April 2009 Archives

            Driving past a cow pasture in rural Lawrence, he noticed something lying in a ditch. He stopped to investigate it and discovered it was the murder weapon of a Granada killing four years ago. The criminal killed one person and injured another, and Dan Affalter, recently retired Lawrence police capt. of investigations, was at the center of the discovery.

However, the life of crime scenes and murder weapons was not as glamorous as it seemed. It involved many late nights, weekend hours and being on-call 24/7. Most importantly, it detracted from time with his family.

            "Time away from family was always difficult. I've been called out on birthdays and Thanksgiving dinners, and Christmas holidays. You can't count the number of times that I was not able to be at home," Affalter said.

            Affalter's interest in others' safety began when he was a young child. As a young boy scout, Affalter wanted to be a park ranger growing up. During his adolescent years, he worked as a janitor for the University of Kansas's Athletics Department. Before his involvement in the police department, he took numerous criminal classes through a community college in Wichita at KU.

            In March 1976, Affalter entered the police force as a patrol officer. Only two years later, he discovered his interest in detective work, and entered the Department of Investigations. He stayed there until his retirement in 2008.

            "The actual investigations and the work in the cases were always my favorite part of the job, being involved in the 'who-done-it' . . . and bringing that individual to justice was very rewarding," Affalter said.

            Because most of Affalter's career was spent as a detective, it detracted from family time.

            "When I first married him, he worked from 4 in the afternoon till 2 in the morning, so pretty much when the kids were little, I was raising them without him," Diannia, Dan's wife, said.

            The long hours and 24/7 on-call requirement did not end there though. It lasted his entire career as Dan moved into various positions in the Investigations Department. He worked in the narcotics unit, as a sergeant in Investigations, and as a lieutenant in Investigations, which was later reclassified as captain in 2004.

            As Capt. of Investigations, Affalter supervised crime scenes such as murders, stabbings, gangs, robberies, rapes, crimes against the elderly and natural deaths.

            "People die every day, and you have to figure out how they died--the cause and manner of death," Affalter said. 

            Capt. Tarik Khatib, a former coworker of his, enjoyed working under Affalter from 2002-2008 in the Investigations Department. Khatib recalled his first case in which Affalter stepped out of his comfort zone. It was a double homicide case in 2002, and Affalter backed away and allowed Khatib to manage the case for the first time.

            "He was the kind of supervisor that would let you explore your abilities. He wouldn't micro-manage you. But at the same time, you knew he was always going to be there to step in if it looked like you were going to trip," Khatib said.

            Affalter's hard work resulted in many awards throughout and after his career with the Police Department. In recent years he received the Meritorious Service Award and the Star of Excellence Award, both for his overall performance in the Police Department. His hard work resulted in solving 100 percent of his cases.

            In addition to his hard work with the Police Department, Affalter was an avid volunteer in the community. He was a scout master for his son Danny's Boy Scout troop, the regional coordinator for the Hunter Education Program, which teaches safe hunting procedures to first time hunters, and volunteered on the board of directors for Shelter Inc., a company that provides programs to children.

            Affalter retired from the Police Department in December 2008. His retirement now allows him more family time. With more free time, Affalter said he hopes to spend more time hunting, fishing, riding his motorcycle and time with his family.

            "When I'm here, I try to take him hunting, fishing, [and] take him outdoors as much as possible," Danny, Dan's son, said.

Despite all the hard work and lost family time, Khatib, Diannia and Danny all agreed he seemed happy with his job.

"He lived for police work . . . He dedicated absolutely his whole adult life to police work," Khatib said.

    When Diane Stoddard's youngest son was born in 2005, she faced something few parents ever have to think about. Her son had a heart defect and needed surgery. The situation challenged her to find the best possible treatment, but it brought out the best of her abilities.
    Susan Cook, Stoddard's sister-in-law, said Stoddard was surprisingly together considering that her young son had to have surgery at such a young age.
    "I only saw her one time when my son was graduating from high school," Cook said. "It was the day before they went to Dallas; I saw her cry. I would cry every day thinking about my baby going in to have a heart surgery. She's strong. That's what I tell her."


    Stoddard said she worked to overcome the situation the best she could.
    "One of my biggest challenges early with him was that I didn't know what he had, and I felt very much out of control," Stoddard said. "And I'm a person who's not accustomed to that. So I tried to figure out how I could get more control over something that came out of the blue. I decided to use the skill that I had in my job and apply it to this thing with my son. I learned everything I could about his type of defect."
    The organization and persistence that aided her with her son are some of the same skills Stoddard uses in her job as an assistant city manager for the City of Lawrence.
    Stoddard endlessly researched her son Adam's condition, transposition of the great arteries. She finally found the optimal treatment, a specialized procedure developed by Dr. Hisashi Nikaidoh of the Children's Medical Center in Dallas. Her son needed one surgery soon after birth, another when he was one year old, and he'll need another at the end of May.
    In her job, Stoddard supports the city manager in making sure the city operates smoothly, and she specifically works with the police and fire unions, economic development activities, the department of utilities and the transit system.
    "It's just been fascinating," Stoddard said. "It's really a great career for somebody who wants to be a lifelong learner because there's plenty of opportunity to keep learning and apply what you learned."
    Stoddard became interested in city government when she took part in Lawrence High School's "Youth in Government" program and saw how the city commission and city manager's office worked. After completing an undergraduate degree at the University in political science in 1992, she joined KU's public administration master's program and graduated in 1995.
    One thing people notice right away about Diane is her ability to work well with others, said John Nalbandian, professor of public administration.
    "I think the thing that stood out for me with Diane was her compassion and her concern for others, putting others before herself," Nalbandian said. "I think that can really work well for a public servant. That's her formula."


     Stoddard was born and raised in Lawrence. She worked in Manhattan for 11 years and in Ottawa for two years before deciding to move back to Lawrence.
When Stoddard got the chance to move back to her hometown in 2007, she knew it was what she wanted to do. Family had always been one of the most important things in her life, and she wanted to be close to them after leaving in 1994.
    "The job was a unique opportunity, and as equal of a draw for me to be able to come back and be with my family," Stoddard said. "The timing was really right. My dad has Alzheimer's, so being able to be back and give me mom support with that has really been a help."
    While living in Manhattan, Stoddard often came back to visit. But Stoddard's mother, Dorothy Cook, said her daughter wanted to be even closer.
    "She wasn't that far away, but the thing was she missed being able to jump in a car and see us in five minutes," Cook said.
    Stoddard and her husband, Brian, ultimately decided it was worth it to move back to Lawrence.
    "We just figured that there were a lot of things we were missing from being far away," Brian Stoddard said. "So we decided to do it. Family is probably the most important reason why we're here."
    Stoddard's two sons, nine-year-old Nathan and three-year-old Adam, add an essential dimension to her life, she said.
    "They're just great boys," Diane Stoddard said. "It's just been such a joy to be a mother and have that balance in my life. Kids have a wonderful way of making you see what's important."
    Family will always come first in Diane Stoddard's life. She said working and living in her hometown has been a blessing.
    "I have the great fortune of being able to live here and have all my immediate family live here with me," Diane Stoddard said. "I haven't really been very far away from my family, which is by design. I really cherish the time I have with them."

As part of his latest research, Bezaleel S. Benjamin dons a rubber suit and, on occasion, stands on his head to walk on the ceiling.

Benjamin, 71, shrugs off acrobatic activity. He used a mattress, he said. And he used to do yoga.

Benjamin doesn't use a lot of space for his experiments. He just has his office.

His office in Marvin Studios has the same linoleum floor, old-school blackboard and metal bookshelves as many other University workplaces. But few offices have seen such varied and creative activities as Benjamin's, which serves as a testing ground for life in space, and a laboratory for adventure stories.

           Christopher Tuu had a dream. He wanted to leave his village in Ghana and come to America. He wanted to study at a university and earn his master's degree in special education. Tuu then wanted to return home and teach children in his country.

           But a few years ago, Tuu's dream seemed impossible.  

           "I really want to study abroad," Tuu said. "The problem is that I do not have money."

            Studying in America was expensive for Tuu. He did not have enough money to support himself abroad. Meanwhile, Tuu could not find an opportunity. In Ghana, only a few people have the chance to study in America.

            But money was not Tuu's only complication. He is also blind.

           When he was 5 years old, Tuu contradicted the measles. Measles did not rob him of his life, but it did take his sight, and he has been blind ever since. But he was not disappointed.

            "Many people died because of measles disease," Tuu said. "But I am still alive."

             Tuu has two sisters and one younger brother.

             When Tuu was young, he often heard people around him talking about America.        Yet he did not believe in the existence of America. For him, America was a Utopia. And this country was not anywhere on earth.

               "People said American was beautiful," Tuu said. "And everywhere was amazing."

               Tuu learned more about America after he entered school. He was taught that people in America were honest, and they enjoyed equal rights. He came to realize that such a country really did exist in the real world.

               "I started to think America was good," Tuu said.

                After he finished his bachelor's degree in social studies at a university in Ghana, Tuu developed a passion for teaching, and he wanted to help people, especially help those children who were like him. He taught social studies in a school for the blind for almost 10 years, but during this time, he never gave up his dream of coming to America.

                Though Thu's dream of coming to America for further study had many difficulties, he never gave up.

                In 2007, Tuu applied for a Ford scholarship. After waiting nearly a year, he finally received word that he had been chosen as one of the Ford Foundation Fellows. Tuu would be going to KU.

                His advisor, Mary Morningstar, a special education professor, remembers Tuu's early application letters.

                "His application letter was really impressive," Morningstar said. "Tuu said he wanted to help more people in his home country after he graduated."

                But coming to the U.S was not as easy as Tuu thought, not only because Ghana has a different culture than America, but also he needed training to live in a foreign country.

               After Tuu received his admission letters in 2008, he spent another year in Ghana preparing for his trip to America. Tuu need to learn American cultures and customs, and most important, he needed to learn how to use a computer.

               People in Ghana were not familiar with using computers and the Internet. Tuu started by learning how to type.

               After arriving at the University, the first thing he needed was mobility training.

              Mark Craig, a special education teacher, trained him for about 30 hours. Their focus was on using the KU on Wheel transit system to set around the campus.

Because Tuu lived in Stauffer Place apartments on campus, the nearest bus stop for him to come to campus was in front of McCollum Residence Hall. From there, he took the Campus Express to school.

Craig trained Tuu how to use a white cane to walk from his apartment to the bus stop. Craig said the training was really challenging, but Tuu mastered it. Craig has trained hundreds of blind people, and he said Tuu was one of the most successful students.

              "Christopher was really a quick learner by far," Craig said.

              Craig can still remember the first time he met Tuu. Tuu had just gotten off the airplane and had his bag with him. Craig said Tuu's bag smelled quite strong and he asked him what he had brought with him.

                Tuu had packed corn and soup with him for his trip. Tuu said he also tried to bring a dead chicken, but the airport workers would not let him.

                 It is true that Tuu often feel lonely. He does not have a lot of friends in this country, and he stays at home by himself most of the time.

                 Tuu's neighbor, Magayana Yusufu, a Fulbright Scholar from Cote D'ivoire, a country near Ghana, said Tuu was really independent most of the time. But Tuu does feel lonely.

"He needs somebody to be with him," Yusufu said.

After living in this country for a while, Tuu knows clearly that American is somewhere on earth. He loves people here, and everyone is friendly to him. Tuu said his professors were really nice, they did everything they could to help him success in his class.

Tuu is taking a special education course from his adviser this semester. The class, called adulthood transition, teaches people how to transition themselves from high school to their adult lives.

But Tuu did have difficulties on his studies. Because he could not read, he relies on the computer software, Gows, which reads the text for him, heavily. Because Tuu could not find a person to help him enter all course documents to his computer software most of the times, he had problems on finishing his reading assignments on time.

Tuu is 44 years old this year, and he remains single. He loves studying and always wants to study more. Tuu is considered as a role model in his country. People in Ghana were encouraged after hearing his story. He said if a blind person could go to university in America, nobody had the excuse to fail in school.

Morningstar said she had learned a lot about services for people with disabilities in Ghana from Tuu.

"People who have disabilities in Ghana could not get the same service as in America," Morningstar said.

Because of this, Tuu wants to return to his home country and make a difference for people there with disabilities.

"I want to go back home and help more people in Ghana," he said.

           Anthony Schwager stands by his small display at the Downtown Lawrence Farmer's Market early on Saturday mornings with a vigilant eye gazing through his glasses. It's too early in the season to bring out the big tent, so the table before him holds a small assortment of honey products with brightly colored labels bearing the name "Anthony's Beehive." He smiles timidly through his braces at passing shoppers and is keen to aid them with their purchases when they stop at his stand.

            Later this week, Anthony will take that same smile to his second job in the office at Trinity In-Home Care. He will also volunteer at Community Living Opportunities and Lawrence Memorial Hospital. And in the midst of all that, he will probably find time to visit a high school and speak about Anthony's Beehive or attend other events that cater to people who suffer from developmental disabilities. If he isn't sidetracked by hospital visits, that is.

            Twenty-two-year-old Anthony suffers from epilepsy and developmental disabilities. Anthony's mother, Terri Schwager, said this is because of low oxygen at birth, and that he has always required a little extra attention because of his disabilities.

            One thing Anthony's family is sure to watch out for is injury. Anthony's brother Brandon Schwager  said Anthony doesn't feel pain like other people, so he doesn't tell them when he is hurt. This has resulted in multiple trips to the hospital, a few of which sent Anthony home with stitches. Brandon said they have to be watchful "if he's ever doing anything with scissors or knives or the stove." Terri said she used to find bloody socks in Anthony's room that he had used to bandage his wounds.

            "He has no self-preservation skills," she said.

            One particular hospital visit confirmed that Anthony had permanently lost sight in his left eye.

            Terri said the blindness was likely because of an epileptic seizure. Once she noticed him bumping into things, it was too late to save his vision. Anthony now wears protective, shatterproof glasses to help preserve his right eye.

            Now if Anthony is hurt, he must tell another adult who decides whether the injury is serious.

            In addition to maintaining his physical well-being, Anthony's family pitches in to drive him places, help him manage Anthony's Beehive and make sure all his needs are met.

            "We try to make sure Anthony is living the life that he wants to live...That's always been our goal," Terri said.

            Anthony also has a caretaker, Beth, who helps out a few days a week to make sure Anthony's family has time to get other things done. But Anthony helps others as much as they help him.

            Anthony began working at Trinity In-Home Care in January 2009, where he has been a client for many years. Executive Director Kelly Evans said Trinity is a local division of United Way that helps the elderly and people with disabilities be independent.           

            "He showed initiative by applying for a job we had available, and we knew he would be a great employee," Evans said.

            Anthony works at Trinity two days a week helping with the mail, filing, cleaning and doing other tasks around the office.

            "Anthony is helpful, reliable and very professional," Evans said. "He even helped push my kids on the swing outside when they were at work with me a few weeks ago."

            Anthony also volunteers at Community Living Opportunities and Lawrence Memorial Hospital. CLO's Web site said it serves the developmentally disabled of Douglas County, and Anthony helps out there by doing office work. He said his caretaker, Beth, helps him deliver mail to the different departments at Lawrence Memorial every Wednesday.

            "Reading the job description, I just knew in my heart that it would be a good fit for him," Terri, also a nurse at Lawrence Memorial, said.            

            In addition to Anthony's second job and volunteer positions, schools and organizations often ask him to speak at events for the people who suffer from developmental disabilities. His mother, Terri, made a half-serious joke about finding a manager for Anthony.  

            "To be honest, I have considered hiring someone to work with Anthony because we're getting really overwhelmed," Terri said.

            Terri said the Kansas Council on Developmental Disabilities contacted Anthony about attending an event for the developmentally disabled in Topeka. KCDD asked him to be on a panel and speak to people with disabilities about employment.

            Nancy Plunkett, a special education teacher at Broadmoor Technical Center in Shawnee, Kan., asked Anthony to speak to her students about Anthony's Beehive.

            "Anthony is a wonderful role model for students with cognitive disabilities, not just physical," Plunkett said. "He is in much more control of his life because of his small business."             

If there's one thing 58-year-old poet Gary Lechliter knows how to write about, it's his native state.

In a poem titled "Practically Nothing" from his 2001 book, Under the Fool Moon, Lechliter writes, "Remains of the Kansas prairie. Wolves, bears, cougar and bison are gone. And west of Lawrence, on Highway 40, plywood duplexes impinge on wheat fields and locust groves where cattle graze by real estate developers' signs."

Lechliter grew up in the small town of Arkansas City, in the middle of a prairie scene similar to the one described in "Practically Nothing."  During his youth, he was the student who was always a little different from his classmates. He was the friend who accepted everyone, no matter his or her race or sexual orientation. And he was the daydreamer who gazed out the classroom windows at the Kansas landscape, wondering what lay beyond the flat southeastern countryside of the state he now writes about with such familiarity.

A child of the '60s, Lechliter used those daydreams to pull himself through tumultuous times.

"I went through that very turbulent, frightening decade; three major political assassinations, the threat of nuclear war, Vietnam, and living in a very stilted, conservative town," Lechliter said. "The things we did as kids and as teenagers to kind of overcome that fear of nuclear war and those things...we played. We dreamed. We wrote."

A majority of Lechliter's conservative farming community did not support his liberal views of life, but he connected with other dreamers who understood what it felt like to be out of the ordinary. Lechliter valued the friendships of many different people; he appreciated their camaraderie rather than focusing on their lifestyle. He also began to turn away from Southern Baptist teachings and adhere to a more humanistic view of living.

"I began to be very accepting of lifestyles that people in Kansas, and the majority of the people in the country, aren't," Lechliter said, leaning back comfortably in his rocking chair and gazing across the room through round, black-rimmed glasses. "That's how I grew up, and that's how I remain today."

It wasn't until Lechliter's senior year at Pittsburg State University that poetry became a regular part of his life. Lechliter's adviser prompted him to enroll in a poetry class for an easy A, and what began as a simple suggestion turned into a starting point for what would become Lechliter's lifelong pursuit.

Poetry became Lechliter's niche, and he used his views of life as an outsider to reach others with his words. He developed a style and philosophy all his own, neglecting flowery language for a more down-to-earth style. To achieve this, Lechliter used his experiences and everyday situations as inspiration for his poems.

Relatable themes weave in and out of Lechliter's poetry. He wrote verses about dysfunctional families, the Kansas landscape, and local myths and legends. He overcame tough times through his writing, such as his turbulent relationship with his father, his divorce from his first wife and a close friend's suicide. His words were therapy, and several poems came from his tough experiences, poems that were shrouded in anger and sadness.

"The poetry he was writing when we got married, he was really angry at his ex-wife, so it was really dark. But he started writing again in [University of Kansas English Professor] Brian [Daldorph]'s class and Brian was a good influence," Lechliter's wife, Camille, said. "He's very quiet. His thoughts go on inside his head, and I think this is the way that his insides can come out, his thoughts can come out. I'm glad he's got that."

Lechliter wrote through the good times and the bad. But in 1999, Lechliter's ability to write at all nearly came to a screeching halt when he fell from a ladder and barely survived. Stuck in the hospital with a hematoma in the right side of his head, broken ribs, a punctured lung and a separated shoulder, he could have given up on his writing and his life. Instead, he let the experience open up a part of his mind he had never let out before. He started to come to terms with who he was as a writer and as a person.

"You live and die as the person you finally become--I began to write from that aspect," Lechliter said. "With me, it took until I was 30 to finally settle down and say, 'this is who I am.' I'm not going to play games. I'm not going to pretend to be somebody I'm not."

Armed with a new outlook on life, Lechliter persevered through the pain. His persistence won him two awards the same year as his near-death experience: the Langston Hughes award and the David Ray award. These awards joined several others on Lechliter's list of accomplishments--he was published in journals across the country, including UMKC publication "New Letters," and Lawrence's own "Coal City Review."

Other poets also took notice of Lechliter's unconventional attitude towards life and the emotional truth in his writing.

"I'm really struck by the soulfulness that is natural to Gary, and by that I mean he's not afraid of dark ideas," Mary Wharff, a former co-editor of I-70, said. "He's not afraid of writing about them or considering them, and yet his poetry isn't stuck in darkness. It moves in and out of tough things."

Lechliter went beyond writing in 2002 when he founded I-70 Review, a literary magazine based in Lawrence that featured poets who lived along its namesake, Interstate 70. Four issues were released before Lechliter had to call it quits because of a lack of funds, time and available co-editors. But I-70's influence is still felt in Lawrence's literary community. Lechliter's editor, Brian Daldorph, hopes it will return.

"I-70 will be sorely missed. Gary had worked hard to establish it as a quality independent literary journal," Daldorph said. "We're all grateful to Gary for what he was able to do with it. We're hoping for a comeback."

Even though I-70 came to a halt, Lechliter continues to write and remain true to himself and his differences, regardless of what happens.

"There was one time when I tried to kind of join the crowd, tried to fit in, pretend to be somebody I was not," Lechliter said. "Finally I said, 'I can't do this. I can't die a phony. I can't die somebody that I'm not. This is what I believe, this is what I don't believe. This is who I am.'"

 

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CONTACTS

Gary Lechliter:         (785) 832-8942

Camille Lechliter:    (785) 832-8942

Mary Wharff:            (785) 838-464

                                mgwharff@sunflower.com

Brian Daldorph:        briandal@ku.edu

"I have to keep authoritative around them," Joe Warren said.  "If they start to mess around, it's because I've relaxed around them.  They take a lot of discipline."

Warren is a platoon leader in the National Guard, but he's not talking about soldiers.  He's talking about horses.

When Warren isn't on active duty, he's a police officer in Lexington, Ky., in the mounted division.  He also trains horses to work with other officers.

"It is similar to training soldiers," he said.  "Some react positively to discipline, some don't.  You have to figure out what makes a soldier tick."

Just like his horses.

"Some horses are real sensitive," he said.  "The horse that I'm training right now, Rookie, is like that."

When Warren described working with his horses, it sounded like working with a stubborn child.

"It's not something you're going to do and see results overnight," he said.  "You start back from the basics and you go 1-2-3."

It didn't surprise Warren's mother that her son ended up working with horses or people.   Karen Houchens has seen her son's magnetism.

One Christmas when Warren's niece was only three or four months old, no one could get her to stop crying.  Houchens' Yorkie, in turn, "had to match that baby" and wouldn't stop crying either.

"Joe laid down on the couch with the baby stretched out on his chest," Houchens said. "He pulled the dog up there and had them both asleep soon."

Warren's coworkers also recognize his talent and his tolerance with the animals.

Dan Edge has worked with Warren for four of the 23 years he's been with the Lexington Police Department.

"He's good with the horses," Edge said. "If you're not patient with it, you end up with some problems down the road with an animal."

Warren's ease with soldiers and horses both have family ties.

He grew up on his grandparents' farm, surrounded by cattle, hogs and horses, and he came from three generations of military men in his family.

"My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my dad had made a career out of it," Warren said.  "So it wasn't really that big of a stretch for me."

Warren went to Iraq for Desert Storm and went back for 12 months starting in January 2005.

He oversaw daily operations and went out on patrol two to three times a week.

"I was out there in the middle of it with everybody else," Warren said.

Houchens has seen his natural leadership since he was young and his two younger brothers followed him everywhere.

"Joey is a risk taker," Houchens said.  "I see that now in especially the police work."

His comradery with animals is something else Houchens has seen in Warren since an early age.

"I think his personality in general just makes animals draw toward him."

Warren is just personable and outgoing, she said, and gets along with people and animals.

            "They don't fear him," she said.  "He just has a calming effect."

Warren appears to approach his military duties in the same way.  Patrolling the streets of Baghdad, flying helicopters, going through basic training: he mentions all this casually.  He enjoys the excitement.

Warren's police coworker, Heather Catt, said that he's the same way around the horses.

"When a horse is misbehaving, Joe doesn't lose his cool," Catt said.  "He works well under pressure."

Going through training can be exhausting and Warren isn't all work and no play.  He understands reprieves are needed in the training process.

"They'd rather sit and eat grass all day."

He's talking about the horses, not the soldiers.

            The bell rings as 330 students flock into the hallways to escape the dungeon they call high school. At the end of the hallway, a room sits filled with posters of former students. Each poster has several pictures of students and their signatures ranging back to 1986. Two students sit in the classroom long after the bell has rung and hope to get straight answers from teacher Rod Smith.

            "When I plug this equation into the calculator, I get a different answer than I do when I do it by hand," one of the students said.

            "Well here is your problem," Smith replies. "This calculator was made in China."

            Rod Smith currently teaches high school chemistry, physics, and first year Spanish classes at Jefferson West High School in Meriden Kansas. He has taught at Jefferson West for 23 years and offers something most teachers do not, a money back guarantee. Smith personally guarantees a passing grade in college physics or he will personally pay $100 back to the student. Since 1986, none of his students has ever failed college physics.

            "There was one student who earned a "D" at Valapariso several years ago." Smith said. "At that time, I did not stipulate that students had to attend class in college to get my guarantee. He stopped going to class and realized 2/3 of the way through that he didn't want to be the first to fail."

            Smith also hands out money to students who correct him when he makes errors in class. He often hands out quarters for helping clean up after messy chemistry labs and for particularly tough problems. Smith said that by the time students reach high school money is a motivation.

            "When students win one of the many different contests, I give them a choice between immediate candy or delayed gratification by putting their name in a can to draw for $5 at the end of the month," Smith said. "I wish I could give more because education is money in the bank, waiting to be tapped later."

            Former physics student Tanner Hunt remembers the classes being hard but well worth it. Hunt said Smith was one of his favorite teachers from high school. He also remembers several pieces of advice from the classroom that he has thought about while at Kansas State University.

            "I remember he used to tell us to walk at a 'college pace' down the hallways for next year," Hunt said. "I think about his classes all the time. You don't realize it when you first get to college, but eventually you'll realize just how much you learned in high school compared to everyone else in your classes."

            Secretary Melanie Bostwick at Jefferson West High school said her daughters were both prepared for their college experiences.

            "Smith teaches the kids a lot of knowledge that you know they will use for the rest of their lives," Bostwick said.

            Other students remember Smith's appearance on certain days rather than what he taught. Rod Smith wears a bow tie to every home basketball game where he keeps score for the varsity teams. He says he has approximately 20 bow ties for various occasions. During cross-country season he works as an assistant coach. Students can hear the cowbell he wears to help inspire his runners all over school.

            "When you hear the bell, you knew when he was coming down the hallways," former student Brad McNary said.

            In 2002, Smith began taking a yearly trip with his physics students to Fermi National Accelerator Lab, Fermi Lab, in Illinois. Since the initial trip, the students and parents have raised money through fundraisers and concessions at the high school to pay for the trip at little to no cost from the school district.

            "My husband went on the trip and absolutely loved it. He talked about it for days after they got back. I think it was a learning experience for him as much as it was for the kids," Bostwick said.

            Smith said one of the big highlights during the year is the trip for many of the students. With the opening of the laboratory by the European Council of Nuclear Research, or CERN, next years physics trip is in limbo.

            "On our latest trip to Fermi Lab, they said CERN would be operational in 2010 and they would probably shut down the particle accelerator in Illinois. Until then, we will have to wait and see what happens," Smith said.

            Rod Smith is a great teacher now, but he did not always plan to become a teacher. Smith went to college at Wichita State University where he planned on becoming a journalist. He was a sports writer for the Wichita Eagle covering many local and statewide events. During summer break in 1974, he and a friend decided to bicycle their way from Wichita Kansas to Peru. When they reached the Mexico border, they hitched a ride with a bus full of students from Central Michigan State University. On the way into Mexico, he sat next to a girl named Karen Heady, reading the novel Christy. Little did he know, he was sitting next to his future wife.

            "We were on our way to Mexico for a Spanish culture class. It was to help us learn to speak Spanish and to see the Spanish way of life," Karen said.

            After departing from the group in Mexico City, Smith became seriously ill while staying at a KOA campground. Smith was rushed to a local hospital where he slipped into a coma for over two days.

            "I woke up, and found myself in the ER of the hospital. It was just cots side by side with about 15 or 20 patients in the room. I remember bits and parts while I was there of waking up to people shouting and getting carried in while I was in my coma," Smith said.

Upon waking, he discovered he was diabetic and was required to monitor his blood sugar level for the rest of his life. He lost over 35 pounds while staying at the hospital.

"They had a document and said this is what I had and it was all in Spanish. At the time, I didn't know what it said and just signed the release papers to go back home," Smith said.

After returning to Kansas, Smith had the document translated and found out he was diabetic. He learned what he needed to do monitor his blood sugar level and wrote about his experience for the paper.

"After I wrote my article, I didn't feel well and noticed some things. Since I was still new to the diabetic thing, I went back to the doctors. They came in asked some questions about what was wrong and left. A little while later, a nurse comes in and has a mask on," Smith said. "It turns out I had hepatitis from the hospital in Mexico."

After his trip in Mexico, he received a letter from the girl on the bus telling him how her novel ended. He found out she was graduating from CMSU but could not find a teaching job in Michigan.

"I had applied to what seems like all over the country," Karen said. "He told me that some teaching jobs were open in Kansas and that is where I really got to know him."

Karen started teaching elementary school during the day while Smith wrote sports articles at night. Rod and Karen decided their current relationship would not work given their working hours. After discussing options, Smith decided to switch majors to teaching as well.

"I had taken a wide variety of classes, and the advisors asked me if I had ever thought of teaching for a living," Smith said.

Smith received his Bachelor of Arts from Wichita State University, and later a Masters Degree from the University of Kansas. He continues his education by taking college classes during the summer with his wife Karen Heady-Smith. Smith has taken classes from 14 different colleges and universities around the country. In 32 years, he has only failed to take a summer class once. When he is not in summer classes, he spends them traveling the world with his wife.

"My favorite place we've been to is Auckland New Zealand. I absolutely love traveling all over the world during the summer," Karen said. 

This summer, Rod Smith plans to take an economics class through Emporia State University. He also plans to travel to Africa and bungee jump off a bridge near Victoria Falls.

"I love to bungee jump. Every year I show my physics class the video of my first jump and then we discuss the physics of the jump. If the physics makes sense, then there's no reason to worry," Smith said.

Smith and his wife currently teach at Jefferson West and have over 40 years of teaching experience between them. He is currently certified to teach Spanish, chemistry, physics, general science, computer science, social studies, and general math.

"I love to learn new things. What better place to learn than through teaching at school," Smith said.

April 27 (LAWRENCE, Kan.) - Eight-year-old Andrew Stanley was tired of tripping over his toys when he got out of bed at night. So one night while he lay in bed, he thought of a plan.

He would build a contraption that would turn on his bedroom light from bed. Stanley wanted to make a machine that would use a marble to roll, push, pull and swing its way across the room to the light switch.

So he did.

"I wanted a purpose while I was playing," Stanley said. "I had my problem and I came up with my solution."

Stanley, Overland Park senior, has not stopped solving problems since, and has increased his involvement in his final semester, thanks to a light class schedule. He recently worked with the Student Recreation Fitness Center and Student Senate to pass funding that would enable treadmills to convert human motion into renewable electricity. He helped start the Students for Bar Recycling group and is finishing up his Latin American Studies degree. Stanley also divides his time among Spanish Club, the Global Awareness Program, Students Tutoring for Literacy and others.

"I really enjoy diversity," Stanley said. "I never want to be just sitting in an office behind a computer. It's this whole adventure that I'm after. I feel like if I limit myself, I miss out on a bunch of things."

Stanley's adventure took on a new level of intensity this year, but the journey is years in the making. 

Stanley grew up as the youngest of four siblings, including one brother and two sisters. His oldest sister, Sarah, said that Andrew has always been enthusiastic about his interests and she thought that birth order influenced Andrew's drive for diversity.

"He watched us do things that he stubbornly decided he wasn't going to do," Sarah said. "I remember my mom said that he told her that we played every sport imaginable except football, so he was going to be a good football player."

Football ended up taking a back seat to more creative interests like web design, but Andrew never stopped looking to his family for inspiration.

Stanley's mother, Connie, worked as a pastry chef at Café Nordstrom in Overland Park, while his father, John, was a workers compensation lawyer. Andrew washed dishes at his mother's work for a short time and said he noticed how she and his father interacted with their co-workers and clients, who were often disadvantaged or had immigrated from Mexico.

"It touched me to see how much they appreciated people treating them as a person," Stanley said. "I was never raised to think of people as statistics."

Those observations and the time he spent studying abroad in Mexico during his sophomore year of college convinced Stanley to put his natural leadership skills and creativity toward beneficial causes and not just the disc-jockeying business and the basketball camping group he had already created. Stanley began working at the Office of Study Abroad, where former Outreach Coordinator Natalie Parker noticed Stanley's initiative.

"You usually meet people who say they want to change the world," Parker said. "Andrew is one of those people that I think would come up with an idea and would actually do it."

Stanley had planned to graduate early and had quit his job at Study Abroad last year in preparation for what he hoped would be his final semester. Instead, he found that he was six credit hours short and decided to use that extra time to expand his involvements.

Stanley founded Students for Bar Recycling in the last months of 2008 as a way to reduce the waste thrown away by local bars.  At first, Stanley went by himself to pick up the glass from bars like the Replay Lounge and Jackpot, but his enthusiasm soon attracted more members and the group is beginning to make its impact on and off of campus.

 Parker said that some University professors have taken notice too.

"His name comes up frequently among climate change faculty members as one of the people who is innovative and working within the student body to make change," Parker said.

Cyrus Beedles, Lawrence senior, has been good friends with Stanley since they met in Oliver Hall during their freshman year. Beedles said Stanley told him that he was disappointed he did not find out how many possibilities there were at the University until his senior year.

"I can't even imagine what he could have done if he had started doing these things and had this initiative since his freshman year," Beedles said.

Stanley said he hopes to continue his work after he graduates from the University in May. He said he wants to create a non-profit organization that breaks the cycle of poverty through a self-sufficient means like employing the poor to feed the poor. But he said that regardless of what he does, he wants to see his positive impact on other people.

"All of the things I've done have just taught me that there are good ideas out there," Stanley said. "I just have to pick one and do the best I can and hopefully I'll be successful."

 

          Dave Clark walked into a brightly lit, off-white colored room. He was happy to escape the Houston heat outside, but inside felt uncomfortably warm. So this is it, he thought. It was his first day on the job at Johnson Space Center, home to NASA.

            "They sat me down in my own cubicle to take a background test," said Clark, a 2008 University of Kansas graduate. "There was a guy walking around the room looking over people's shoulders. I guess he was making sure we don't cheat on our own background. I was worried that they knew more about my life than I did."

            If that weren't stressful enough, Clark found out the man who hired him had been replaced and the only other KU student offered a job with NASA was fired before she even began. In Clark's own words: "it was a strange day."

            Clark, a graduate from the school of engineering, said he was looking for a job back in his home state of Texas. He attended an engineering job fair where he met a representative from NASA. The representative expressed an interest in Clark after talking with him for a half an hour.

            "He wasn't sure if he could get the job but we encouraged him to apply anyway," said his mother, Sharon Clark. "We told him it couldn't hurt. The worst thing they could do was say no. After that, everything just fell into place."

         Clark, taking his family's advice, applied for an engineering position and flew down to Houston for an interview. The first interview turned into a second, and the second interview turned into a third.

            "When he told me about NASA, I thought, 'Sure, big deal, you're totally not going to get it,'" said his sister, Kathryn Clark, Southlake, Tex., junior. "I was supportive enough to say, 'Okay, go for it.' My initial reaction changed after he had three interviews. Each time he got a step closer. They kept flying him down to Houston and I thought, 'Oh man, this is kind of serious.'"

            All of the interviews paid off. Clark graduated in May 2008 with a job offer at NASA. His family was shocked. It wasn't that they thought he couldn't do it; job prospects seemed unlikely for graduates because of the economic downturn. He moved to Houston and started work July 11, nearly a month after graduation.

            "I was a little worried," said Clark. "I came from KU, where most of my friends are, to Houston, a city I have never had much experience in. I wondered if I was going to be able to make friends. Everything happened so fast. This was all new for me."

            Joining NASA seemed like a long way to come for a guy who created Pirate Tuesdays as an excuse "to dress like Pirates and drink like Pirates." Clark's friend and fellow pirate, Andy Ippel, Overland Park, Kan., senior, said he was surprised by the NASA job offer, only because he thought Clark would stay at KU for graduate school. Ippel said Clark's choice made sense.

            "I worked as a mechanic and he would join me in fixing things up," said Ippel, who's known Clark for three years. "We loved working on his scooter and I would explain things to him. He doesn't just push numbers, move a pen the right way, and talk like a robot. You need someone who has actual understanding of these things and can talk to people. That's one of Dave's skills, his ability to talk to people and work with people."

            The abilities that Ippel described helped Clark save NASA $45,000 in repairs and earned him a raise in his first year on the job. "I think they've realized he's an important asset to the program," said Mrs. Clark, gushing with pride.

Eileen Hawley, former director of external relations at NASA, who works for KU now, said that adjusting to life at NASA wouldn't be too hard for incoming college graduates.

"Despite the long hours, Johnson Space Center is like a giant college campus," said Hawley. "There is a rumor that the government bought the land from Rice University in 1963 and set it up like a college campus in case the space program fell through."

            Hawley said Clark's job is important. Clark, an operations and maintenance engineer, has to keep every piece of equipment up and running or else it could be detrimental to the entire program.

            In Clark's short time at NASA, he has already witnessed a space shuttle flight and a hurricane. Last September, fear of Hurricane Ike forced Houston to evacuate. Clark drove home to Dallas where he traded in his camaro for a truck. He disguised himself as part of a work convoy led by police into Houston to clean up after the hurricane. He earned the Hurricane Ike Clean-up Award from NASA, thanking him for his help. There was significant water damage to machinery. Clark's team worked day and night to have everything up and running by the next week. Clark says it was quite an accomplishment. He still can't believe they were able to pull it off in that short amount of time.

            Clark, who has settled into Houston life, said it is starting to feel like home. He made friends in his apartment complex by sitting out by the pool with a cooler full of beer. He still drinks with the same people he met on his second day in Houston. He said he couldn't go too crazy because he is on-call 24-hours-a-day, seven days a week. When asked if that meant no more pirate Tuesdays, he laughed.

            "I definitely have responsibilities now that I would never have dreamed of in school," said Clark, on a telephone call from Houston. "I love this job. I don't mind the hours. It feels like I am stepping into history. It's satisfying in ways I never imagined."

 In the summer of 1970 Suzi Blackman's worst nightmare came true. She was 13 years old at summer camp when she found out that her mother had passed away from breast cancer. At 51, her nightmare revisited her. Suzi's daughter Leslie had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer.

 

"Everyone always said to me that cancer skips a generation," Blackman said. "I've always told my kids to be aware and always have regular check-ups."

 

Her mother's death has played a role in the way she raised her two children, Leslie and Greg. She has seen her children grow up. She has been there for all the events they have had in their lives as well as their milestones. Something her mother didn't have the opportunity to do.

 

"As an adult I can look back and say I didn't understand my mother's death. I understood death and that I had lost my mother," Blackman said. "But it didn't impact me as much as it has as an adult. It affects me to this day."

                       

Blackman's mother's death of breast cancer has always made her fearful of the disease, especially with her children. When the news came that there was a lump on her daughter's neck that was possibly cancerous Blackman was terrified.

 

"I was scared to death. I was mortified," Blackman said.

 

One of Blackman's good friends, Susie Miller, remembers hearing about the news from her. Miller said that Blackman told her there was concern with Leslie and they were going to the doctor to see what it was.

 

"She said there was a growth on Leslie's neck and they didn't know what it was," Miller said. "Suzi was optimistic that it would not be cancer, but the doctor told her there was a chance."

 

In the summer of 2008, Leslie and her family found out that the growth on her neck was indeed cancerous.

 

Leslie couldn't believe the news when she first heard it.

 

"I think the first minute or so was shock," Leslie said.

 

Even with the bad news that she had just been diagnosed with thyroid cancer, Leslie said she was relieved that it wasn't lymphoma.

 

"When I called my parents I was almost delivering good news" Leslie said. "Odd, right?"

 

When Blackman and her husband Bruce learned of the diagnosis they knew that they had to keep a positive attitude and be there for their daughter.

 

"You have to be strong for her, my husband Bruce was good at that," Blackman said. "It was only in her thyroid so I was thankful that it wasn't breast, but it's still the word cancer."

 

While Suzi and Bruce as well as family and friends were there for immediate support and assurance for Leslie, Leslie was a little concerned on how her mother was actually handling the news.

 

"After it all sunk in I did begin to realize how difficult this may be for her for multiple reasons," Leslie said." I know this process has been difficult for her but when I need her most, she is there promising me all will be okay"

 

With a positive diagnosis of cancer, Blackman has become scared for her daughter and has questioned the relationship between her family history and Leslie's cancer.

 

"She doesn't need to worry, everything will be okay. She doesn't always need to think the worst," Bruce said.

 

Part of the constant fear comes from the fact that since Leslie has been diagnosed with cancer she has had four surgeries to remove all of the cancerous tissue. The most recent surgery was on March 20^th of 2009.

 

Part of what has helped Blackman cope with this situation has been the emotional help from her sisters as well as her friends.

 

"I know she leaned a lot on my aunts for support and I think having that connection of going through what they did with their mom had a lot to do with it," Leslie said. "It is hard to understand a situation like that and the emotions that come along with it unless you have been through it before so I'm glad she had them to reach out to."

 

Blackman and her family and friends are hopeful that Leslie has gone through the last surgery and that all of the cancer is gone, but Blackman said she will always have uncertainty.

 

"My fear is that there is something else," Blackman said. "I want to get rid of that fear, but because of my mom the fear will always be in my mind."

 

 

           Lora Wiley's past is never too far behind. It's a constant reminder of how far she's come from the hopeless days of working at a job she hated.  

            The 36-year-old recalls the regretful past decisions she made as a college graduate in her early twenties.

            "I remember specifically walking down Jayhawk Boulevard, my senior year at KU, not knowing for sure what I wanted to do professionally," Wiley said. "Well, I had a series of jobs that I hated. I realized that I was very naïve when I thought that thought - that 40 hours a week is 40 hours a week."

            She used to take customer complaints for a phone company. Customers were boiling with anger about their bills. They were always ready to explode with harsh words to anybody that would listen on the other line. Wiley was on the receiving end. For Wiley, those hurtful words made her feel miserable inside.

            "I discovered that because they couldn't see my face they felt free to say any horrible thing they wanted to and it was tough," Wiley said. "It really got under my skin."

            Those 40 hours a week turned into her dreading the high-pitched, pulsating ring of the alarm clock every the morning. Those 40 hours a week turned into her Sunday afternoons coming to a quick and painful end. Wiley was thinking only one thought - how much she was going to miss the weekend.

            But in 1998, that ordinary Sunday afternoon was going to change the course of her life. Wiley was again on the receiving end of the phone. This time that ring would be

a joyous sound.

            Sally Helm and Susie Pryor are the owners of Brits, a store that sells British goods in downtown Lawrence. They knew her in the past because Wiley had worked for Brits around 1996. Susie asked Wiley if she wanted to become business partners and open a store of her own.

            "I was just so tired of working for people that I didn't enjoy spending time with," Wiley said. "I thought 'I'm going to give self-employment a try because it certainly can't be any worse.' So, that's what I've been doing."

            Wiley is owner of Au Marché, a European food and bath-and-beauty store, located in downtown Lawrence. The Topeka native is celebrating being in business for almost 11 years now.

            But, before this Wiley had held onto a dream that was about four years old.

            In 1993, Wiley was then a 21-year-old KU student ready to immerse herself in a culture made famous for its old-world appeal. Being an art history and French major, she studied abroad in Besançon, France for one year. 

            Eventually, Lora grew homesick. The fruitful aroma of Green Apple Snapple was calling her name. The rich sound of crispy Ritz crackers savored in her mouth and in her thoughts. She craved the flavor of something familiar in her taste buds.

            Seven weeks toward the end for her stay in Europe, Lora stumbled upon a tiny store in Aix-en-Provence, France. It sold American foods. Oddly enough, she doesn't remember much of anything about the store. Except she recalls how eager the old lady at the front register wanted to talk to her.

            "To see things like that, you know, silly things like Dr. Pepper it was really comforting," Wiley said. "I thought to myself 'I want to do the opposite' - bring French products and other European products to America."

            She immediately filled her shopping bag with foods like Oreos and Dr. Pepper.

            "It's just one of those blips in time and it was just really pivotal," Wiley said. "It was a really really important five or ten minutes of my life."

            Sally Helm remembered that novel idea and kept Wiley's dream in mind. Wiley had done her research and had taken business classes to prepare for self-employment. She just didn't know where to start. Thankfully, that Sunday afternoon phone call helped set the wheels in motion.

            "We knew that she had the drive and the knowledge of products and European things to take it and run with it," Helm said.

            In 1998 they both took a small loan, which helped jumpstart Wiley's business. The timing was perfect. Her car was paid off. She hated her current job. She was 25 years old. It was just her and a little house on Ninth and Connecticut where she only paid $300 a month in rent. All Lora was worried about was feeding herself and making next month's rent.

            "I think Lora was at a time in her life where it was just right," Helm said. "She wasn't married, she didn't have a family, she didn't have to think of other people so much and how her actions would affect them."

            Since then, Helm and Wiley have been friends and business partners for about 13 years.

"I always think she's a better manager than I am. She's not afraid to step up and make policies or make sure certain things are done," Helm said.

They instantly shared a connection through their love of Europe and specialty foods. Brits and Au Marché are located right next to each other. In the early mornings, Helm loves those rare moments when her and Wiley get to see each other, run over to grab coffee at Milton's and rush back to open their stores.

            "She had those basic qualities that I look for in a person as a friend," Helm said. "I don't care if they do something that annoys me as long as they have those basics - honesty, good character - it's those kinds of things that I really admire in a person."

Staci Garman was also drawn to Wiley's approachable personality. Garman has been friends with Helm for 22 years. Garman met Wiley through her business relationship with Helm in 1998.

            "She did a lot of research talking to Sally, who was already in business," Garman said. "She got some real world advice."

            Garman has seen her business grow leaps and bounds.  Wiley started her small business by living frugally. The store started off  in a room that was about the size of an average office. Now, Au Marché has expanded into a thriving website business, advertises frequently and has expanded into a larger store. Garman can understand why she has such a loyal customer base.

            "I think the reason that I like her is probably the same reason that her customers like her," Garman said. "That honest kind of smile and that friendliness is good."

            The 44-year-old has remained good friends with Wiley since the start of Au Marché. Garman even helps around the store every once in awhile.          

            Helm said Wiley has a strong work ethic and rarely complains at work. In fact, Helm said work and pleasure for them are one and the same. The closest complaint Helm has heard from Wiley is how much she wants to spend more time with her two-year-old son, Asa. 

            One could argue that without the store, her son wouldn't have been born. After looking at an advertisement display for Au Marché at Milton's David Wiley's curiosity grew. David had become a drifting customer of Au Marché.

                The 40-year-old had done his share of traveling abroad to Sweden and throughout Europe. He went in there looking for a Swedish food item. Lora said she'd look into it for him. About three months passed by and David returned with the same curiosity.

            "She has an incredible memory," David said. "Before I got into the door she knew who I was and what product I had come looking for."

            Through several other casual encounters, David and Lora's relationship grew. David is the program coordinator at the KU Office of Study Abroad. In 2000, David interviewed Lora for a newsletter based on KU alumni experiences. That interview eventually led to a date.  

            Ever since that first encounter at Au Marché, David and Lora have been married for more than five years.

            "She was doing a great job running her business before I came along," David said. "I have a hard time seeing her in a position where she's not calling the shots, not because she has to, but because she's good at it and it comes naturally to her."

            David and Lora have swapped their fair share of war stories and really bad job experiences. He can also appreciate Lora's humble beginnings.

            "I think all she has to do is just think back to when she had to be under somebody who didn't put the effort into it that she does," David said. "She'd much rather have difficulty trying to be the good boss than having to work under a bad boss."

            David sees Lora's past as a driving force for her. He's seen how far Lora's business has grown and how stressful it is to be a manager.

            "Definitely this was something that she wanted to do not because it was going to make her rich, but because she thought she would be good at it," David said. "She started very modestly and worked very hard and has expanded."

            Remembering her past job experiences is enough of a reminder for Lora to never give up her own business. Lora has come far from the days of walking down Jayhawk Boulevard fresh out of college and being fearful of the future.

            "I have learned that as we age we figure out reasons to not follow our dreams," Lora said.

            Flash forward to a sunny April morning in 2009, Lora is standing at the store counter of Au Marché. The store phone is ringing constantly. Curious customers like David are flowing in and out. With her right elbow on the counter and her right hand on her pale face, Lora reflects back on her life. From the display of finely designed Italian postcards to the delicate Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolates behind the shiny glass display, the whites of her eyes are showing as she looks around from ceiling to floor. She wonders how nice it would be to meet that eager old lady again from the store that she vaguely remembers.

     "I would be so neat to find that woman and just tell her 'I only talked to you for five minutes and look at how you changed the course of my life,'" Wiley said.

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In the small town of Gorleben, Germany, thousands of protesters gathered at a crossroad. They were there for the annual demonstration against the transport of nuclear waste. The protesters linked arms and formed lines to block a towering truck that was headed straight for them. In the distance they could see the small faces of German officers behind the wheel.

It was the late 1990s. Ben MacConnell and his soon-to-be-wife, Sarah Rooney were two of the protestors in the crowd.

Soon a voice bellowed from a speaker. In German, an officer ordered the protesters off the road. If they did not move, they would be sprayed off like ants with pressure hoses.

As the officers turned the hoses on, the crowd covered itself with a tarp a local farmer had donated. High-pressured water blasted against the hunkered crowd and a chorus rose.

"We all live in a yellow submarine..."

"It was alright for a little while," Rooney said, "until you saw the German's boots."

The officers yanked the protesters out from their shelter, line by huddled line. They looked for weak spots on the protesters' bodies to incapacitate them. An officer reached out, pulled MacConnell's hood over his head and punched him in the stomach. The protest was quickly coming to an end.

When you meet 36-year-old MacConnell, you probably don't think of a radical protester--he wouldn't mention it either. After all, in just a few years he went from high-pressure water fights and nuclear power plant invasions to 10-hour workdays in a room the size of a closet.

When he graduated from college, MacConnell volunteered with several organizations and worked on six different campaigns to protect the environment. He now works for social and economic justice through community organizing at the Direct Action and Research Training Center in Lawrence. He is the founder and recruitment coordinator of the DART Organizer's Institute. The institute introduces people to the field of community organizing with classroom and field training. After their training, the participants become full-time organizers in one of six states where the center operates.

MacConnell started the institute after his experience with a national search for his replacement at one of the center's affiliates. The criterion for his replacement included two years of community organizing experience. He said he started calling organizations for referrals and quickly found out that no one was training organizers.

"People had drive and passion, but not the experience," MacConnell said.

He underwent field organizing training with Green Corps in 1997 and looked to them for help developing his program. The institute was up and running by 2001. He ran the first 6 years of the institute in a closet-sized room inside his house. He said he worked 10 to 12 hours a day and did the recruiting, training and all the administrative work by himself.

"A lot of non-profits start like that," MacConnell said. "One person starts it up and does it everyday."

Sunil Joy, DART associate recruitment director, started in 2007 and was the second addition to the team. He said MacConnell's job took a lot of hard work, initiative and most of all passion.

MacConnell said he does his job because it's needed and because he believes in the local work the center does. He said his work also has a spiritual aspect in what God thinks is fair. People should have a say in their community and citizens should be treated with mutual respect from their public servants.

AmeriCorps VISTA Keyarash Jahanian also works at the center. He said the work that four people are now doing used to be MacConnell's job.

"He's very driven," Jahanian said. "His passion can almost be intimidating."

MacConnell said community organizing is a noble profession but he's not interested in working directly with the poor or inciting hope.

 "I want to bring about structural changes to empower people. Not just feed them," he said.

He has come a long way from his days volunteering overseas to working

8 a.m. to 6 p.m. in an office. But he still maintains values he acquired from his experiences. A large salary doesn't come with non-profit work. But even with a one-year-old son, he said he and his wife have never worried too much about the financial aspect of his work.

"She and I went into a program overseas where we had $35 a month," MacConnell said. "More is less. It was a whole culture we were going through together and we shared a lot of common interests."

Rooney shared a story that showed how both of their lives have changed since their "hippie radical days."

MacConnell and Rooney were in Czech Republic in the late 1990s with a radical anti-nuclear group. In an attempt to prove that a nuclear power plant wasn't secure, they trekked through sewer tunnels to find a way to break in.

At one point, he turned to Rooney and said, "I hope our lives can be this exciting forever."

"We don't do that anymore," Rooney said, "and it's not that exciting. But he did end up climbing over a fence and onto a tower to wave a flag."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Stacey Burton faces an obstacle, she doesn't hide and she doesn't back down.

But she does run.

Burton runs for six miles at least four times a week and plays rugby, an intense contact sport, as often as she can.

"She was a badass on the rugby field," said Rachel Gilbert, who played rugby with Burton in college. "She's actually quite petrifying."

Burton uses these activities to relieve the stress caused by her work in community health.  Burton began working in this field when she worked for the Chicago Recovery Alliance during her freshman year at DePaul University.

            The alliance helped people who practiced high-risk behaviors.  These behaviors range from sharing needles while injecting drugs to engaging in sex work--any behavior that might result in a transfer of blood and disease. The alliance set goals for its clients to help them lower their risk of getting and spreading infections.  It also ran a needle exchange program that allowed drug users to trade used needles for clean needles to prevent the spread of HIV and other diseases. 

Her first day on the job, Burton guessed she picked up 300 to 400 needles in a 3-by-3 block radius.  She also met Chrissy.

            "In the first thirty minutes, I watched a woman named Chrissy shoot up her arm, and she missed, so then she went to her leg," Burton said.  "She missed thirty times and there was blood everywhere."

            Burton's contact with Chrissy did not end there.  Through the alliance's programs, Burton and Chrissy became close. 

            "She had an abusive home life," Burton said. "She was living with her aunt and uncle, and her uncle was pimping her out to his friends. Over the course of time that was the way she learned to make money. She was a runaway and that was really great way to support herself."

            By the end of Burton's five years in Chicago, the alliance had nearly helped Chrissy become clean.  Chrissy was pregnant, and the alliance helped her get an opiate replacement called methadone and secure housing and a regular income. The methadone helped Chrissy to prevent withdrawal symptoms, which were like having the flu. But the help was not enough.

            "At the end of the night, the money just wasn't enough," Burton said. "So she went out to turn a trick and got picked up by the cops.  They took her to jail and she kept telling them, 'I need my methadone.'"

            Chrissy never got her methadone.  She had a miscarriage after not receiving her methadone that night in jail and killed herself two months later. 

            "This baby was supposed to be her way out," Burton said.

            Burton moved back to Kansas, her home state, soon after Chrissy's death, but continues to work in health education for the Douglas County AIDS Project.  She said her passion comes from working with Chrissy.

            "I have her photo framed in my room," Burton said.  "She's a huge part of my life and a huge reason I do what I do.  She was a good person. She didn't rob people or kill people.  If I had the same life she did, I'd do the things she did."

            Burton knows she matured through her time in Chicago.  She said it was difficult for her to separate the experiences she gained from college and those gained through her work.

            "I was disillusioned about college life," Burton said. "I thought it was normal to come out of college with friends who are hookers."

            Burton said she faced situations that are not in a typical college student's life. Not only did she spend time on the streets, but she also took shifts living in crack houses to do research.  Burton said these experiences had changed her drastically.

            "I'm not scared to die anymore," Burton said, "because when everyone else around you is dying or teetering on death, something in your heart just becomes ok with it."

            Brooke Eickmier, who has been friends with Burton since they were 13, said she saw Burton mature in Chicago.

            "When I saw what she was doing, I saw her really grow from it and learn about life," Eickmier said. "It wasn't the normal growing up, but seeing drugs rip apart lives and how the real world is. She became so strong emotionally. I look up to her for it."

            One thing has not changed through all of Burton's experiences: her energy and constant movement. Stacey's father, Michael Burton, said she was always busy as a child.

            "She was a handful. She was never still, that's for sure. Probably hasn't changed," Michael said. "No, definitely not."

Stacey said she enjoys rugby because it is like no other sport.  Her participation surprised her father, but he said she was always a tomboy.

"There's a lot of contact in rugby," Michael said. "She always liked the boys' stuff as much as anything. She's her own person."

            Stacey said the contact is one of the reasons she loves the sport, which she described as organized chaos.

            "It's definitely a good stress relief," Stacey said. "Nothing says 'fun' like getting the crap beat out of you for ninety minutes."

            Though Michael worries about her safety both when she is playing rugby and when she is working in dangerous parts of cities, he said he would continue to support his daughter.

            "If that's what she wants to do--you know I worry about her--but if she's happy," Michael said, "I'm happy for her."

           Freshman Julia Barnard flips through the pages of her planner, looking up what she has to do today. The pages are all filled with highlighted lines of text, written in meticulously uniform handwriting, color-coded according to subject with check boxes next to each thing. There are events, meetings, and guest speakers listed, things Barnard would have never had time for last year, back when it took her at least five hours a day to complete her homework. Back when she had to look up nearly every word of her assignments in her French dictionary. After graduating from Lawrence High School in 2007, Julia spent a year in France, studying at Le Collège Lycée International Cévenol, an international boarding school.

But don't even try to tell her how cool you think it is. She'll just slyly smile and push that one piece of hair--the one that always seems to evade her ponytail--behind her ear and say it's really not a big deal.

Julia had only one year of high school French before she went to Le Cévenol, where all of her classes were taught in French, and few of her classmates spoke English.  She studied in the literature program of the school, and had all of her classes with the nine other students in the program.

"I hated it there at first, I couldn't interact with anyone because of the language barrier," Julia said.

Being thousands of miles away from her parents didn't help either. As an only child, Julia is very close with her parents, and the limited contact with them was difficult. Because Le Cévenol was located in the mountains there was very limited Internet access, and only one phone for the 70 girls at the school.

Cheryl Lester, Julia's mother, said it was difficult to see her daughter struggle so much, but through their communication they were able to make it through the ups and downs and grow together.

"Going to school in France with rudimentary language skills was a courageous thing for Julia to undertake and endure," Lester said. "I admire [her] for having found the strength to endure the isolation and the many other challenges of life at Le Cévenol."

Julia went to the school for ideological reasons. Two Protestant Pacifists founded the school in 1938, and during World War II the school was a hiding place for thousands of Jewish refugees pretending to be Protestant students. Julia's parents are Pacifists, and she is also Jewish.

Le Cévenol was founded on Pacifist ideas, but while it wasn't taught in her classes, Julia felt she soaked it in while there. The school environment really helped her reach that conclusion. She explained that raising the tuition at Le Cévenol in the 1990s attracted wealthier students who weren't focused on their studies, and led to problems with violence, drugs, and theft.

"That was really alienating for me, coming from Lawrence I'd never really been around a lot of that," Julia said. "I feel more connected with it now, I would definitely consider myself a Pacifist."

But her parents didn't want her to go to the school only for those reasons. When he was a boy Julia's father, Philip Barnard, went and studied at Le Cévenol for three years. Early in their marriage he and Cheryl Lester also lived in France, and Julia said it was important to them both that she go and study the French language.

"Our primary motivations were to give Julia a 'bridge' year to develop before beginning university work," Barnard said. "It was opportunity to develop some independence, to gain international experience, and to learn French."

Barnard said that while he was there Le Cévenol was set up differently. It was run by Pacifists and Quakers, and had a different sense of community because the faculty lived on campus. He also said there was a more intensive course of language instruction, which helped students to immerse themselves in the language and learn at a rapid pace. Because the system was gone by the time Julia went there, Barnard said it was much harder for her to learn French.

Before going to the school Julia talked a lot with her friend Libby Johnson, Lawrence sophomore, about her fears. Johnson spent a semester living in Germany during her junior year of high school, and Julia came to her to talk about her experiences there. Julia also came to her for advice on how to interact and make new friends.

"My biggest piece of advice to her was to be outgoing, don't let anything intimidate you," Johnson said. "She was very happy to hear that I had made friends in Germany, and that a social life is possible with the language barriers."

Johnson said they emailed and talked through Facebook while Julia was gone, but not on a regular basis. Johnson said their friendship picked up right where it had left off once Julia came home. She decided to start school at the University of Kansas in the fall, and once again came to Johnson to ask questions about college life, getting involved, and joining a sorority.

Julia is now involved in many things on campus, including working as community service chair in her sorority, participating in Alternative Breaks, and running for a seat on Student Senate. She said all of her activities are a stark contrast to last year, where she would spend most of her day working on homework or reading books.

But not all of her experience at Le Cévenol was difficult. Julia made three close friends while at the school. Her closest friends are her roommate, Nathy Fofana, is from Tunisia, Nicole Nuisier from Rwanda, and Claire Huntington from Barcelona. Julia said they really helped her adjust to the new culture and language. She still keeps in contact with each of them through email, Facebook, and phone calls.

All photos courtesy of Julia Barnard

Julia said the challenges definitely made her stronger than before, and both her friends and family have seen a change in her as well. Johnson said Julia matured while she was there, and made many friends who had positively influenced her. Her mother said the challenges helped her grow into an adult.

"She is more resourceful than before, and she has developed more discipline, worldly capabilities, maturity, and knowledge," Lester said.

Julia said that while her experience was a little different from her father's, she still understood why it was so important to him, as well as her mother, for her to go. Barnard said the change in times and structure of the school made Julia's time there a little different from his, but he felt she got the valuable experience he wanted her to.

"It's wonderful in retrospect, but at the time it was really hard," Julia said. "But now I definitely want my children to go there too."

Kristen Keith was just like any other 18-year-old girl.  She was a bubbly, outgoing senior in high school who couldn't wait to graduate and go to college.  Keith was a track star at her high school in Southlake, Texas, and committed to the University of Oklahoma to pursue pole vaulting.  Her life was going great - until she found out she had cancer.

Keith was diagnosed with cervical cancer in June 2006. 

"The word cancer was big and scary," she said. "I felt like I had fallen victim to something that was so stupid that could have been prevented." 

Cervical cancer is a cancer that can be caused by human papillomavirus, or HPV, a sexually transmitted disease, according to Dr. Wendy Kindrik OBGYN.  This is what caused Keith's cervical cancer. 

 "I was more embarrassed than anything," Keith said. "I didn't like the fact that I was now a statistic."

 "It is very rare that patients generate cervical cancer from HPV," Kindrik said. "There are about 130 types of HPV, and only about a dozen of them can cause cervical cancer."

Keith was one of the unlucky patients whose HPV generated cervical cancer.  The next steps she had to take were telling her parents and best friend, and going through treatment. 

"It was extremely hard to tell my parents," Keith said. "This was the most difficult part of anything I had to go through."  

Keith gave her parents the least amount of information possible to keep them from worrying about her.

 "I refrained from using the words 'cancer' and 'treatment' around them because they are such harsh words," Keith said. "I felt like I was doing the right thing by protecting them from the complete truth."

Tim Keith, Kristen's dad, did not use the word cancer once when describing his daughter's condition. 

 "As a parent, you never want your kid to go through troubles," he said. "It was difficult for me because she mostly talked to her mom since it was 'girl troubles.'"

Kristen's mom, Jenny, found it difficult to discuss her daughter's cancer.  She could not talk about it because when she did, she started to cry.

 "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell them anything," Keith said.  "I knew it would be a hard pill for them to swallow, so I didn't say much."

Keith said she mostly went through the horrors of cancer alone.  She did not tell any details to even her closest friend, Wendi Ryon. 

"In the beginning, I knew the bare minimum," Ryon said. "Kristen found it hard to even confide in me.  She did not want me to worry about her, and I understand that, but as her best friend it was hard."

Keith' doctor referred her to another doctor in Oklahoma City because she was leaving for college in a month.  She would now be going through treatment on her own.  Her parents and best friend did not know about the next steps that followed.   

Surgery was the first procedure for Keith.  It was a simple outpatient surgery and the recovery time was fast.  After a two other surgeries, Keith had to go through chemotherapy. 

"I avoided chemo for so long because the side effects have such a bad reputation," Keith said. "I waited as long as I could before I had to start chemo." 

After going through three surgeries, two sessions of radiation and a round of chemotherapy shots all on her own, Keith went into severe depression.

  "I was very alone and scared," Keith said. "I was tired and emotional.  It was like having a bad case of mono and having to take care of yourself the whole time."

Keith decided she could no longer handle cancer on her own.  She started to see a psychologist to help her with the depression, and started to talk to her best friend again.

"When Kristen called me crying in the middle of the night, I knew she had hit rock bottom," Ryon said. "We talked for a couple hours that night, and I made her promise to call me whenever she needed to talk."  

Keith said these conversations were the best treatment for her, and she continued to talk to Ryon and her psychologist almost every day for the next couple of months. 

The cancer was officially in remission in May 2007.  Keith beat the disease, and the severe depression that came with it.

"I am a much stronger person because of this," Keith said. "It was rewarding to know that if I could beat cancer, then I could do so many other things."

Keith's parents still do not know the extremity of the cancer and treatments, but Keith said it was for the best. 

"I'm glad I went through those months of hell not telling my parents anything," Keith said. "It's worth saving my parents a lifetime of anguish."

Keith now attends the University of Arkansas and continues to excel at pole vaulting. Her life, she says, has done a complete 180 from the cancer days.  And, according to Ryon, so has her spirit.

 "Kristen's bubbly personality is back," Ryon said. "If you just met her now, you would have no idea what this girl has been through."

Eighty-one-year-old Grace Oshel is spending her retirement taking care of people instead of taking vacations.

She wakes up at three every morning to care for her husband, Richard, of 61 years.  He suffered a stroke and is unable to leave his home or care for himself.  Grace helps get him up, dresses him, gives him his medicine, feeds him and moves him to his chair.  Her son, Brandon, cares for him when she's not there, but his condition is declining rapidly, she said.

All but one of her eight siblings has died.   Her remaining sister lives in Littleton, Colo., and they rarely see each other. The people Grace has met at Jubilee Café and Lawrence Interdenominational Nutrition Kitchen are her extended family.

Five years ago Grace and her husband began coming to breakfast at Jubilee Café, which provides breakfast to community members in need.  That summer, Grace and Richard started volunteering at the Café because it was short on help.  Now Grace goes alone every Tuesday and Friday.  She meets the coordinators at 5 a.m. and starts carefully setting volunteer nametags out in rows on a large front table.

"I would put 'em in alphabetical order, but I like you to play the game with me," she tells the volunteers as they look for their names.

Grace no longer wears her own nametag because it flipped up and hit her in the face once as she put it on, she said.  But she doesn't really need one. Most of the volunteers and guests know her by name.

Volunteers continue to filter in until the café opens at seven, while Grace stays busy filling containers with syrup and loading up other condiments to be moved out of storage and onto the tables.

When the guests arrive, Graces watches over the juice and milk table as student volunteers hand out beverages to the guests. 

"They only get one each until 7:30 because the latecomers don't get nothin'," she said. "I stand back there and watch.  Then I sneak around the tables and see if they have more than one."

If they do, Grace makes sure they understand they can't have any more.   Some of the guests don't like her, she said, because she won't let them have what they want.  But Grace has been serving food for years and her way goes.

When she and Richard moved to Lawrence in 1959 she started working at restaurants like Snappie's Lunch and Shortie's Café before moving to Lawrence Memorial Hospital.  She worked in the food service portion of the hospital for 16 years until she retired in 1986.

Then she spent most of her time with her five grandchildren until she joined the group of regulars at Jubilee in 2004.  Many of the volunteers will tell you that Grace has been at the Café since it's beginning in 1995. That's because she acts as if she has.

Jubilee Coordinator Jonathan Leck, Washington senior, said Grace has to be taken with a "grain of salt."  

"She'll get worked up sometimes," he said. "You have to realize she's doing it to make things efficient."

But she's also there to socialize and make friends.

"The first time I met Grace, she gave me the biggest hug I've ever had," Leo Smith, Raymore, Mo., Baker University junior, said.

Meeting new people was Grace's favorite part of working at Lawrence Memorial Hospital.  She goes back once in awhile to buy individual packets of butter for Lawrence Interdenominational Nutrition Kitchen where she works and volunteers on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday at 1 p.m.

Raleigh L. Worthington has known Grace for five years since he met her at L.I.N.K.

"She's the epitome of her name unless you act up," Worthington said.  "She becomes like your mother, grandma, and sister all combined. She chastises you and gets you back in line."

But Grace isn't always serious.  She jokes around with the guests, including Raleigh. He remembered one time Grace "crossed a line" when she was teasing him.

"She had a cup of water, she drank from the cup and went pshhhhsss...in my face," he said. 

Worthington said he paused to gain his composure and calmly told her not to put the water in her mouth next time.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't realize if I put it in my mouth I'd be spittin' on ya."

Worthington said he knew she simply didn't think her actions through, so he gave her a stern warning and told her if she ever did that again he might not be responsible for his actions.  But he also said that Jubilee and L.I.N.K. wouldn't be the same without her. 

"We tried to get her to take a day off," he said. "She won't do it. She's always here."

After the guests have gone through the line and had a chance for seconds, Grace helps herself to a plate of food. Then she gets busy cleaning up.

Jonathan asks Grace if they need anything for Friday. She tells the girls what to do to put things away.  She stacks the peanut butter and jelly bowls carefully, counting each stack.  She separates the salt and peppershakers by the style of the shakers.

Then she says goodbye, puts the nametags back in their box, and heads across the street to  L.I.N.K. 

 

When Terry Smith's daughter Erica told her the doctors at the University of Kansas Medical Center said her left arm would probably have to be amputated and she wouldn't be able to walk again, Terry responded the way her two daughters say she always does--"Maybe not."

"She was right," Erica said as she flexed her left arm.

Erica, 18, was in a car with two friends last August, driving back into Lawrence from Clinton Lake. The car in front of them suddenly braked, but the driver of Erica's car was driving too fast.  Unable to stop, he swerved off the road and hit a drainage pipe.  Erica, who said she remembers her seatbelt was stretched out and useless, was thrown from the backseat of the vehicle.  She was airlifted to the Med Center.

Terry, 48, has three children: her two daughters, Brandi, 24, and Erica, and her son Neal, 19.  Her husband, Eric, who was dying of cancer, called her at work to tell her about her daughter's accident.

"He said, 'Are you sitting down?'" Smith said.  "I thought he was going to tell me he'd wrecked our car."

Smith said when her husband told her about the wreck, she envisioned the car rolling over and over.  As she drove to the Med Center with her oldest daughter, Brandi, she pictured Erica's face bruised and torn.  She said she was relieved to find her with minimal damage to her face.           __________________________                                                                              

"If you have somebody relying on you, you always have to be there."--Terry Smith, on keeping her family together.  Smith's daughter Erica remains paralyzed after a car accident last August, and her husband, Eric, died from cancer in January.

                        ____________________________

When Erica was able to return home, Terry found herself caring for two people: her terminally ill husband and paralyzed daughter.  She said a time came when her daughter needed more care than her husband.

"It was hard for him, because Daddy couldn't be there," Smith said.

Smith said she knew it was up to her to keep her family going.  She said her parents taught her about family responsibility.

"They need me," Smith said of her children.  "If you have somebody relying on you, you always have to be there."

Smith's husband, who worked for Facilities Operations at the University of Kansas for ten years, died in January.  Erica is continuing therapy, and she is a senior at Free State High School.  Terry works two jobs, at JCPenney and Reed Medical Group, but Brandi said her mother really has 5,000 jobs.

"She does everything for everyone," Brandi said.

Is she Superwoman? Brandi said her mother's cape is upstairs.

"I try to be," Terry said.

Sue Reiske, one of Terry Smith's co-workers at Reed Medical Group, is one of the organizers of a run that will be held at 8:30 a.m. on April 26 at Free State High School to benefit Erica.  She said the idea for the run came from a doctor at the center who is a runner, a tie shared with Erica, who ran cross country and track at Free State.  Reiske said in the first weeks following Erica's accident last summer, people held several garage sales and concerts to benefit Erica.  She said she and other organizers of the run want to make sure that Erica is not forgotten.

"After the first few weeks, things like this kind of get--not forgotten--but set aside," Reiske said.  "We wanted to bring it back to the community's attention in the spring."

  

Reiske said Terry sets a good example for Erica with her optimistic attitude.

"She's always looking on the bright side, always finding a reason to be happy," Reiske said.

 

            For Lawrence resident Sarah Landry and neighbors, the injury of a teenage boy was more than enough an indication that the city's infrastructure needed to be addressed. Landry and other North Lawrence residents expressed concern before the 2006 incident involving a bump near the Massachusetts Street bridge happened, but no one did anything about it until afterwards.

            Landry is one of the nearly 29,000 Lawrence residents who supported ballot question No. 1 in the November 2008 election to increase the city's sales tax. A portion of the increased sales tax will affect the City of Lawrence and its citizens by providing the city with improved and maintained roads and infrastructure. Lawrence residents approved three sales tax increases equaling a 0.55 percent increase. Effective April 1, 2009, the sales tax in Lawrence will be 7.85 percent until it expires in 10 years.

           David Corliss, Lawrence City Manager said the increased sales tax for street maintenance is what the Lawrence residents wanted improvement on. He said in the 2007 Citizen Survey, street maintenance ranked the highest in the city service that should receive the most emphasis.

            Although the tax increase will cost more for the people of Lawrence, the impression received by visitors will improve. Landry said from her experience, the potholes give a bad impression to visitors of Lawrence. In addition, Lawrence will be a safer place to drive. Accidents like the one in Landry's neighborhood could be prevented.

            Not only will the sales tax increase affect Lawrence residents, but it will also affect those receiving the tax increase money. The city's Public Works Department will receive 30 percent of the generated revenue, and will then be able to improve the city's roads and infrastructure.

           Mark Thiel, Assistant Public Works Director in Lawrence, said the department is expecting a $300,000 profit from the increased sales tax. With the projected money in sight, the department has already planned out where the money will be going. During the remainder of the 2009 year, repairs will begin in late May or early June on 19^th Street, and repairs on Kasold Drive will begin in 2010.

            The department will also use the generated money for street maintenance, which among others includes crack sealing, micro-surfacing and gutter repairs. Thiel said $4.3 million will be allocated for that part of the budget. 

            Another way the city will be affected by the sales tax increase is by their relationship with the public. Thiel said the approved tax increase proves that there is an overall trust from the public that the city will use the money well.

            When asked about the sales tax increase, Thiel said "it means we're doing a good job and have done a good job in the past."

           Landry said the city needs to repair and maintain not only main roads, but smaller roads as well. She also said she believes the city would pay more for the street's repairs in the end, if the issue is not addressed.

           "The need [for road improvements] exceeds the burden it would place in my pocketbook," Landry said.

            Lawrence is part of a new National Heritage Area that will expand its nationwide fame beyond Jayhawk basketball.

            The name "Jayhawk" originated before the Civil War as a term used for Kansas soldiers who fought for freedom. During the struggle between anti- and pro-slavery groups in Kansas and Missouri, west of the state line was known as "Bleeding Kansas." Because of this area's role in the Civil War, Douglas County and 40 other counties in eastern Kansas and western Missouri are part of a new National Heritage Area called Freedom's Frontier.

            National Heritage Areas have been founded throughout the United States and are defined by history, cultures and landscapes that have shaped American history. Treasurer Judy Billings of the Freedom's Frontier Board of Trustees said that 37 National Heritage Areas currently exist. Billings said Freedom's Frontier was officially recognized as a National Heritage Area when President Bush signed the National Heritage Act of 2006 on October 12. National Park Services requires all National Heritage areas to complete a general management plan, and Freedom's Frontier's is now in the works.

            The Freedom's Frontier management plan is designed to engage citizens in their heritage and serve as a guide on how to get involved in the area's establishment. Work on Freedom's Frontier began in 1999, well before it was officially recognized as a National Heritage Area. The planning process officially began in February 2008 and will be finalized in May 2009. Freedom's Frontier will be active in time to participate in the 150^th anniversary of the Civil War from 2011-2015.

            The effort to create Freedom's Frontier began in Douglas County and is centered in Lawrence. The Board of Trustees includes multiple Lawrence residents, including Chairwoman Judge Deanell Reece Tacha, Treasurer Judy Billings, also director of the Lawrence Convention & Visitor's Bureau, and Secretary Charles Jones, also director of the KU Public Management Center.

            The purpose of National Heritage Areas is multifaceted. They promote the history of the designated area, provide education and cultivate business. The main goal of Freedom's Frontier is to incorporate the many individual stories from the area, the viewpoints of Kansans and Missourians, and create one comprehensive story and experience.

             "I am very enthusiastic about the possibility - now it is a reality - we will be able to tell the nation and the world what freedom meant to the people of that time.

These are stories that have sort of been lost in history, and we are going to try to give them focus," Tacha said.            

            There are numerous ideas about how to carry out these initiatives, but they cannot be finalized until a management plan is completed. One possibility is using technologies like the Internet and film to make descriptions and stories of historic sites readily available.

            "You might stand out in a field somewhere where something significant happened. You can look it up on your cell phone. There will be a Web site where you can look up things. One idea is an IMAX theatre. There are lots of options now," Billings said.

            Billings hopes to incorporate this local interpretation of national history into the school system and educate the public with marketing and publicity. A local AAA magazine called Journeys recently printed a three-page article about Freedom's Frontier. The City of Lawrence Web site featured an article by Billings about Freedom's Frontier in the March edition of its newsletter, The Flame.

            Freedom's Frontier also aims to boost local business through tourism and attracting outside businesses. According to a Lawrence Journal-World article from last year, city commissioners conducted a study on how other Big 12 cities attract business and showed that Lawrence is not keeping up.

            "It seems to me that we're kind of behind the times," Commissioner Mike Amyx told the Journal-World.

            Amyx sees the new National Heritage Area as a possibility to bring Lawrence up to date. Tourism is always good for Lawrence's business, and Freedom's Frontier could help outsiders see that Lawrence is good for their business.

            "Seems to me anytime we are able to bring new people in to visit, it gives the opportunity for potential business people to consider spin-off companies in Lawrence," Amyx said.

            The funding for Freedom's Frontier will come from multiple places, including federal funds, public and private donations and taxes.  In The Flame newsletter, Billings said Freedom's Frontier could receive up to $10 million in federal funding. Tacha said Freedom's Frontier has also received sizeable private and public donations already, including money from Kansas and Missouri tourism funds. Some money from taxes like the motel tax has been designated for Freedom's Frontier funding. The organization has no taxing authority of its own and no new taxes will be proposed.  

            Lawrence citizens may be missing out on opportunities to participate in their local government.

            Several municipal committees have position vacancies or soon-to-expire offices.

            According to the March 24^th Lawrence city commission agenda, a total of 18 vacancies exist in eight city advisory boards, such as the Traffic Safety Commission, the Library Board and the Mechanical Code Board of Appeals, which handles building code restrictions.

03102009.mp3 

            Advisory Boards exist in the Lawrence as part of the city's Citizen Participation Plan.

            Goals of the plan include encouraging citizen participation in local government by providing timely access to meetings and technical assistance, if necessary. 

            "The biggest reason for vacancies is lack of interest in participation," said Curtis Harris, a representative for the Community Development Advisory Committee, which is responsible for allocating grant money to city organizations. "But there are also people that just don't know about the involvement possibilities," he said.

            "Two of our eleven seats are vacant right now. We never have more money than we have ideas and applications for, and it's challenging to determine who gets the funds and who doesn't," said Harris.

            There are restrictions on some committee members, such as requirements that an applicant live in a certain neighborhood or have certain expertise.

            "Some boards require architects, landlords, or engineers. Every board has a different requirement," said Gary Mohr, whose term on the Mechanical Code Board of Appeals expires at the end of March.

Volunteers that hold committee offices are eligible, in most cases, for two, three-year terms.

            The restriction on the number of terms a person can take is likely another causes of the position vacancies.

            "People's terms expire, and you can only be appointed to so many terms, so you just can't serve after that," said Harris. "Then we're left with an empty spot until it is filled."

            A committee member who is eligible for another term can sometimes fill open positions, but sometimes the mayor must appoint a new member.

            "If we have a vacancy, the mayors will sometimes talk to the applicants about what they've applied for. They'll look at everybody who has applied, and make a decision about who fits best from there," said Bobbie Walthall, a representative from the City Manager's office.

            Lawrence residents who are interested in filling a vacancy in any of the city advisory boards can apply online at the City of Lawrence website or send a letter of interest to Mayor Mike Dever.