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July 2007
Honor memory by helping ministry help others
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
No one had seen him in days, and that wasn’t the Craig A. Molnar whom management and guests at the Villa Lodge Inn and Suites in Lawrenceville had come to know.
When Sunday rolled around and he had not shown, management rapped on his door, then went inside Room 106. Molnar, 46, was slumped over a desk in his sparse room. The official cause of death has not yet been determined, according to the Gwinnett medical examiner’s office.
A month ago, I’d interviewed Molnar in that same room. He was chipper. Good news had rained down on him and brighter days seemed to beckon.
Months before, the Lawrenceville Cooperative Ministry had paid for his initial stay in the lodge. They also helped Molnar obtain some prescriptions to treat a fatal lung disease that kept him in and out of the emergency room, and prevented sustainable employment.
One Saturday he left a voice message, saying his first disability check had arrived in the mail. Linda Freund, who oversees the Lawrenceville ministry, helped him open an account.
“I’m fine,” he’d told me.
Molnar used to sleep in the woods and along the railroad tracks near Lawrenceville. His health, coupled, I’d imagine, with errant decisions through the years, put him there. Big deal.
Those of you who live smug, mighty and arrogant and tend to crow about how people need to help themselves can kiss my glass. What happened to Molnar could happen to anybody. To you.
I got a call Monday from a 51-year-old mother of two who can’t find work and is about to be evicted from her home. She wanted help and wanted me to know that there are plenty of people in Gwinnett just like her, struggling in spite of themselves.
With Molnar, I wrote a series of columns right before Christmas about the county’s growing homeless population. One night we ventured out to look for homeless people in some of his pre-hotel haunts. We didn’t find anyone, only remnants of lives.
No worries. Molnar had already exposed Freund and others to the reality of the situation.
It’s uncertain what type of burial the Michigan native will receive or when it will take place. The Lawrenceville Cooperative Ministry plans to have some type of memorial. I have a suggestion for those who may want to honor, in some way, his memory, initial reluctance and eventual willingness to share his story.
The Lilburn Cooperative Ministry needs to replace its heating and cooling system as well as its piecemeal computer network. The 15-ton heating and cooling unit alone could cost up to $18,000, but a ministry supporter has pledged to do the work at cost, around $13,000.
The Lilburn ministry runs a thrift shop to cover overhead costs, so all donations help the needy. It serves an average of 30 families a day, but “the biggest increase has been in people becoming homeless,” said Kay Whithear, director of the Lilburn ministry.
So, honor Molnar. Help this ministry.
“Knowing Craig helped us understand the needs of the homeless a little better,” Freund told me. “I take grace in knowing he knew the Lord, and is in a greater place.”
And that he didn’t die in the woods.
To help the Lilburn Cooperative Ministry, contact Kay Whithear at 770-931-8333. Donations may be sent to 5329 Five Forks Trickum Road, Lilburn, GA 30047.
• Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Cocktail hour tradition leads to lasting friendship
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Every afternoon, without fail, the elderly couple sat on their back deck and sipped cocktails.
One day, Jerry Robb, a newcomer in the Duluth subdivision, introduced himself to Helen and Bob Miller. They started inviting him over for afternoon toddies. It marked the start of a tradition.
“At 5 o’clock, they would show up at my fence and yell, ‘The bar’s open.’ That’s how we met.”
Bob — Helen’s hubby of 12 years — died nine years ago. The afternoon social hour continues on Robb’s backyard patio.
Miller, 86, suffers from macular degeneration. The former accountant and bookkeeper can’t read or drive. A personal care assistant lives with her.
And she’s got a friend in Robb, 60, a divorced salesman. He mows her lawn and reads books and articles to her when they gather in the evenings. He installed a walkway to connect their houses. Miller, mother of four, doesn’t have to brave the street to visit.
“A lot of people have told me over the years that I have been sent from God to take care of Helen,” Robb told me. “I didn’t believe it at first, but now I do. This is an old lady and sometimes she can be [intolerable] like many old people. But I’ve always liked talking to old people.”
The late comedian Richard Pryor had a joke about young people and the elderly. “You don’t get old by being a fool,” he’d say, adding a punch line about “smart” young people that’s unprintable.
Like Robb, I enjoy conversing with senior citizens. It’s fun to mingle with some of the greatest generation at the Gwinnett Veterans Memorial Museum. Or to play ping pong with Bill York, an 81-year-old retiree in Lilburn. Or to talk civil rights with Norcross’ Nathaniel Brown, who helped integrate public schools.
On Thursday, I dined with Robb, Miller and her daughter, Julie Harper, who was visiting from Port Charlotte, Fla. Social hour convened on Robb’s back patio, where we proceeded to solve the world’s problems.
Miller told stories about growing up in East Atlanta, attending boarding school, and disliking the family’s move to Gwinnett, then a backwater depot. She tied dates to events with ease. Robb knew some of the tales as well as she.
“A lot of young people think they are smarter than God,” he told me. “They think they don’t need to talk to anybody. Once you reach 25 or 30 years old, you begin to realize how smart old people are. You don’t get wisdom from studying. You get it from old age.”
Listen. Learn.
• Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Officer has full schedule dealing with animal cruelty complaints
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The mixed retriever starts barking as soon as we pull up. He’s in a backyard kennel. Next to the kennel is a large water oak tree with a chain wrapped around it’s trunk.
Last time a Gwinnett County Animal Control officer visited this Stone Mountain residence, the pooch had been chained to that tree. That’s a violation of the county’s six-month-old anti-tethering law. He also had a horrific case of fly bites, the result of flies nipping at his ears in search of a blood meal. It’s a common condition in outside dogs.
A week ago, the dog owners were told to get this pooch to a vet. Officer Mike Chatham stopped by the house Wednesday to see if they’d done it. He knocks on the door. Nothing.
When we walk toward the kennel, the dog retreats, sullenly, into the kennel dog house. Chatham tries cajoling to no avail.
On Wednesday, I rode shotgun with Chatham, an 11-year veteran of the county’s animal control unit. He’s one of two cruelty investigators who traverse the county responding to complaints of neglect regarding all types of animals, but usually canines and cats.
Incident reports have been on the uptick recently, and Chatham suspects a lightning rod for the surge may have been Michael Vick’s federal indictment on dogfighting charges.
Or episodes of Animal Planet, the cable TV channel.
“People see that show, and they say, ‘Hey, my neighbor is doing that,’ ” said Chatham, a 1990 graduate of South Gwinnett High.
People and animals can make for an intense intimacy. Vick picked the wrong illegal activity to allegedly hitch up with. He should have ran a brothel, a gambling ring or a crystal meth lab. None of those criminal acts would have garnered the wrath of the general public like allegations of drowning, electrocuting and hanging dogs.
Wrong victim. Wrong network of activists and advocates to rouse.
As a reporter, I wrote more than my share of stories about loss of life. None ever generated the kind of response like a 1999 story about two kitten killers. The Hall County boys poured gasoline on a 3-month-old tabby, then set it on fire with a cigarette lighter.
“Dunkin’s” tale sparked a national outrage. Missives came from across the globe. Outrage about the loss of a human seems more muted, almost expected.
I asked Chatham to put animal passion in a better context for me. After all, he’s in the profession that looks out for the welfare of Fido as well as the occasional horse, goat, rabbit or deer.
“I don’t know what the connection is,” said Chatham, a family man who has three terriers. “But it’s strong.”
Animal lovers praise Gwinnett’s anti-tethering law. It’s unlawful to restrain or anchor a pet with a chain, rope or cord unless it is being held by a person. The law was adopted due to an increase in animals, mainly dogs, dying from heat stroke and self-strangulation, said Joey Brooks, the county’s other animal cruelty investigator.
Citations can carry up to a $1,000 fine or jail time, but the county doesn’t want to be punitive. Unless the animal’s in eminent danger, owners are given time to take care of the conditions.
“We look at the overall situation,” Brooks told me. “Are they being neglected? Can they reach their water?” On any given day, the animal control office receives about 100 complaints a day. The 30 or so officers each travel 150 to 200 miles a day. The expansive county, mixed with its treacherous traffic, limits the number of reports and follow-up cases they can address.
When Chatham checked his computer around 10:15 Wednesday morning, 15 new complaints had come in since 8 a.m. The Stone Mountain residence with the fly-bitten retriever was his second stop of the day.
Before leaving the house, Chatham tries the door one more time. This time, a teen emerges. He said his mom planned to take the dog to a vet Wednesday. Chatham hands him a “neglect form” about the time his mom drives up. She, too, indicates that the dog is scheduled to see a vet.
On to the next case.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Family, friends remember ‘rock’ of a man
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Related
No man’s perfect.
But if you ask, Kathleen Cunningham Fortson will tell you that Michael R. Fortson came pretty close to excellence. He was her husband and father to their two sons.
“He was a great family man,” said Fortson, talking about her mate of 16 years. “He was a rock.”
A co-worker introduced her to Fortson, who at the time was a Georgia State Patrol officer assigned to Gainesville. Fortson’s love for public safety resonated, but he never told Kathleen Fortson why, specifically, he chose that career.
Maybe it chose him.
“Sometimes I worried, but he always let me know [public safety] is what he wanted to do,” she told me. “There wasn’t one particular reason why. He took his job very seriously.”
Before joining the Georgia State Patrol, Fortson, 42, worked as a police officer for two years in the North Georgia city of Clayton. The 1984 grad of Rabun County High had been employed with the Georgia Department of Public Safety for 18 years. His most recent assignment was high profile — a member of the Georgia State Patrol executive protection unit that provides security for Gov. Sonny Perdue.
Sgt. Keith L. Collins, commander of state patrol post No. 15 in Perry, didn’t know Fortson personally. He just knew of him, the respect for him among the 750 troopers statewide.
“He was a jam-up guy,” Collins said. “He was one of those type troopers we all admire, and aspire to be like.”
Kathleen Fortson says her husband couldn’t have set a better example as a family man for sons, Maurice L. Williams, 21, and Michael T. Fortson, 14, to emulate. On his days off, she could count on three things when she came home from her customer service job with Georgia Power.
Dinner would be prepared. Their Buford home would be kept tidy. The boys would be attended to.
“He wasn’t a wimp by any means,” Kathleen Fortson told me. “Mike left a perfect example of how to treat your wife and your family. The Lord could not have blessed me with a better husband or father for my children.”
Fortson suffered from acid reflux, so he took medication to control it. He exercised faithfully, watched his carb intake and monitored his blood-sugar levels. His father, Willie Fortson of Clayton, is diabetic. His doctor had recently prescribed medicine for his cholesterol, something he disliked. So he exercised more rigorously.
On Thursday, Fortson was sitting at his computer. Before Kathleen left for work, he told her that he felt a burning sensation in his chest. She made sure he’d taken his meds.
Later that morning, her son called. The paramedics arrived in minutes. Fortson died of a heart attack.
The family received friends Sunday at Flanigan Funeral Home and Crematory in Buford. Perdue paid his respects, as well as Lt. Gov. Casey Cagle. Kathleen Fortson and Collins, the state patrol commander, estimated that nearly 700 people offered condolences.
I didn’t attend the funeral held Monday at Union Baptist Church in Buford. But Collins told me the Georgia State Patrol would serve as honor guard. A U.S. flag would be presented to the family. The playing of taps would precede a 21-gun salute. And at Hillcrest Cemetery, three helicopters from the state patrol’s aviation division would perform a “missing man flyover.”
All this for a rock, a perfect man to those who knew him best.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Animal lover cares about dogs, not Vick
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She couldn’t care less if Falcons quarterback Michael Vick takes another snap.
And the thought of the Falcons not having a winning season in light of Vick’s indictment on federal dogfighting charges hasn’t entered her mind.
What Nancy Elizabeth Green cares about are the dogs — how they lived and how they died.
The feds allege that, if Vick’s dogs lost a fight, they were killed by cruel methods, such as electrocution. Green shudders at the thought.
“If you soak a dog with water, then execute him, you’re not human,” she told me. “You’re a sociopath.”
I first met her in November 2004, when I wrote about her public appeal for help to nab a motorist who apparently ran over her dog. Priscilla, a 4-year-old Aussie shepherd, survived but lost sight in her right eye.
Green, a licensed private investigator, wanted Snellville police to prosecute. She asked any witnesses to step forward. No one was ever apprehended, though.
Then in April 2006, she saw an SUV get broad sided on North Druid Hills Road near I-85. A frightened pooch jumped out of the damaged car and took to the woods. Green stopped to help the dog owner search for the animal. The leashed dog was returned to its owner days later. A story about the lucky pet ran in an edition of The Atlanta Journal-Constitution.
This Philly native has been rescuing stray and abused canines for nearly two decades. Calling her a pet lover doesn’t capture the depth of her compassion. One time, she told me — quite seriously — that she “thinks” the way dogs do.
Now she may have an even better sense of their thought processes. Green recently spent a weekend chained up with 14 other dog advocates. The event, held June 30 and July 1 in Atlanta’s Piedmont Park, was part of a nationwide campaign organized by Dogs Deserve Better (www .dogsdeservebetter.org), a nonprofit in Tipton, Pa.
“Laying out there in the hot sun, with a heavy chain around my neck, was horrific,” said Green, 53, who was chained for 17 hours. “And I had the convenience of water and a small umbrella.”
Usually, Green e-mails me whenever a local story about animal cruelty makes headlines. She didn’t contact me about the Vick indictment, so I called her to get an animal lover’s perspective.
“Imagine being semi-starved so you’re made to be really aggressive,” she told me. “Small rabbits and other animals are hung on hooks, and the [fight dogs] are kept running after them on a treadmill until they are exhausted. That’s how they train them.”
As she talked on her cellphone, Green was en route to rescue a border collie in Clayton County. She’ll be the replacement for “Geneva,” a mixed border collie and cocker spaniel who died Dec. 19 after suffering from blindness and diabetes.
“I know this sounds insane, but I have been begging Geneva to send me a replacement that’s in dire straits,” Green said, “and this dog is it. “
Perhaps some dogs act more humane than (some) human beings.
• Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail: rbadie@ajc.com.
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‘Sicko’ makes its distressing point
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Now I know the best time to catch a movie in Gwinnett. It’s midday in midweek.
Either Wednesday isn’t a popular movie-going day, or Michael Moore, the cinematic muckraker who enjoys exposing U.S. flaws, just isn’t that big of a draw in this unabashedly red county.
On Wednesday, I caught the 12:15 p.m. showing of “Sicko,” Moore’s latest exposé, at the AMC Colonial 18 off Duluth Highway. Only three other people saw it then besides me, including an Atlanta Journal-Constitution Gwinnett News freelance photographer who’d shown up to photograph the Badie Tour.
I loved the movie. It appealed to my empathy for the have-nots, and when it comes to health care coverage, America has nearly 50 million uninsured, according to the movie. Admittedly, that’s not groundbreaking news, but the way in which Moore selectively slices and dices facts and meshes and contrasts them with real people is a skill worthy of envy.
You may dislike Moore for a lot of things — his anti-establishment ways, his heft, shoddy dress and unbalanced documentaries.
But you can’t ignore the case he builds in his films, and in this one he’s on point to deliver a crystal-clear message: The U.S. health care system needs to change, for society’s good.
Of all the interviews in the movie with real-life victims, I identified most with the medically bankrupt couple who had to move into their daughter’s basement. The woman was a former newspaper columnist who contracted cancer; her husband was a machinist who’d suffered several strokes. Co-payments and medical expenses doomed them.
That, God forbid, could be me one day.
Or you.
Andrea Haff gave “Sicko” a thumbs up. She’s retired from the retail industry. At 62, she’s ineligible for Medicare and can’t afford coverage.
“Big business controls this country,” said Haff, whose late father was a doctor in eastern Pennsylvania for decades. “Until we can change that, nothing will happen.”
In typical Moore fashion, the movie avoids balance. He fails to get specific regarding tax rates in Canada and Great Britain, two industrialized societies he touts for their universal coverage.
All he says is that they are “drowning in taxes.” And there’s no hint of any problems regarding patient care in any of the models featured in the nearly two-hour flick.
Truth be told, a universal care system won’t fix all that ails the current U.S. system. Nothing’s perfect. That said, it shouldn’t be viewed as un-American or inherently wrong with cherry-picking the best that universal care has to offer, adding some Americanized flourishes, and molding a more efficient delivery system.
We live in the United States, the richest country on the planet. Yet millions of our people, including kids, go without proper health care, if any at all.
Now that’s sick.
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Thanks for the miracle
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
If you don’t believe in miracles, and can’t see society’s greater good, listen up.
Last Tuesday, I wrote about Jack Stabinsky, a 53-year-old multiple sclerosis patient. He lived in the Life Care Center of Gwinnett, a nursing home in Lawrenceville.
He’d done some research and learned that the Boston Home, a nursing home in Massachusetts, offers specialized long-term care for people with physical disabilities, notably MS patients. After being on a waiting list several months, Stabinsky got word on July 6 that he’d been admitted.
The facility couldn’t hold a place for him indefinitely, though, due to high demand. That left Stabinsky, who uses an electric scooter and wears a catheter, with only a few days to accept his bed.
And that presented problems.
Stabinsky would need medical transport, preferably by air, with a nurse. Once he arrived at Boston’s Logan Airport, he’d need an ambulance to take him to the facility. Dick Deacon and other friends of the local MS community worked frantically to make arrangements for the expensive trip.
And on Thursday, Stabinsky made it. He’s in Room No. 105, bed No. 5.
Thanks to you.
Deacon’s phones began ringing at 8 a.m. the day the column ran. They didn’t stop till about 10 that night. I fielded my share of calls and e-mails, too.
Strangers offered up ideas, frequent flyer miles, buddy passes, unused tickets, and money (one reader offered $1,000).
“We can’t express adequately our appreciation for the love expressed to Jack,” Dick and Sybil Deacon wrote in an e-mail. “We talked on the phone to [more than] 100 people we had never met, yet now consider as friends.”
So do Stabinsky’s relatives.
Several in Pennsylvania and Maryland e-mailed to show their gratitude to our county. Some plan to send photos when they visit “Uncle Jack” this weekend.
“The support from your community and his friends is overwhelming,” wrote niece Jacqueline Dormer of Pennsylvania. “It brings tears to my eyes.”
The Deacons say Stabinsky seldom gets emotional, but he broke down last week when they told him about the community’s response. When I talked to Stabinsky on Monday, his spirit was high.
“I thank everybody with all my heart and soul,” he said. “They made me the happiest man in the world.”
Now for the big question: How’d he get there?
Well, an “elite traveler” donated the travel miles for Jack and Becky Moore — admissions director at Life Care Center of Gwinnett — to fly Air Tran. Moore’s flight back to Atlanta was covered, too.
Another anonymous person paid for ambulance service from Logan Airport to the nursing home. Hours later, that same service ferried Moore back to the airport for the return trip.
“We were treated like royalty the minute we got on the plane,” Moore told me. “It was an experience I will never forget. It’s just a miracle, that’s all I can say.”
Me too.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Mother suspects ‘choking game’ killed her daughter
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The popcorn was ready.
Diane Pryor called for Elizabeth, her daughter, to come get some. She didn’t answer. The 13-year-old was in her bedroom. The lights were on and the door was open.
Pryor walked from the kitchen into Elizabeth’s bedroom. A walk-in closet that was missing its door knob was slightly ajar. That’s where Pryor found her on Jan. 8, 2007.
A belt was tied around her neck. The other end of the belt had been tied into the hole of the door knob. Elizabeth was crouched down, kneeling practically, unconscious and slumped to one side.
Gwinnett investigators ruled her death a suicide.
Pryor, a 49-year-old mother of two, thinks not.
Had the youngest of her two daughters wanted to kill herself, she could have done so with prescription drugs and a small cache of alcohol in the family’s Berkeley Lake home.
The notion of a suicide didn’t add up.
Then Pryor recalled the seventh-grader’s behavior as of late — the aggressive and agitated nature, the bloodshot eyes and headaches. Pryor conducted research online and interviewed experts on adolescent behavior. She’s drawn to only one conclusion: Elizabeth probably had been practicing the “Choking Game,” and died that January day while doing it.
Really it’s no game at all. But apparently those who try it cut off the flow of oxygenated blood to the brain, then release it to create a euphoric rush. Someone doing this alone may lose consciousness and be unable to unhinge him or herself, according to deadlygameschildren play.com, a Web site dedicated to awareness and prevention.
And that’s what Pryor suspects befell Elizabeth.
She decided to publicize her story after the nonprofit Gwinnett Coalition for Health and Human Services released its 2006 Youth Teen Health survey results this month. It found that high-risk behavior among middle school and high school-age kids is on the rise.
Pryor says we teach kids about the dangers of drugs, alcohol and sex, but let a potentially deadly game that has several names (Space Monkey, Space Cowboy) go unnoticed. Yet it’s just as deadly among children 11 and older.
The Web site, deadlygames childrenplay.com, states that authorities wrongly rule such deaths as suicides. Statistics on the site show that the United States has had 35 victims so far this year.
Pryor says there’s no doubt in her mind the game contributed to Elizabeth’s death.
“I’m much more well-versed on it than I was six months ago, and much more versed than I want to be,” she told me. “The game has been around forever, only now it’s more dangerous because the kids are doing it more and more by themselves.
“Do you know of anybody who would attempt suicide with a bedroom door open and the light on?”
To contact Diane Pryor, call 770-363-8000 or e-mail dpryor311@comcast.net. For more information about the “Choking Game,” visit the Web site, http://deadlygameschildrenplay.com.
Patient desperately needs flight to Boston
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
If you have ideas on how to get Jack Stabinsky to Boston, contact Dick Deacon at 770-963-0216 or 770-862-4290.
He was 32 at the time, a fit foreman for a landscape construction company.
One day in 1985 while on the job, a tightness developed in Jack Stabinsky’s calves and legs. His mind told his appendages to move. They didn’t.
Now 53, his legs don’t work at all and he can’t control his bowels. He uses an electric scooter and wears a catheter. For the last year, he has lived in the Life Care Center of Gwinnett, a nursing home in Lawrenceville that offers palliative care.
He’s preparing for the day when his multiple sclerosis, a disease of the central nervous system, worsens. When that happens, he wants to be in the Boston Home, a century-old nursing home in Massachusetts that specializes in long-term care for adults with physical disabilities. Many of its patients have multiple sclerosis.
Stabinsky had been on a waiting list for one of the center’s 96 beds for several months. Good news arrived Friday. He’s in.
Now, there’s another challenge. Getting there.
He has to find a way to get to Boston from Lawrenceville with consideration given to his medical condition and tight budget. The last resort would be a 20-hour drive by medical van, something he ought not endure given his health.
“We’re looking at every option,” Stabinsky said. “Whatever it takes, we’re going to do it.”
The best mode of transport would be air travel, and that’s what Stabinsky’s friends, mainly Dick Deacon of the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation’s local chapter, are working to secure.
Deacon’s cellphone rang Monday while we were en route to visit Stabinsky. Someone was calling with details about a “mercy flight.” Deacon pulled to the side of the road.
“Twelve thousand dollars — that’s out of the question,” Deacon told the caller.
He and others have been calling corporations and nonprofits in hopes of landing a jet and pilot to fly Stabinsky. They’ve been checking with commercial airlines about ticket prices and accommodations. Deacon, who’s been slowed by multiple sclerosis to the point that he uses a walker, hopes someone will read this column and contact him with ideas, resources, help.
“It’s a miracle and answer to our prayers that Jack got in,” he told me. “Right now, we have to get him there.”
Time is of the essence.
The Boston Home, founded in 1881, can’t hold a bed. Demand’s too high.
“We can’t hold a bed for him for a month,” said Norma Harrington of admissions. “But we have given Mr. Stabinsky some wiggle room.”
That ends Monday.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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Being needled never felt so good
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
It’s been five months since I had my first acupuncture treatment from Dr. Jessica Lee of the Dragon Acupuncture and Herb clinic.
Since that time, I’ve gotten a dozen or so e-mails from inquiring minds interested in knowing if the treatment helped put a damper on my sleepless nights and other ailments.
Well, let me say unequivocally and without hesitation that Dr. Lee sent me to dreamland. Every time she treated me, I slept like a log for a good three, sometimes four, consecutive nights. Must have been the moxibustion —- a process in which she burned moxa punk, a dried herb, in a container on or above my skin at various acupuncture points. Could have been the needles, too. Either that, or I just came to expect something good would happen and willed myself to sleep well after visits to the clinic off Steve Reynolds Boulevard.
Apparently, several readers either gave Lee a try or wanted to after my column ran on Jan. 25. An AJC Gwinnett News reporter is confident that Lee’s treatments helped her carpal tunnel syndrome.
Can’t say that for everyone, though.
Peggy Linkous of Sugar Hill saw Lee for three treatments for a bad left hip. It’s still bad. She has to have hip replacement surgery soon. She found no fault with Lee, though.
“I explained the problem to her, but I don’t think she realized how serious this could be,” Linkous said. “The treatments didn’t work, but I wish they had. It’s getting worse. She’s an excellent lady, though, and we thoroughly enjoyed her.”
Unfortunately, Lee’s leaving Gwinnett. Opportunity has come a-knockin’.
A colleague has invited her to join his neurology practice in New York City.
“He’s well-known,” she told me. “Been in community 23 years. He’ll get his patients to trust me.”
Lee’s been telling her clients the news of her departure. They don’t like it, but they understand. Some have asked her to recommend other practi- tioners in the area, something that makes Lee uncomfortable.
“I’m hesitant to do that,” said Lee, who studied at the Tai Hsuan Foundation College of Acupuncture and Herbal Medicine in Honolulu. “I can’t do that. Every acupuncturist is so different and you just don’t know.”
Seems like every time I talk to Lee, she’s either going to a seminar or returning from one. Last week, she’d just gotten back from San Diego, where she got certified in iridology, the scientific study of the eye’s iris.
Practitioners believe the patterns, structures, colors and degrees of lightness and darkness in the iris can help identify weak and strong areas of the body. Lee, who’s been studying the ancient science for years, plans to put it to use in the Big Apple.
The Dragon Acupuncture and Herb clinic will close at the end of this month. Lee plans to sell her herbs at half-price, so now may be the time for you to stock up.
For her, the decision to relocate is bittersweet. Family’s here. Her practice is barely a year old. She’d made inroads into the non-Asian community.
“Of course, I’ll miss my clients,” she told me.
And this one client will surely miss her.
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Book on county will be real tell-all
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Two years ago, Elliott Brack got the idea to set up a student exchange program between the two Duluths — Georgia’s and Minnesota’s.
When he visited the seaport, he’d wanted to take its mayor and schools superintendent something that told Gwinnett’s story.
Brack found nothing to his liking. So the Norcross resident and former associate publisher of AJC Gwinnett News chose to do something about it: Write the county’s history, the stories behind the story of how Gwinnett has become what it is today.
His book, tentatively titled “Gwinnett: A Little Above Atlanta,” is to be self-published this spring. So far, he’s written about 150,000 words, and expects to tap out around 200,000.
“I hope it’s a blockbuster and a substantial reference for years to come,” said Brack, a Macon native who moved to Gwinnett in 1974. “It will include over 100 tables and articles in the appendix, which may add another 100 pages or more.”
No doubt Brack has documented many of the county’s twists and turns. He served as president and general manager of the now-defunct Gwinnett Daily News for 13 years, followed by an equally long stint at AJC Gwinnett News as associate publisher.
Call him Mr. Gwinnett.
Brack retired from newspapers in 2001, but he still wanted to keep his hand in journalism, not to mention the community. He publishes GwinnettForum.com, a free online commentary about local issues, and GeorgiaClips, a digest of the most significant news in the state that is sent to paid subscribers electronically by 8:30 a.m. each business day.
“When I get up in the morning, I need to write to get something out of my soul,” he told me in an e-mail. “I wrote a column six times a week for the Gwinnett Daily Post and four times a week for the AJC.”
Initially, this bespectacled lover of seersucker suits figured he’d belt out the county’s history in six short months. Researching, though, taught him otherwise. The book, he estimates, may reach 500 pages.
“Suddenly I will realize I haven’t included this or that, and there I go again,” he said. “The more I got into it, the more and more stories and topics seemed necessary, so it expanded … into a longer view.”
That longer view traces the county’s major events since 1950. It will include conversations, past and present, that Brack has had with “leaders, wannabes, ordinary people and drivers of the county.
“My wish is for this to become the standard reference on Gwinnett, enlivened with the stories behind the story, making it very readable, and bringing to light material never seen before, often told by the very folks who made the news.”
As for that student exchange between the two Duluths, well, Brack’s still trying to work it out. When — not if — he does, he’ll have something to give the Minnesotans that tells Gwinnett’s story.
And makes Mr. Gwinnett proud.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
Denial won’t help kids beat at-risk behavior
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Ellen Gerstein hopes you’ll call.
Got her number?
It’s 678-376-7887.
Gerstein oversees the Gwinnett Coalition for Health and Human Services, a nonprofit that just released its 2006 youth health survey. More than 30,000 Gwinnett kids — sixth-, seventh-, eighth- and 10th-graders — answered questions about sex, violence, drugs and alcohol.
And it’s not pretty.
The findings show that the number of middle school kids who are having sex, using drugs and binge drinking is on an uptick. High-risk behavior among high-schoolers is cause for concern, too. Nearly 20 percent of them, for example, say they have had three or more intercourse partners.
And that’s why Gerstein wants to hear from parents.
She stands ready to talk to student clubs, school organizations, employers and employees about the survey, what it means for our kids, us, this community. There’s a problem, though.
The community’s denial and complacency. Its inability to grasp — and respond to — reality. The “it’s-not-my-child syndrome.” Tin ears.
Now, more than ever, Gerstein says that has to change. Local agencies that deal with high-risk adolescent behavior are stretched. So it’s up to what Gerstein calls “the first line of defense” to rally.
“It’s up to kids and parents themselves,” she told me. “They really should be the ones dealing with this.”
The last county youth health survey was done several years ago, in 2000. Those findings weren’t as alarming as the spring 2006 results, but they were a forewarning.
Then, as now, Gerstein offered up the coalition’s services. Then, as now, tips and resources were made available to the public. Then, as now, Gerstein volunteered to give presentations. She got few requests.
“We can’t get anybody to pay attention to it,” she told me. “We can’t get anybody to respond.”
Then she stressed a significant point, something she wants us all to understand: This survey isn’t about “those people” over there. You know what she’s talking about — how certain community clusters like Meadowcreek or Berkmar get labeled problem areas. This survey reflects all schools — high schools like Meadowcreek and Brookwood, and middle schools like Trickum and Lilburn. Everybody and anybody.
Your children, perhaps.
“Because we have this information by school, every corner in Gwinnett County has these problems,” she said. “No one can point the finger, so to speak, and say, ‘It’s over there.’ It’s everywhere.”
So what are you waiting for? Check out the 2007 Youth Health Risk Survey results at www.gwinnettcoalition.org. Then, go ahead. Make the call to Gerstein.
Again, that number is 678-376-7887.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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You’re your kid’s parent, not a barkeep
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
In April, a high school senior died after boozing it up at an after-prom party.
Leland “Lee” Martin, 18, of Winder, suffocated because he, drunkenly, laid in a position that cut off his breath. “Positional asphyxia,” it’s called.
The April 28 party was held at the Auburn home of Barbara Ann Michael. She was out of town at the time, but authorities say she knew underage drinking would take place. Michael was charged with one count of party to a crime of furnishing alcohol to a minor, among other things.
Apparently, when it comes to kids and alcohol, hers is the face of a peculiar breed of adults. They supply the pad, maybe help teens secure the six-packs or whiskey for the hunch punch.
That, at least, is the impression 32,373 Gwinnett kids gave in a survey that asked about alcohol consumption.
The 2006 youth health survey, conducted by the nonprofit Gwinnett Coalition for Health and Human Services, contains startling data about the lives our kids lead.
The response to one question in particular, though, caused my brow to crease: More than 50 percent of high school students say they have used alcohol.
Guess where they get it? About a third say they get it from family members or some other adult.
And that’s a shame, especially where it concerns parents.
It’s a pitiful sight to observe a parent who’s more friend than teacher, nurturer or disciplinarian to their offspring. Their kids run the show.
Call me old-fashioned, country, out of touch, whatever, but children should have a healthy fear of their parents. I’m not talking about a fear fueled by abuse, but one based on mutual respect, and an understanding of roles and rules, right and wrong, what’s condoned and unacceptable.
That can’t happen when you replace the label of parent with one that spells “bud,” “pal,” “equal.” It’s a dangerous path to tread, especially when you throw in alcohol, the drug most abused by minors.
I’d imagine parents who provide alcohol to teens consider themselves well-meaning and practical, that they justify their actions by saying that kids are going to drink anyway. That’s so wrong.
Illegal, too.
Just ask Michael, the Auburn woman accused of allowing underage drinking in her home.
Ellen Gerstein, the coalition’s executive director, suggests parents go to the nonprofit’s Web site (www.gwinnettcoalition.org.) and download the survey. It includes tips for parents and resources.
“I talk to parents who say their kids don’t drink, but how do they know what kids are doing when they go to a friend’s house?” Gerstein said. “Parents are the first line of defense.”
Let me close with one other tell-tale stat from the survey: Most high school students don’t think adults would disapprove of their alcohol use.
Maybe that’s because so many parents give it to them.
• Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or e-mail rbadie@ajc.com.
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