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November 2007
“Don’t confuse Red Sky with a coffeehouse”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
When it comes to chain stores, Gwinnett seems to possess at least one or two of everything imaginable.
It’s nice to find an independent business among the sameness, and on Wednesday the Badie Tour stopped by a popular Buford establishment to see what was brewing, who might drop in.
The Red Sky Cafe & Coffeehouse sits off Buford Highway, across from the post office. The aroma of coffee greets you as soon as you step inside. While that’s warm and welcoming, don’t be fooled. The Red Sky is more restaurant than coffeehouse, and its owners are revving up to focus on catering, too.
Hot drinks may be a perfect warm-me-up, but declaring them your primary menu attraction can prove to be a tough way to make a living. You have to sell a heap of them to turn a profit. In Gwinnett, we’ve seen several coffeehouses come and go, regardless of popularity or java quality.
Just this month, Main Street Coffee Shop on the Duluth town square shuttered its doors, shy of a one-year anniversary. And Bill Luebben, the original owner of the Northern Star Coffee House, located at 45 S. Peachtree St. in downtown Norcross, has had to bring in a part-owner, Keith Shewbert, a Norcross councilman.
This new team may want to consider practicing what Red Sky owners Pam and Buddy Chandler do - be more than a barista, branch out, offer an intriguing menu with staples and occasional new items. Constantly tweak the menu, serve what sells, discontinue what doesn’t.
The eatery’s specials, be they daily or seasonal offerings, are test entrees that might one day get a permanent spot on the menu.
“I don’t tell people I own a coffeehouse, said Pam Chandler, a Buford native who prefers Coke over coffee. “I tell them I own a restaurant that serves coffee. I couldn’t survive just being a coffeehouse. That was obvious.”
So the Red Sky draws more than caffeine connoisseurs and aroma addicts. It’s the gathering spot for all - north Gwinnett educators, church groups, businessmen, construction workers, hipsters and journalists.
AJC Gwinnett News reporter Rebecca McCarthy, who writes about Buford, logs on to her laptop there at least once a week. The Badie Tour pulled up for a few hours Wednesday to see who might pull up a seat.
Earlier this week, I wrote a column saying that the tour would return to its original purpose - a vehicle to meet people who call Gwinnett home. Readers were invited to drop by the Red Sky to say hello.
A few took me up on it. People talked about the usual issues - traffic, sprawl and the housing slump.
Stephanie Kratofil, a married mom of two school-age girls, talked about education. She’s a substitute teacher at Lanier Middle School who had this to say about the majority of county educators she’s come across:
“They are really dedicated,” she told me, “and really underappreciated.”
So how about showing teachers some gratitude?
Buy them a cup of coffee.
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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“Badie tour will return to its original purpose”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Some things take on a life unto themselves.
They start out one way, then become something totally different.
Which brings me to the Badie Tour, now a year old. It began as a vehicle to get me off the phone, out of the office, and among you, the people who live, work and play in Gwinnett.
Every Wednesday, I was supposed to set up shop - in a City Hall, coffeehouse, anywhere, really, that put me in touch. While that’s been accomplished somewhat, it hasn’t happened as planned, in a fashion preferred. So the plan is to return to the tour’s original premise.
The Badie Tour debuted Oct, 18, 2006, at the Snellville Recycling Center. Surely, Mayor Jerry Oberholtzer called in favors. Dozens of folk dropped by to say hello, press flesh, and most important, talk about their neighborhoods, their homes, our county. The good and the bad.
A week later, I was at a Dunkin’ Donuts on Jimmy Carter Boulevard. Residents offered an earful about neighborhood concerns - weedy lots, excessive numbers of people living in one dwelling and other code violations. As their communities decayed, so did their hopes regarding homeownership.
During this stop, Sylvenia Doby told me she moved to the Brookville subdivision off Williams Road about 12 years ago. She’d spent $30,000 to add a sunroom, lay sod and dig a fish pond. She posed a question that turned out to be on many minds:
“What can we do?”
Her query spawned a series of columns about Gwinnett’s quality of life, its perceived or real demise, the government’s response. Readers posted comments online, called and e-mailed to share their stories, to say that similar unsavory situations festered around them, too.
Then, at some point in the first year of the tour, it took a detour, not for the worse, necessarily, but away from its origins. Columns on places and events became de rigueur. Uncle Doug’s Fresh Cuts barbershop. The Gwinnett Transit System. The Gwinnett Arena. The Elisha Winn House.
These places and others are worth writing about, and I will continue to do so. But Thursday’s columns are based on Wednesday’s tours and that makes them unique. Methinks a change is in order.
And that would be a renewed focus on you - the people, your passions, pains, concerns, stories.
People like Jean Evans, known as “Mama Jean.” She decorates the front yard of her Lawrenceville home to reflect themes - Christmas, Halloween, Sept. 11, 2001, and so on.
Artists like Reginald “Smitty” Highsmith of Snellville, a scroller who honors fallen U.S. soldiers by crafting free wooden portraits for their families.
And individuals like Craig A. Molnar, the late homeless man who gave a face to the county’s homeless.
Interesting people abound. With your help, I’d like to find more of them. If you can spare the time, drop by the Red Sky Cafe & Coffeehouse, 2033 Buford Highway, around 11 a.m. Wednesday.
The Badie Tour will be there. In search of its roots.
And yours.
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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“Eye test can transform a child’s entire world”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Every morning turned into a tug-of-war when it came time for preschool.
Annai Jimenez, 5, didn’t want to go. She’d latch onto mom and refuse to enter her classroom at Seven Oaks Academy in Lilburn.
“She’d cry and cry and cry,” said Silvia Cabrera of Lilburn. “It was a big problem for us.”
The family didn’t know why till the preschool held a vision pre-screening for its charges. Annai failed. Her parents had her eyes examined again by a doctor. Annai needed glasses.
Apparently, her poor vision contributed to her angst toward school. If it weren’t for the screening, the problem could have gone undetected for years.
“I am so thankful,” Cabrera told me. “We had no idea.”
The free screenings were performed by Prevent Blindness Georgia, a state eye health and safety organization. The organization trained nursing students to screen the Seven Oaks prekindergartners.
Statewide, Prevent Blindness Georgia expects to screen about 30,000 4-year-olds this year. The organization has so far tested more than 1,000 Gwinnett kids. Last school year, the organization screened 2,279 prekindergartners at 43 local schools and child care centers. The screenings are paid with gifts, donations and those $1 contributions from driver’s license renewals.
Good eyesight, obviously, is critical to education. If you can’t see the numbers and letters well, learning becomes difficult. Might lead to behavior problems, too.
And there’s the possibility of permanent vision loss, especially when a 4-year-old favors a “good eye” over a “bad eye,” said Jenny Pomeroy, president of Prevent Blindness Georgia.
“Four is the age the brain matures to a point that vision can be turned off in one eye,” she said. “The child quits using the eye that [he or she] doesn’t see out of as well, even if there’s not a significant difference in the vision. We want to find those 4-year-olds because this can result in permanent vision loss in the child.”
Pomeroy said kids with vision issues may not know that they see differently from other people. They don’t tell their parents. They assume it’s normal. Screenings, generally, are the only way to detect problems.
The parents at Seven Oaks were like Annai’s. They had no idea their kids had vision issues. Of 89 kids screened, 19 received referrals for further testing. Of the 19, 10 now wear glasses, said Barbara Myers, a spokeswoman for Prevent Blindness Georgia.
Myers praised Mika Patel, a Seven Oaks resource coordinator, for encouraging parents to take their children to the eye doctor.
“Sometimes that doesn’t happen,” she said.
At first, Annai didn’t want to wear her new glasses. She didn’t want to be different. When she saw how they helped her vision, though, she saw the light. Now she wears them every day.
And she doesn’t put up a fight about preschool anymore.
For more information about Prevent Blindness Georgia, visit www.preventblindness.org./georgia/
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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“Sibling survivor grows from loss’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Often, they are the forgotten mourners - the brothers and sisters left on Earth to sort through a sibling’s death.
After his older brother, Chris, died nearly 13 years ago, Scott Mastley looked long and hard for books that addressed surviving siblings. He found plenty of information on the grieving process, but nothing written by people who had experienced what he was going through.
So in 1998, Mastley wrote and self-published his own book, “Surviving a Sibling: Discovering Life After Loss.” It deals with real-life examples (Mastley’s and others’) and includes surveys conducted on bereaved siblings and parents. The 16 chapters and 213 pages also include information on counseling and sibling support groups.
On Dec. 5, 1994, Chris Mastley, then 27, was killed in a traffic accident in Alabama. He was a pharmaceutical salesperson en route to a hospital in Dothan. He ran a stop sign and was hit by a car crossing the intersection.
These two brothers were close. When both were enrolled at Vanderbilt University, they pledged the same fraternity, Phi Kappa Psi. Chris earned a bachelor’s degree in economics; Scott transferred to the University of Georgia, where he earned undergrad and master’s degrees.
Shortly before Chris died, he’d gotten a job in Atlanta and had big plans: Buy a house. Marry his sweetheart. Rent a room to his little brother, his one and only sibling.
“He was a great, great big brother,” said Mastley, who lives in Suwanee.
Today, Mastley oversees Mastley Performance Group, a consulting firm in Duluth that specializes in human resources and safety. The married father of two girls also speaks to sibling support groups in metro Atlanta.
Of all the chapters in the book, Mastley says Chapter No. 5 - “Whys and What Ifs” - resonates with readers the most. It deals with questions grieving siblings often ask themselves, the psychological punishment they inflict.
“That’s what drives people insane,” Mastley, 38, said.
For example, Mastley kept asking himself why Chris ran the stop sign; why he didn’t take a different route to the hospital. He addresses this in his book.
“It’s OK to wonder, but it is unhealthy to burden myself with questions that have no ultimate answers,” he wrote. “It is up to me to decide what I believe and to accept the answers that I can live with.”
Mastley hopes the book empowers others to move on, to keep living. He knows what it’s like to live with the grief, the pain, the dread that, if allowed, can suffocate on days like today, Thanksgiving.
In the book’s conclusion, Mastley says he tells himself every morning that he’s healthy, happy and energetic.
Some days, he writes, it’s even true.
Scott Mastley will speak at 7 p.m. Dec. 1 at a candlelight remembrance ceremony at First Christian Church of Atlanta, hosted by the Compassionate Friends of Atlanta. Details: http://www.tcfatlanta.org. For more information on Mastley, visit “http://www.survivingasibling.com.
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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Prayer works; answer isn’t always, ‘yes’
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She called early Sunday morning, before service. The stranger said she had a brain tumor.
She told Sharon Watkins, the pastor, that she wanted Tucker First United Methodist Church to pray for her.
The congregation learned of the unusual call during “known concerns,’ that time of the service where we acknowledge those who are at home or in the hospital, ill. Then, we pray for them.
Last week, the issue of prayer turned very public when Gov. Sonny Perdue held a prayer vigil for rain. It made national news. Whoopi Goldberg, the comedian/actress, defended him on a recent episode of “The View.” Skeptics criticized his faith-based approach to the drought. Some called it an embarrassment to the state, a political stunt, a joke from an administration that’s done too little, much too late.
Nowadays, we see various public displays of people praying, giving thanks. Some football players drop to their knee to say a prayerful thank-you for scoring six points. At award shows, those rappers who put the most vile lyrics to beats thank God for their success.
It’s not my place to judge their sincerity. Yours neither.
So rather than “go there,” let’s flip the script. Think about those who embrace no institution of faith; who have no desire to explore it; who shun belief in, or even the slightest acknowledgement of, any kind of higher being or spirituality.
What do they credit for their blessings? Better yet, when times prove difficult, seemingly unbearable, to whom or what do they turn for relief?
On April 4, 1993, Tommy Tomlinson wrote a form letter to his dearest friends. A nagging hoarse throat had turned out to be a tumor. Doctors removed a mass about as big around as the fingernail on the pinky finger from one of his vocal cords. Additional treatment was needed. If successful, he’d be left with a raspy voice - “like Joe Cocker on a two-pack-a-day habit,” he wrote.
For those of us who would want to help, Tomlinson made a suggestion.
“If you’re the praying kind, pray,” he wrote. “If you’re not, build up good karma however you can.”
Today, Tomlinson is an award-winning columnist for The Charlotte Observer, a 2005 finalist for the Pulitzer Prize in commentary.
Thank science and medicine. But don’t discount what his friends tapped into - faith, spirituality, positive thoughts and energy. In other words, “prayers.” And if Tomlinson had left us, if his surgery had failed, that still wouldn’t have been a reason to say, unequivocally and absolutely, that prayer can’t work. You don’t always get what you want, when you want it.
After Sunday service, Debbie Carlton, the associate pastor, told me that the woman who’d called Tucker First UMC had planned to call churches across the metro area and ask for prayers.
Maybe she called yours.
Don’t let her down.
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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“An emerging war: rustic versus retail”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The issue is bigger, really, than strawberries and strip malls.
Crown Point Properties of Loganville wants to build a 94,200-square-foot strip center at Ga. 20, Willowwind Drive and Bay Creek Road. The project would eat up 10 acres of a popular pick-and-pay strawberry field at Washington Farms near Loganville.
Opponents jokingly call themselves the “strawberry people.” They have passed out fliers, rallied neighbors and implored the county to stop the project. They even have a blog (www.savethestrawberryfields.blogspot.com).
Last week, the “strawberry people” e-mailed an invitation for the Badie Tour to visit their little corner of Gwinnett. Even offered to serve coffee and a strawberry-themed treat. Given the holiday deadline for my Thursday column, though, a tour stop wasn’t possible before Nov. 27. That’s when the Gwinnett County Board of Commissioners is to consider whether to grant a rezoning request that would pave the way for the paving over of the strawberry field.
The “strawberry people” are to be commended for their efforts. Democracy in action. They were given hope on Nov. 6, when the Gwinnett County Planning Commission recommended denial of the project. The drought and water consumption, the body said in a 7-1 vote, were reason enough to say no.
I don’t know how much weight county officials will give that recommendation. There are other factors to weigh, though. We live in a county whose modus operandi seems to be build-now, worry later. Quality-of-life suffers because of it. Some commercial and residential developments clog roads, pack schools and strain other segments of the infrastructure.
Ridiculously so.
Diane N. Bates, one of the “strawberry people,” says there’s evidence aplenty in the shape of empty buildings and vacant offices on Ga. 20 between Grayson and Loganville. She blames a “build it and they will come environment,” one that has prevailed in the county for years.
No matter where they live in Gwinnett, even the most aloof residents would have to say “amen.” Nail salons, sub shops, cleaners and wing joints rule the roost. Hard to make sense of it all. And because of that, some of us tend to see red when the county green lights certain projects.
Still, we can’t forget one pesky, pertinent factor. Landowners pretty much have the right to do what they please with their land. No, it’s not absolute. But as long as it’s in accordance with zoning classifications _ or in the case of the Loganville project, acceptable rezoning requests _ it’s allowable.
The Loganville issue highlights another issue, too, something District 3 Commissioner Mike Beaudreau calls an emerging “tug of war.” It pits development against rural, or semi-rural, enclaves. Rustic versus retail, if you will.
People like Diane and Lamar Bates were attracted to Loganville’s country flavor. Open space. Llama and horse farms. Tranquility. Two-lane roads. Bay Creek Road is so narrow that, when a car and truck approach in opposite directions, one has to stop so the other may pass.
Then, next thing you know, retail/office centers started popping up. One after the other. Keep this up, residents reason, and they’ll soon live near another Memorial Drive or U.S. 78. They don’t want that.
So the “strawberry people” fight.
Several years ago, the same parcel of property in Loganville was slated for a gas station. Residents raised up then, too. For whatever reasons, the developer pulled out.
Opponents of the current proposed project hope for a repeat.
That way, they can have their strawberry field a little longer, but it’s doubtful it will last forever.
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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“Santa says dream big: What’s your wish for Gwinnett?”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
I didn’t sit on his lap.
But I did get the chance to sit next to him when kids weren’t around. The Badie Tour stopped by Discover Mills mall on Wednesday to shore up my wish list for the county. (More on that later.)
Last year, this mall had one of the most authentic-looking Santas I’d ever seen. A real-beard guy. This year’s St. Nick didn’t disappoint. That’s because he’s Richard Warren Hyman, the same Santa the Lawrenceville mall employed last year to coax kids into talking and to quiet babies who don’t understand why mom has thrust them into the arms of a stranger in a red suit.
He’s played Santa for 37 years, all over the world, thanks to a career as an aviation security adviser with the Federal Aviation Administration.
Last December, I wrote about Hyman - how real he looked; how popular he’d been with shoppers; and how he seemed genuinely interested in giving the kids, and their parents, a joyful experience.
This year is no different.
Glynis Riescher and Ryan, her 5-year-old son, happened to stop by Santa’s Shop the same time as the Badie Tour. Ryan was the first kid Santa talked to when the shop reopened at 2 o’clock.
“I just have one thing I want,” Ryan told me before climbing atop Santa’s lap. “A [toy] baseball stadium.”
Of course, he just might get it. After all, you have to believe - in the magic, spirit, the goodwill of the season. It’s truly the most wonderful time of the year despite the craziness of midnight madness sales and such. It’s a message that Hyman, of Snellville, proudly portrays and tries to convey to kids, especially teens.
Once older kids learn where the gifts come from, they start to shun St. Nick. Like it’s a rite of passage. And in Hyman’s opinion, a very misguided one.
See, it’s not whether you believe in Santa, the person in the red suit. Just respect the bigger picture, the meaning of it.
“When I was young, kids believed in Santa, the spirit and magic of it, if you will, till they were 12 or 13 years old,” said Hyman, 61, who has chatted with about 800 kids since the Santa shop opened Saturday.
“They used to run to Santa. Growing up today, by the age of 6 or 7, they shy away when they see one. Why take the excitement, that sense of Christmas, away from a child” Why not leave them with memories and let them enjoy them when they are older?”
For you Grinches, well, Hyman has a suggestion. Make a wish list. Dream big.
To that end, I compiled a county wish list. My wishes are that Santa helps us:
*Combat crime.
*Stick to the land-use plan.
*Be more attentive to our youth.
*Exhibit more goodwill to the needy.
*Build a homeless shelter.
*Live the true meaning of the holiday season every single day.
You’ve seen Rick’s wish list. What about yours? What would you ask Santa to do for Gwinnett? Tell us about it at www.ajc.com/gwinnett.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or rbadie@ajc.com. �
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“Parents find comfort helping others”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
He’d just landed a big contract for his employer.
Hours before, he and his mother had a great chat on the phone. It was the last time they spoke.
“That conversation has been a comfort to me through the years,” said Janice Pattillo, recalling the exchange that took place that March day in 1998.
That same day, Michael Pattillo’s vehicle was T-boned by a large truck in Forsyth County. Pattillo, 24, a salesman for a hardware supply company, had to be extracted by the Jaws of Life.
Parents aren’t supposed to bury their kids.
Yet that’s where Janice and Wayne Pattillo found themselves, saying goodbye to their oldest son, the one who loved sports, his grandparents and friends.
After Michael’s death, the Lawrenceville couple became activists. The female driver of the truck that hit Michael’s vehicle suffered from epilepsy. It’s possible she had suffered a seizure when the accident took place, and she may not have been on her meds.
Because of that, the Pattillos lobbied for a law to charge people who have such medical conditions with first-degree vehicular homicide, if it could be proven that they had not taken their medicine. The proposal didn’t get passed, though.
One success story has been the establishment of a scholarship at Gwinnett Technical College, where Michael earned an associate’s degree. Every May, a $500 scholarship is awarded to the student who attended school and worked full time, yet still earned good grades. It’s what Michael did.
The Pattillos also have joined hands with The Compassionate Friends (TCF), a national bereavement support group for families based in Oak Park, Ill. They learned about TCF shortly after their son’s death. At the time, though, they were too deep in grief to grasp the importance of the organization.
In May 1998, the Pattillos attended their first TCF chapter meeting at the First Baptist Church of Lawrenceville. Pattillo was supposed to speak. She couldn’t. She just sobbed. She also connected with people who know what it’s like to lose a son or daughter. Who truly know.
Others may try to relate, but how can they?
Pattillo said that family and friends often are unsure of what to say, so they say much of nothing. Or, they think it would prove too painful for the bereaved parents to mention the deceased child.
“This is very hurtful,” she said.
TCF chapters keep the memory of the deceased child alive and aid the healing. The child’s birthday and death anniversary are observed at monthly meetings. Picnics are held in the fall.
For the past 10 years, TCF chapters nationwide have taken part in a candle-lighting ceremony to remember and pay tribute to lost love ones. The local chapter plans to hold its event at 7 p.m. Dec. 9 at Rhodes Jordan Park in Lawrenceville.
“This is our gift to the bereavement community,” Pattillo said.
The Gwinnett chapter of The Compassionate Friends meets at 7:30 p.m. on the third Thursday of every month at First Baptist Church of Lawrenceville. For more information, contact Janice Pattillo, co-leader of the local TCF chapter, at jspattillo1@aol.com.
Rick Badie’s column appears on Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Contact him at 770-263-3875 or rbadie@ajc.com.
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“1st” paratroopers proved black men could jump”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Many of us know about the Tuskegee Airmen, America’s first black military airmen. At the very least, we’ve heard of them.
But what do you know about the Triple Nickles?
Honestly, I’d never heard of them till I talked to Robert Sample, a former paratrooper and military history buff. His interest is in black pioneers, their little-known stories and historic “firsts.”
Which led to his discovery of the Triple Nickles. The name itself intrigues. It stands for the 555th Parachute Infantry Division. 1944. World War II. A group of 16 black men became the nation’s first black paratroopers.
“It’s a history that’s untold,” said Sample, 62, of Norcross. “It’s not in the history books.”
When it comes to race and gender, this country loves “firsts.” The first black coach to win a Super Bowl (Tony Dungy of the Indianapolis Colts). The first woman to oversee the Georgia Department of Transportation (Gena Abraham). We applaud and acknowledge them, the cultural change, the penetration of so-called glass ceilings.
Back in the day, though, the significance of being “first” carried more cachet, notably for blacks. Back when “colored” and “white” signs were on public water fountains and bathrooms. Back when the military, like our society, lawfully segregated. Black officers couldn’t lounge in the officers’ club. Black infantrymen were assigned menial jobs.
Yet years before the military integrated, the Triple Nickles persevered. They performed the best with what they had, with the system they had to work within and proved the naysayers wrong.
Black men could jump.
The unit didn’t see World War II combat, but it still served. It was mobilized to fight forest fires in the West caused by Japanese incendiary balloons. Some original members of the Triple Nickles got to see combat during the Korean War as part of the 2nd Ranger Infantry Company, according to the Web site for the 555th Parachute Infantry Association, Inc., an alumni outfit.
Today, three members are still alive, including Joseph L. Murchison, president of the Tampa-based association. He said the nation’s first black paratroopers, like so much history, aren’t well known.
Something to ponder on Veterans Day.
“Black folk nowadays have never heard of the Triple Nickles,” Murchison said. “They don’t even know the army was segregated.”
Sample does.
And when it comes to the Triple Nickles, he’s a walking history. He first heard of the unit in 1995 at a veterans hospital in Philly, his hometown. He eventually joined a Triple Nickles chapter there and started giving speeches and presentations.
Now, he hopes to do the same here. He moved to Gwinnett about two years ago to be near family. A son, Talib Sample, 28, is a Marine stationed at Dobbins Air Force Base.
“Georgia is a patriotic state - red, white, blue, apple pie, Chevrolet, all those things,” Sample told me. “So I think people will be interested in this. I want to concentrate on high schools and colleges so young kids can know what African-Americans really went though, how they worked with it and opened doors to make things better.”
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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“P.E. teacher’s novel idea gets kids moving toward fitness”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Every January, my gym swells with newcomers.
People with good intentions. They make a New Year’s resolution to get off the couch, to stop being sedentary, to get back into the habit of exercise. Or to make exercising a priority for the first time in their lives.
Bad habits may be hard to break. Well, some good ones are hard to adopt. Committing to exercise is one of them. I see it all the time. By the end of February, the new faces in Gold’s Gym of Lilburn have long faded.
It pays to instill the importance and enjoyment of physical activity at an early age. To that end, the physical education specialists at Mountain Park Elementary School have taken a novel approach.
It’s called the November Mountain Park Marathon.
It’s the brainchild of Jeffrey Peterson, one of two P.E. instructors at the Lilburn school. He’s toying with running a marathon soon. That idea led him and Todd Kearney to organize a voluntary marathon at the school.
Participants must walk or run a mile every day during this month. They must do so outside of the regular classroom or physical education. A lot of time is logged on the campus track during recess or after school. They also can use treadmills at home or take walks in their neighborhoods.
The students chart their progress, which must be verified by an adult, on a calendar. At the 13-mile mark, participants will receive a pedometer; completion of 26 miles earns them a school T-shirt. It says: “Running a marathon. One mile at a time.”
The race, open to second through fifth grade, has proven to be popular. About 300 of the 500 or so eligible students have signed up. Faculty, too. The PTA is sponsoring the project, one of several monthlong, exercise-related events held on campus.
“The buy-in has been incredible,” said Kearney. “We opened up the activity to the staff, and we have 30 or so participating.”
The South, especially, has a problem with weight. Study after study shows that a great number of Georgia kids are unfit, overweight and inactive. Recently, the 2007 Georgia Youth Fitness Assessment study checked 5,000 fifth- and seventh-graders at schools across the state. It found that 30 percent weighed too much; 44 percent don’t get enough physical activity.
“There’s no debating the stats,” said Peterson, who pegged the health decline on everything from poverty to a society afraid to let kids play outside unattended. “We talk a lot in class about physical activity, the importance of exercise outside the school setting and organized sports. We’re trying to educate them to be what we consider fit for life. I think they get it.”
Fifth-grader Noah Morris said he does. For the marathon, he runs one day, then jogs the next.
Just to break things up a bit.
“I guess I’m getting in shape,” the 10-year-old told me. “It’s better than playing video games all day.”
On Wednesday, the Badie Tour stopped by during recess as fifth-graders took to the asphalt track. Five laps equal a mile. Some walked. Some ran. A few did both. Method didn’t matter. The idea, Kearney and Peterson said, is to promote movement and to hammer home a point:
Physical activity matters.
Now and later.
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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“Do these tract-toters get results?”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
We should never be rude.
It’s not an endearing quality, kids pick up on it, and the Almighty frowns upon it.
But it’s so, so easy to lose sight of all that when you’re in the middle of sweeping the foyer, mopping the kitchen, laundry, trying to get to the gym and to church to help make 1,600 PB&J sandwiches for the homeless - and the doorbell rings.
At 10 o’clock on a Saturday morning.
Two female Jehovah’s Witnesses stood at the door. I don’t know what the they saw first - my face’s pained expression or the broom in hand.
I know very little about the religion’s tenets. I do know that Michael Jackson was - or still is - a convert, and that Prince - Mr. “Purple Rain” himself - has graced a list of famous adherents.
While attending UGA, I worked at a Piggly Wiggly alongside two practitioners. About all the high school teens ever said about the religion was that they didn’t celebrate Christmas, a worthy idea given the holiday’s paganistic, materialistic bent. (Some Gwinnett stores had Christmas decorations up last week.)
Aside from those little factoids, though, I’m clueless. The only other thing I know is that they go door-to-door to spread the gospel. And that’s what I found myself experiencing Saturday - in a frantic hurry, being hit upon, in no mood, really, to listen to a stranger or anybody else talk scripture.
Later, it got me to thinking about this practice of evangelizing, of canvassing neighborhoods door-to-door, handing out pamphlets. How deep is the word being spread going about it this way? I can’t imagine too many inviting responses from the people in the houses. Can’t be too welcoming.
People can be rude, said Tim Talsma, a Jehovah’s Witness since 1961. But mostly, they’re just indifferent.
“A lot of people say they believe in the Bible, but they don’t live by it anymore,” he told me. “You get some rude people, but ‘indifference’ is the best way to describe most people.”
Even if you hide behind the curtains, Talsma, of Cartersville, said the work of the practitioners holds merit.
“When people see us walking through a neighborhood or coming down the street, they know who we are,” he said. “God’s name has been brought to their minds.”
Sharon Watkins, pastor at Tucker First United Methodist Church - my church- inflects her sermons with self-revelations about shortcomings. Sometimes she lets out an “Ouch!” when she names an undesirable quirk or habit, something she knows is wrong, that she wants out of her life.
So I asked:
What’s the best response when someone knocks on the door to talk Bible, while you’re deep in the middle of sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, trying to get to the gym and eventually the church (I didn’t make it in time) to help make 1,600 PB&J sandwiches for the homeless?
“Remember, these people are sincere,” she told me, “or they wouldn’t be doing it. And respect the fact that they are witnessing. You owe them that courtesy.”
Even if you may not feel like giving it.
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 plans to put her feet, legs to work to save her son’s eyes”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
She didn’t muster up the courage to have her son’s eyes examined till he was a kindergartner.
Rhonda S. Timko knew a good chance existed that Max might have choroideremia (pronounced core-oid-uh-ree-mee-ah), a disease that causes blindness. It’s in the family. Her brother, Bernie Nutter of Columbus, Ohio, has it. He was declared legally blind at 38.
“He has three kids of his own,” said Timko of Lilburn. “Now he feels like he’s another one of his wife’s kids. He can see a little. He goes to church and he literally starts to sweat when they start passing the basket. He doesn’t see it. It’s humiliating.”
The disease is caused by a defective gene on the X-chromosome inherited from the parents. Timko doesn’t have the disease, but she’s a carrier. So there was a 50-50 chance that Max, 9, would inherit it. The disease only affects males.
April 13, 2003.
Max has an appointment to see Dr. Joseph Andersen, the Timko’s opthomologist. The retina of a person who has, or carries, the disease looks different - “sort of a lumpy-looking appearance” - said Timko, a married mom of three. Andersen examines the tyke’s retina in a dark room.
Then he signals “yes” to mom.
“I lost it right there at the doctor’s office,’ she said. “At the tender age of 5, Dr. Andersen could tell his retina didn’t look right.”
Timko has spent the last four years educating herself about choroideremia. The rare genetic disorder affects about 5,000 people in the United States and, she learned, there’s scant research and money to pursue a possible cure.
Five years ago, Timko used to be an avid jogger. She’s slowed in recent years, though, due in part to two foot surgeries and a leg surgery.
Now, she’s lacing up again, just like you or I would if Max were our child.
On Nov. 11, she and six friends plan to run the 2007 Outer Banks Marathon in Kitty Hawk, North Carolina. The group is raising pledge money for the 26.2-mile run that will benefit the Foundation Fighting Blindness, a nonprofit whose Web site says it funds research for the prevention, treatment and cure for inherited retinal degenerative diseases.
The marathon itself is not related to their cause. The “Choroideremia Challenge” hopes to raise $25,000.
“I saw my brother go through this and I said, ‘OK God, there’s got to be a reason for this,” said Timko, the team captain. “God doesn’t give you things to deal with for no reason. There’s no support group for this. There’s one other guy in [metro Atlanta] who has it - Erik Weinstock - and we’re taking him with us when we go to the marathon.”
Weinstock, 46, of Atlanta, got his diagnosis in 1975. He was declared legally blind at 25. Nine years ago, he stopped driving. He learned how to use a cane, cook, take a bus, use a computer and other skills at the Center for the Visually Impaired in Atlanta.
He’s the treasurer of the Choroideremia Research Foundation, an international nonprofit that supports eye-disease research. He thinks what Timko’s crew is doing is great.
“Anybody who gives a dollar, I say thank you very much,” he told me.
When it comes to Max’s education, Jerry and Rhonda Timko move at break-neck speed. She home schools the fifth-grader, as well as his two sisters. Max’s already learning pre-Algebra. They want him to get his high school diploma as soon as possible, then move onto college, a la the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. See, there’s no telling how progressive the disease will attack.
“My brother struggled like mad in college with the reading and everything, so we are moving him as rapidly as possible through the curriculum,” Timko said.
“In case there’s not a cure.”
To donate, contact Rhonda Timko at 770-979-0637. For more information, visit www.fightblindness.org./goto/rhonda or www.choroideremia.org.
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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“Fear takes toll on trick-or-treaters’ ranks”
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
There I sat, waiting, loaded with bounty.
Candy corn. Hershey’s Kisses. Starbursts. Sweet-and-sour tarts.
Now all I needed on this Halloween evening were for the ghosts, goblins and witches to drop by. Please. Almost any costume would do. Krueger, Jason, Tinker Bell. Anything but some 10-year-old girl dressed like a French maid.
My neighborhood has kids of all ages, colors, shapes and sizes. They play football, basketball and ride their scooters and bikes all the time. When Halloween rolls around, though, they generally seem to disappear.
In the past few years, few trick-or-treaters trudge to the door and announce in a trill: “Trick-or-treat!”
Generally, people still celebrate Halloween. More do than don’t. According to an AJC Gwinnett News article, a 2006 Gallup poll found that only about 10 percent of Americans object to Halloween on religious grounds. Fine.
I know it’s a pagan holiday, but that moniker seems ill-fitting when it comes to the public’s acknowledgment and celebration of it. Pumpkins. Apple bobbing. Watching, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” And costumes, of course. Harmless stuff. You can’t graduate from dressing like a witch to wanting to actually be one in one night. Same goes for reading fictional accounts about them.
So it’s good to see folk embrace the fun, like the staff did at Gold’s Gym in Lilburn. “The Witch’s Inn,” stated a sign perched on the kiosk. Behind it sat receptionist Cherie Holst, dressed in a witch’s costume.
“I am the Good Witch of the North,” she informed me. “Good witches wear red. Like Wendy, the Good Little Witch. Remember [that comic book character]?”
Actually, no, but I appreciated Holst’s nature. She, like many, knows that Halloween equals fun for those who partake, especially kids, if precautions are taken.
Speaking of precautions, that might be the reason my doorbell has grown increasingly silent on Halloween. Fear. We guard against true evil. Cat torturers. Sickos who might screw with the candy or foul up the fruit. Maybe it was an urban legend, but when I was a kid the story about the kid who bit into a razor-laden apple ran its course.
Sadly, the loss of innocence continues. That’s one reason so many malls, organizations and churches sponsor Halloween events. Most discourage “sinister costumes.” The marquees don’t refer to the gatherings as Halloween, either. It’s a fall festival. Why, just this Sunday, my church - Tucker First United Methodist - hosted one in conjunction with the Baptists, our neighbors.
On Wednesday, similar events took place across Gwinnett. North Metro First Baptist Church expected 1,000 or so at its free festival, a decades-old tradition that attracts young and old, members and nonmembers.
“Our neighborhoods aren’t the safest places anymore,” lamented Lisa Bullard, a church administrative assistant. “Here you can come, have fun, and not worry about the candy you bring home.”
Still, there’s nothing like going door-to-door. Just follow safety tips. Walk in groups. Have an adult with you. Carry flashlights. Only approach houses that appear welcoming, are well-lighted and display signs of Halloween fancy.
Houses like mine, in unincorporated Norcross, decorated with a scarecrow, cobwebs, and pumpkins. The wife and kids’ doing.
At 7 p.m. Wednesday, the Badie Tour was still waiting for a few ghosts and goblins. None had shown. I was on my third piece of chocolate, and from the looks of things, I’d have a bunch left to take to the office.
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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