a dispute over public records.
Firing offenses? Hardly.
Which brings me to my point: Maybe gender figures into Pinder’s fate just as strongly as personality conflicts, management style and debates regarding the library’s mission. Would a man with a similar record, coupled with the same type of demeanor, be fired without cause? Or would he be tapped on the wrist and lauded for being a bullish but exceptionally qualified supervisor?
I think it’s highly plausible that if Pinder were a man, the outcome would have been different. It’s just a suggestion, one that’s a lot more palatable and reasonable than the unacceptable silence emanating from the library board.
Let me know what you think.
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Comic proves to be superhero to boys
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
It had been a good day.
We’d spent Saturday morning viewing “Galaxy of Heroes,” an exhibit in the Children’s Gallery of the Jacqueline Casey Hudgens Center for the Arts in Duluth.
The exhibit’s name says it all. It’s a nearly 70-piece display of superheroes. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman and the Incredible Hulk are represented in fine shape and form.
And then there’s Galaxy Man and Cosmic Girl, a newbie among the traditional league cast. Galaxy Man,the good guy in the child-friendly comic story, is an astronomer with super powers. He’s looking for his lost wife. With the help of Cosmic Girl, he fights dangers both in space and on Earth.
The comic is the creation of Kyle Puttkammer, an illustrator who owns Galactic Quest Comic shops in Buford and Lawrenceville. He hopes to take Galaxy Man national one day.
On Saturday, Puttkammer gave visitors a tour of the exhibit. He knows most of the contributing artists, and because of that, he was able to note nuances and explain techniques. He expressed his love for comics, talked about the art and how now, as a family man, comic retailing helps him pay the bills.
He did something else, too, something he may not even have realized.
In those few short minutes, he turned on two light bulbs — those of my son, Miles, and his friend, Benjamin Ashby. And for that, I thank him.
Spending a Saturday morning at a gallery holds little attraction for 10-year-olds. They’d rather watch cartoons on TV, not get dragged to a lecture and how-to show on drawing comics. The topic offered promise, though. And Puttkammer’s passion brought it to life.
My kid hears it from me all the time, how he can do most anything with a little creativity and determination. I don’t know if any of it sticks, but I know this for certain: Puttkammer’s message struck a chord with the boys. Made them want to tap their creative sides.
I heard proof of it after we’d left the gallery and headed to Gwinnett Place mall to check out a store that sells Yu-Gi-Oh cards. On the way, Benjamin started reading the script aloud.
“He needs more villains,” he said, noting that there are only two evil characters — Dr. Ross Rex and Cosmonaut Sirus.
“Man, he drew his own comic book when he was 10,” said Miles, amazed by the possibility. “When we get home, I want to draw.”
That night, after Benjamin had gone home, dinner had been eaten and all was quiet, Miles and I sat at the kitchen table. We popped in a Marley CD and poured some ginger ale. He got out some colored pencils, a sketch pad and a few pieces of plain, white paper.
He sketched out his own super hero, “Sindrome.” And a good day ended like it had started.
Miles hasn’t written a script for his superhero yet. Who knows, it may never evolve into one. But anything is possible.
Decades ago, it happened to a kid named Kyle. When he was 10, he wrote and designed his first comic book about “Star Wars.” Two years later, the Wisconsin native created his first comic-book story line, Metela Man. Both comics are part of the “Galaxy of Heroes” exhibit that runs through Sept. 2.
Take your kids. They may walk away inspired.
For more information about Puttkammer and his local appearances, visit www.galacticquest.com.
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Police exhibit a double standard
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Not even my darkest side would permit me to kill another human being.
For sake of discussion, though, say I flip out. Someone gets shot to death. Basic police work calls for investigators to gather information, to name the shooter.
I doubt the Gwinnett County cops would identify me on an incident report as a “Gwinnett County columnist.”
They might list that as my alias, but definitely not my real name. Rest assured, “Rick Badie” would be printed in the offender’s box.
But if I were a Gwinnett County police officer, things might be different. A double standard might be applied. The authorities might invoke a hybrid code of silence that rivals any cinematic plot.
Unfortunately for us, the script is a reality.
On June 10, a Gwinnett police sergeant shot and killed an unarmed man on Hamilton Mill Road in Buford. Police say 41-year-old Jeffrey Hugh Cantrell was intoxicated. Cantrell apparently knew he was too tanked to drive. He’d called some co-workers and was en route to a gas station to meet them so somebody could take the wheel.
He didn’t make it. A veteran police officer who tried to stop Cantrell shot him from a moving vehicle. He died before his truck even left the road.
We know lots about Cantrell, thanks to Sheriff’s Department records. Since 1997, he’d been jailed in the county detention center 10 times on various charges, DUI among them. And just this April, he spent time in the pen on a disorderly conduct charge.
His criminal history is an open book. He doesn’t enjoy the blue-shield luxury of the officer, who apparently failed to follow departmental policy when he shot at Cantrell from a moving vehicle.
In public records, the cops declined to list the officer’s name. Homicide Detective S.K. Shaw, who is handling the internal investigation, listed him on the incident report as “GCPD Officer.”
How clever.
The authorities have told us zilch about this officer, a 20-year veteran. All we know is that he’s been placed on administrative leave while an internal inquiry continues.
This practice of selective anonymity makes a mockery of what cops are sworn to represent and uphold. It spits in the face of Cantrell’s family as well as the general public’s lawful right to know who this cop is and what his service record says.
It tells us something else, too. A double standard exists. Fraternal loyalty matters. Character, ethics and full disclosure are expendable when cops are involved. Do as I say. Not as I do. We are the law, and when it comes to shielding one of our own, we’ll skirt it.
This week, details of the internal investigation into the shooting are supposed to be turned over to District Attorney Danny Porter.
How are we to accept the police investigation of one of its own, when the department’s first instinct was to shield him?
I expect a paper tiger that, if it includes any recommendations for charges, taps the offender on the wrist and sends him on his way.
On Friday, I called Detective Shaw as well as Cpl. Darren Moloney, the police spokesman, to see what they had to say about the decision to shield the officer’s identity. Shaw referred me to Maloney.
Moloney didn’t return a page.
By the way, I used my real name as well as my professional title.
Homeless kids can eat healthfully, and you can help
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
It’s summertime. School’s out. There’s no cafeteria lunch or breakfast to be had for the nearly 2,000 homeless children in Gwinnett.
For those who live in extended-stay motels, there are vending machines — filled with candy, chips and colas.
Little fruit, if any.
Maybe that’s why fresh fruit is the first item kids take out of their lunches once Davida Baker delivers them. It’s usually the first thing they eat, too.
“It tells me that they are craving nutrition,” Baker told me.
On Wednesday, I accompanied her to Intown Suites off Indian Trail Lilburn Road. It’s home for a dozen or so school-age kids who, under federal law, are categorized as homeless.
Campus Church of Christ, at Greater Atlanta Christian School in Lilburn, helps fill the void. The church provides free lunches as part of Project Kids Eat. The program isn’t some ruse to proselytize or pad church rolls. A Scripture that’s placed in each sack lunch is as preachy as it gets.
To receive a meal, just sign up in the motel office. There’re no strings or commitments. Maybe one request.
“You have to pay me,” Baker told Brianna Parker, a pretty 8-year-old who popped into the Intown Suites office with her mother and sister.
Brianna, smiling, gave Baker a hug.
The motel clerk showed us a letter Brianna had written.
“It’s pretty cool how you guys don’t give the same thing for lunch, but I wouldn’t care if it was the same thing,” she wrote. “I still appreciate it.” So does her mother, Terri O’Grady.
“It’s needed,” she said.
Kids Eat stems from Baker’s benevolence. The Tucker woman’s son, Andrew, is a graduate of Greater Atlanta Christian School. One year while a student, he volunteered at the Norcross Cooperative Ministry.
Davida Baker saw families struggling to put food on the table. She saw that school lunches, in many cases, were the only square meals consumed by many children.
So she started delivering meals here and there, depending on donations from friends and others to cover costs. Last year, her church took over the operation, which now costs about $17,000 to operate. This summer, 150 children will receive lunches. The church also hosts Christmas and Easter dinners for the needy.
Baker deflects any credit. She simply wants other churches to pick up the mantle.
If you don’t believe there’s a need, drop by an extended-stay motel and talk to the staff.
You may want to pack some fruit to take along.
For more information about Project Kids Eat, call Baker at 770-493-1723.
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What happens in Vegas sure does reek in Gwinnett
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Man, leave town for a few days and all hell breaks out.
Well, I’m back.
So let me delve right into the political fray, starting with Las Vegas Ken. In March, Gwinnett County Commissioner Kevin Kenerly took a six-day trip to Las Vegas. He spent more than $26,000 to bring his family, friends and lawyer along. He has provided statements and records that show he paid his own way. Who paid isn’t the issue, though.
In the South, we’re used to government and big business co-existing cozily, almost incestuously. It’s practically unavoidable in places like Gwinnett where good ole boys — and those smart enough to keep one foot in the network — reign supreme.
You know how it goes. Commissioner “A” went to school with Developer “B.” Maybe they’re kin. They might be deacons in the same church. Sons and daughters play the same sports and date each other. All these things, generally, are circumstances and situations residents have learned to live with, to accept.
Then something alarming turns up. Like Kenerly’s trip.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with Kenerly’s treating family and friends to a vacation. To our knowledge, nothing illegal transpired. The developers apparently traveled to Vegas independently of Kenerly. They just happened to book the same week in March that Kenerly chose to gamble in the Caesars Palace casino.
Yeah, right.
Seeing video footage of a Gwinnett commissioner gambling alongside local developers doesn’t make for a pretty postcard. It gets one’s mind to racing and thinking sordid stories. It paints a picture of impropriety, even when it’s nonexistent. It portrays a developer-official snugness and smugness exclusive of average people and their concerns.
How could you think differently?
What kills me, though, is this worn-out explanation we get fed when elected officials are busted with poker chips in hand.
“I paid my own way,” they all say to silence critics.
It’s what Charles Bannister, our county commission chairman, said in February 2005 after he joined developers on a gambling excursion to the Golden Moon Hotel & Casino in Philadelphia, Miss. The trip had been organized by Precision Planning, a Lawrenceville-based engineering and architectural firm that had done work for the county.
Bannister, who had been in office one month, said he paid for his travel, lodging and meals.
It doesn’t matter. Participating still shows poor judgment, arrogance and abuse of a privilege bestowed upon office-holders whom we elect.
Las Vegas Ken, who faces two challengers in the July 18 primary, told AJC Gwinnett News reporter Ben Smith that the developers shown in the video didn’t pay for his hotel room, gambling, meals or other vacation expenses. He also said he lost $10,000 gambling. Chump change for a high roller.
Voters should ask themselves a question:
How much do you stand to gain by returning this man to office?
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Medical bills leave family scrimping
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Rutledge — Jacob had maxed out his medical insurance by the time he was 2 1/2 years old. One million dollars — just in therapy and hospital stays. “By the time he was 3, we figured he’d spend at cumulative of two years in the hospital,” his mom, Gail Silis, said.
Jacob was born nine years ago with a bad heart. Among other abnormalities, his arteries were reversed. His aorta, as well as blood vessels leading to his lungs, were too narrow.
He received a heart transplant on Memorial Day 2000. So far, its been a success. Still, he still needs constant medical care to make sure his body isn’t rejecting the organ.
In March, the Silises of Lawrenceville were the recipients of bad news. The family learned that monetary assistance provided through Medicaid had been denied. For the past six years, Jacob’s bill had been paid through the Katie Beckett Program. It pays exorbitant medical bills for those who can’t afford to — if certain criteria are met.
The Silises are middle class, but of the rank-and-file nature. Money’s tight. There’s not enough wiggle room to accommodate the kind of care Jacob demands — occupational as well as physical therapy, echocardiograms, extensive lab work, this, that and the other. And that doesn’t even take into account unexpected medical emergencies like pneumonia and infections.
Ironically, the Silises are partly to blame for their situation. Guess you can be too good at parenting.
I met Vince and Gail three years ago at Camp Braveheart, an annual camp for cardiac kids held in Rutledge. Gail serves as the director of arts and crafts. Vince, when his job as a computer programmer permits, volunteers, too.
When it comes to taking care of Jacob, one of two sons, its a tag-team effort. They dispense and monitor the effects of powerful medications that keep Jacob’s heart ticking and buoy his immune system. When he’s sick, she acts as nurse as much as possible.
“I’d rather keep him at home if I can,” Gail said.
And because of that, Jacob hasn’t chocked up enough hospital stays, scares and near misses to merit the need for continuous care.
Still, that doesn’t negate the fact that Jacob needs specialized attention Mom and Dad can’t provide. Or pay for, like therapy. Then there are the unforeseen expenses that can pop up any minute, any day.
“Before my children, I worked from the age of 17 until I was 37, so I’ve paid into the system,” Gail said. “My husband has paid into the system. I know Social Security won’t be around when I’m older, so why can’t I get what I’ve paid into the system and let it go to my child?”
“It makes me feel like I’m begging.”
Jacob’s pediatrician, Lise Baudean of Lawrenceville Pediatrics, has written a letter for the Silises to support their claim. She’s even stopped charging. “That’s kind of embarrassing,” Silis said.
The parents have stopped weekly therapy because they can’t afford it. They plan to appeal the denial of their claim but hold scant hope for a better outcome. Silis told me a joke that’s well-known within the organ-transplant community. If you maintain a stable home and have two parents, the best way to get premium medical care is to get a divorce.
It’s the only time she laughed during a nearly hourlong interview. The rest of the time she talked between tears.
Funny how medicine has advanced to the point that we can live years with another person’s organs.
What good is it, though, if the medical network to maintain that life is too expensive?
Counselor relates to campers’ illnesses
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Rutledge — Matt Schnei-der literally rolls out of bed each morning. He uses his back muscles. He has no choice.
“I have to because I have no frontal abdominal muscles,” said Schneider, 29, who spent his teen years in Duluth.
“I can’t do sit-ups, either. It’s no biggie.”
What an understatement.
Matt’s the videographer for Camp Braveheart, a camp for kids born with congenital heart defects. Now in its 12th year, it is held at Camp Twin Lakes, a 300-acre refuge an hour east of Atlanta in Rutledge.
During the week, Schnei- der takes video footage of camp activities, then edits it down to a 20-minute DVD. Every camper and volunteer gets a copy. He’s on the job at this week’s camp, taping about 125 kids and their worn-out counselors at various activities and events.
When it comes to camp, Schneider of Fairburn is a veteran. As a youngster, he participated. As an adult, he volunteers.
In July, he’ll serve as a counselor at Camp Independence, another special-needs camp held at Camp Twin Lakes. This one’s for kids who have kidney defects. Some, like Schneider, have had transplants. Others are on dialysis, something he has experienced as well.
And some haven’t started treatment yet.
Schneider was born with a condition called Eagle-Barrett syndrome. He’s had three kidney transplants. His body rejected Mom and Dad’s donated organs. So far his brother’s organ, which Schneider received six years ago, has been a winner.
“For transplant patients, there are six antigens that have to match up,” he told me. “The more matches you have, the more likely the body won’t reject the kidney. The last one matched up six out of six. It’s been a really good match, so I’m good to go.”
Although Schneider enjoys videotaping Braveheart campers, he relishes his role as a Camp Independence counselor. He’s been through what the kidney patients are experiencing or will encounter because of their condition.
“I can talk to the kids because I know exactly what they are going through, as opposed to a ‘normal’ counselor who doesn’t,” he said. “It was a big sharing experience when I first went to camp at 14. I had only been treated in adult hospitals, so when I met other 14-year-olds who had been through the same thing, it was a very big sharing experience.”
Schneider has a cinematic vision. The Berry College broadcast graduate wants to make a movie, an educational and autobiographical one. He plans to interview friends, former teachers and doctors who have taken part in his early journey. The film is aimed at the general public as well as children who face critical health issues like congenital heart defects and kidney problems. He wants kids especially to see that, despite having to roll out of bed, he lives a normal life. He doesn’t let his condition sideline him.
“I am telling my story,” he said Monday before filming a group of campers embarking on a bike ride. “It’s my whole story so that people can learn about chronic illness, see what it’s like. I also want to educate the public about organ donations, dialysis and transplants.”
He estimates that making the independent film will cost about $15,000. Most of the money will pay for travelling to various locales to interview past and present acquaintances. Schneider has been boning up on grant writing in hopes of landing some funds. But he suspects most of the money to make the film will come from the hearts of people who hear about what he’s doing and want to help. “When they hear that I’m telling my story to help others,” he said, “they’ll want to be a part of it.”
Little soldiers with brave hearts
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
This week, I’m camping with some soldiers.
Half-pint soldiers. About 125 boys and girls from Gwinnett and across Georgia. Maybe a few out-of-staters, too. They’re 7- to-18-year-olds with at least one thing in common. They all have, or have had, bad hearts.
Like my son.
Miles is a miracle child. You wouldn’t know it by looking at him, though, especially if he’s fully dressed (more on that later). He entered the world on a November morning, 10 years ago, at 7:08 a.m. in a Florida hospital.
The next day, a pediatrician was making rounds in the nursery, checking up on the babies she helped bring into the world. She’d had no hand in delivering Miles. Something, premonition perhaps, told her to take a look. His lips and face were blue.
And Miles, whose name means “soldier” in Latin, was dying.
Later, we learned he’d been born with a condition called transposition of the great vessels. His aorta and pulmonary artery were reversed. Their placement prevented his blood and oxygen from mixing. The arteries had to be snipped, then reattached to his heart. All on a days-old infant.
His heart was the size of a walnut. His arteries were microscopic. Before the major surgery there were two other surgeries. One pinpointed the congenital birth defect. The other mapped out corrective measures.
Colleagues and friends sometimes ask how I’m able to stay glued under stress and duress. They find it odd that much of what life hands me — the good and the bad — just rolls off my shoulders.
“How could that be?” they ask.
Well, the birth of Miles is why.
I’d be writing a different column today if it weren’t for an attentive pediatrician, and doctors who gave their A-game. It’s not that nothing else matters. Things do. It’s just hard to get worked up over professional and personal drama when you’ve nearly lost a child.
Camp Braveheart is a free, weeklong retreat for cardiac patients. It’s held annually at Camp Twin Lakes, a 300-acre refuge in Rutledge that’s designed specifically for special-needs kids. Physicians and nurses from Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta staff the camp with the help of volunteers.
This marks the third year that Miles will attend as a camper and that I’ve served as a boys’ counselor. We’ll be in different cabins. He doesn’t want me around him 24/7.
But I’ll see him coming and going with the other soldiers— riding horses, kayaking, swimming, fishing and eating —everything but dancing at the end-of-camp party.
Miles has a surgical scar that pretty much extends from his chest to his abdomen. There’s also tissue build-up where post-surgical drainage tubes were inserted in the sides of his stomach. It’s hard to ignore these battle scars. They can lead to questions and comments and stares that no kid should have to endure.
At Camp Braveheart, all that vanishes. Every soldier wears some badge of honor. Maybe it’s a surgical scar. Or medication that must be taken at every meal. Or a pacemaker. It might even be a donated heart.
Nobody stands out. What a wonderful place to immerse yourself for a week.
So I’m checking out of Gwinnett and into Braveheart. I’m lugging my laptop along so look for my columns about camp life on Tuesday and Thursday. They might make you think about your life, make you celebrate the good and try to truly resolve the bad.
Who knows. Maybe you’ll learn to be a little more soldierly.
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Step aside, Ace Ventura, Nancy Green’s on the case
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She knows she sounds weird.
“I connect with dogs,” Nancy Elizabeth Green told me. “I think the way they think.”
She called Tuesday after she read my column about “Toby,” the Shih Tzu that apparently was tortured to death. She wanted to offer Matt Ammons, Toby’s owner, her condolences and services.
In May 2004, someone tried to run over Green’s 4-year-old Aussie shepherd. Priscilla survived, though she lost sight in her right eye. Green wanted to prosecute the person responsible. She sought witnesses and information about the incident. Nothing turned up.
People, generally, don’t step up in such matters. Green does.
Two months ago, she saw an SUV get broadsided on North Druid Hills Road near I-85. A frightened pooch jumped out of the damaged car and high-tailed it to the woods.
Green, with her three dogs in tow, stopped to help. She, as well as the owner of the yellow Labrador mix, searched fruitlessly. Days later, a UPS driver who lives in the area spotted the leashed dog. Today, Scout’s home. The pet’s good fortune was the focus of an article in the April 9 edition of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
For Green of Snellville, the incident was an epiphany. She’s been rescuing stray and abused canines nearly two decades. And for the past two years, she’s been a private investigator for Atlantic Investigations in Decatur. Most cases have dealt with domestic issues.
Green, though, wants her own niche. She wants to help owners of lost, stolen or abused pets.
Think Ace Ventura, pet detective.
So she’s merged her dog passion with her P.I. skills. Of course, her services will come with a price, but the rate ($50 an hour) isn’t concrete. She’s flexible. Nothing weird about that.
When she called the other day, Green told me to relay a message to Toby’s grieving owner. She told me to tell him that she cared and that anything she could do for him would be gratis.
Nancy Elizabeth Green can be reached at 404-247-7723 or e-mail: Nancyelizabethpi@aol.com.
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