Jeremy Stephens' birthday is two days before the Fourth of July.
When a person's birthday is linked that closely to a nation's celebration of its birth, an interest in history might be expected. But Stephens, a designer of commercial fire protection systems at GFS Texas, isn't just interested in history. He lives it.
Stephens is an aficionado of Civil War battles who has participated in more reenactments than he can count.
"I got into it in college. Now, I probably do eight reenactments a year -- more in the spring and fall. The ones in the winter can be brutal," he says.
Stephens has suited up for both the blue and the gray (Union and Confederacy). His commitment to historical accuracy can determine which uniform he will pull from his trunk.
"If I go to an event and 200 people dress up as Confederates and only 50 as federal soldiers, that doesn't look right in a battle the Union won. On the fly, we will change uniforms. In the end, what we want to do is portray history as accurately as possible," he notes.
Stephens admits to being "pretty extreme" because he takes authenticity beyond the battlefield.
Tuesday
No Bull about Bulldozing...Newspaper, Texas
The boys are older. The toys are bigger. And it's not the same old sandlot, that's for sure. But the heart of the kid is still very present at DMH Excavating, started in December 2006 by Dave Hieb.
The lure of the dirt pile and shovel never quite left Hieb and his brother, who now lives in Tennessee and started hauling dirt there with a truck he had fixed up for someone else.
"He was in it about a year or so before me and said, 'You need to get into this. This is a good deal,'" Hieb recalls.
The brothers' shared fascination with excavation equipment -- the bulldozers, backhoes, payloaders, and more -- goes way back.
"We were farm kids in North Dakota. We played in the dirt," he says.
In the category of "strange, but true," a fire fueled their passion.
"When we were little guys, a Coast-to-Coast hardware store caught on fire. A bunch of Tonka toys and metal toys like that were smoke-damaged, even burnt a little," he says.
"When that happened, dad went to town one day and came home with a whole pickup load of toys that he gave very little for, I'm sure," says Hieb. "We would spend hours playing with them. It was in our blood."
Today, years after careers in agriculture and owning a remodeling company, Hieb's fleet of trucks, trailers, dozers, backhoe, and Bobcat stands ready to prepare land, do pad sites, push out trees, and his favorite activity: make ponds.
"I like the creativity. I'm kind of like an artist with a blade," says Hieb.
The lure of the dirt pile and shovel never quite left Hieb and his brother, who now lives in Tennessee and started hauling dirt there with a truck he had fixed up for someone else.
"He was in it about a year or so before me and said, 'You need to get into this. This is a good deal,'" Hieb recalls.
The brothers' shared fascination with excavation equipment -- the bulldozers, backhoes, payloaders, and more -- goes way back.
"We were farm kids in North Dakota. We played in the dirt," he says.
In the category of "strange, but true," a fire fueled their passion.
"When we were little guys, a Coast-to-Coast hardware store caught on fire. A bunch of Tonka toys and metal toys like that were smoke-damaged, even burnt a little," he says.
"When that happened, dad went to town one day and came home with a whole pickup load of toys that he gave very little for, I'm sure," says Hieb. "We would spend hours playing with them. It was in our blood."
Today, years after careers in agriculture and owning a remodeling company, Hieb's fleet of trucks, trailers, dozers, backhoe, and Bobcat stands ready to prepare land, do pad sites, push out trees, and his favorite activity: make ponds.
"I like the creativity. I'm kind of like an artist with a blade," says Hieb.
Sunday
What'll You Give Me For It?...Corporate Communications, Overland Park, KS
The auction method of marketing not only means finding information about the product but also determining an estimated value. For cars, you can look up the blue book value. For antiques, you can look in numerous price guides. But, what happens when you're faced with more unusual items?
Think of him as Colombo with a gavel in his hand. There's no end to his affability. He'll charm your socks off, even over the telephone. But don't let his sweet-as-a-pussycat demeanor fool you. This is one tough detective who's in an unrelenting, uncompromising, no-holes-barred search for "just the facts, ma'am" when it comes to knowing the value of the items he's being asked to auction. Even unusual items -- such as spring-making equipment designed for a specific purpose and industry that may have long since died away -- can't get the best of him. "There is nothing that's been made that you can't find the value on," he says.
This is a man who should know. Bernie Dworkin, Plano, Texas, who says he's retired after 40 years in the auction business (but does this kind of zeal ever really retire?), once stood atop a snow-covered gold mine. Only in his sixth year as an auctioneer, Dworkin saw a major opportunity in what turned out to be $100 million worth of surplus equipment for the trans-Alaska pipeline in the late 1970s. Eventually he conducted an historic series of auctions -- the first successful heavy equipment auction in Alaska -- for Alyeska Pipeline Service Co., but first he had to dig the stuff out. (During an inspection, while walking in the snow, he discovered he was actually walking on top of pallets of brand new Caterpillar parts.) Then he had to determine the value of all that equipment. He rose to the challenge then, and has been ever
Saturday
WDAF-TV's Damon Bryant: Defying the Odds...News Release, Kansas City
Damon Bryant, vice president of creative services for WDAF-TV-Fox 4 in Kansas City, shifts uncomfortably when an interviewer mentions that he is receiving one of the University of Missouri-Kansas City's most prestigious alumni awards (the "Defying the Odds" Award) in recognition of the many obstacles he has overcome.
"I don't look at it as overcoming obstacles. I was just doing what I was supposed to do," he insists.
"Less is more" may be the mantra of the promotions business, in which Bryant makes his livelihood, but it can't begin to tell the story of Damon Bryant. He may be reluctant to refer to the circumstances of his life as "obstacles," but there is no question that he has traveled a terrain far rougher than most.
Bryant grew up in Kansas City's inner city, near 18th and Brooklyn. In his neighborhood, many junior high and high school kids died, went to jail, or ended up addicted to drugs. As a youth, he preferred to sit quietly in his room holed-up with a book or an artist's pad, making sketches of his high school mascot (Lincoln Preparatory Academy Tigers). He was most assuredly out of step with his environs. But he knew that at an early age.
Domestic relations in his household were rough, with an abusive relationship between his mother and father. When Bryant was in 6th grade, his father went to jail. As the eldest child in a poor family, he became "the man of the house." By age 12, he was working odd jobs to pay for his own clothes and other needs.
At about this time, he had three very important things going for him:
"I don't look at it as overcoming obstacles. I was just doing what I was supposed to do," he insists.
"Less is more" may be the mantra of the promotions business, in which Bryant makes his livelihood, but it can't begin to tell the story of Damon Bryant. He may be reluctant to refer to the circumstances of his life as "obstacles," but there is no question that he has traveled a terrain far rougher than most.
Bryant grew up in Kansas City's inner city, near 18th and Brooklyn. In his neighborhood, many junior high and high school kids died, went to jail, or ended up addicted to drugs. As a youth, he preferred to sit quietly in his room holed-up with a book or an artist's pad, making sketches of his high school mascot (Lincoln Preparatory Academy Tigers). He was most assuredly out of step with his environs. But he knew that at an early age.
Domestic relations in his household were rough, with an abusive relationship between his mother and father. When Bryant was in 6th grade, his father went to jail. As the eldest child in a poor family, he became "the man of the house." By age 12, he was working odd jobs to pay for his own clothes and other needs.
At about this time, he had three very important things going for him:
Troncoso Embraces Career & Latina Role Model Challenges...News Release, Kansas City
Even the untrained eye can admire Fabiola Troncoso's architectural model of a university Guest House and understand why a top award of excellence in design was presented to her by judges from Helix/Architecture and Design, the American Institute of Architects, Kansas State University, and the University of Missouri-Kansas City Dept. of Architecture, Urban Planning and Design.
A peek through the window of the model reveals interior design detail that is exquisite. In conversation about the education she is receiving at UMKC, her past, her future, and her responsibility to other Latinos, Troncoso demonstrates quickly that she is keeping an eye on both the small details AND the big picture of life, as well as building models.
Troncoso is concerned about the high college dropout rate among Latinos and understands full well the sacrifices -- and the support systems -- that are necessary to create a more positive educational future for them.
Her parents, Mary Elizabeth and Jorge Troncoso of Gladstone, MO, both successful architectural engineers in Mexico, sacrificed their careers to bring her to the U.S. from Chihuahua when she was ten. She credits their support as fundamental in giving her the direction and ambition to succeed.
A peek through the window of the model reveals interior design detail that is exquisite. In conversation about the education she is receiving at UMKC, her past, her future, and her responsibility to other Latinos, Troncoso demonstrates quickly that she is keeping an eye on both the small details AND the big picture of life, as well as building models.
Troncoso is concerned about the high college dropout rate among Latinos and understands full well the sacrifices -- and the support systems -- that are necessary to create a more positive educational future for them.
Her parents, Mary Elizabeth and Jorge Troncoso of Gladstone, MO, both successful architectural engineers in Mexico, sacrificed their careers to bring her to the U.S. from Chihuahua when she was ten. She credits their support as fundamental in giving her the direction and ambition to succeed.
Friday
Bottle-to-Bottom-Line, Billions Lost...GasNews, Los Angeles
In the traditional song, Auld Lang Syne, an alcoholic drink is called a "cup of kindness." But when a glass is raised once too often, when "use" of alcohol turns to "abuse" of alcohol, a belt of booze is anything but kind.
For corporations, the sobering fact is that American businesses lose $20 billion a year in lower production alone due to drinking problems of employees. The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism estimates that five million Americans, rougly 7% of the national work force, are problem drinkers.
SoCal is among the companies that discovered two decades ago that alcohol abuse has seeped behind corporate walls. In 1961, the gas company established an alcohol rehabilitation program to bring troubled employees back to sobriety.
The two main features of the program are: counseling with a physician, who is a SoCal consultant, Dr. Nicholas Khoury, and the use of Antabuse, a drug that reacts chemically with alcohol to make an alcoholic sick if he or she loses the willpower and takes a drink. Employees may also seek help through community programs or other physicians.
"There are 27 people in the program now," says Herb Stewart, supervisor of employee benefits in industrial relations, who oversees the program. "Four of those are women. Approximately 80 to 90 employees have gone through the program since it was established in 1961."
But, those are not just statistics. Those are people who found themselves unable to function normally in their daily lives without depending on alcohol.
Most were referred to the program by supervisors, disturbed about decreased productivity or frequent absences. Some employees sought outside help on their own -- mustering what courage they could to try to shake off a habit that had grown too complex and frustrating to handle.
"I drank since I was 14 years old.
"There are 27 people in the program now," says Herb Stewart, supervisor of employee benefits in industrial relations, who oversees the program. "Four of those are women. Approximately 80 to 90 employees have gone through the program since it was established in 1961."
But, those are not just statistics. Those are people who found themselves unable to function normally in their daily lives without depending on alcohol.
Most were referred to the program by supervisors, disturbed about decreased productivity or frequent absences. Some employees sought outside help on their own -- mustering what courage they could to try to shake off a habit that had grown too complex and frustrating to handle.
"I drank since I was 14 years old.
Active Dad in a Wheelchair: Wally Frost...Family Life Today, California
The endless hours that Wally Frost spent hitting grounders and roughhousing with his five children produced more than an album of faded photographs and memories. His own athletic intuition, enthusiasm, and firm, but gentle, coaching built five tough competitors, all of whom are facing prominent sports careers.
Like other fathers, Wally is proud of his children. Unlike other fathers, Wally is confined to a wheelchair and has been ever since he was diagnosed with polio 35 years ago.
He was an accomplished athlete in his own right when he was stricken and left paralyzed from the waist down. Twenty years old, brash, and confident, Wally had returned from military service in World War II determined not to let the changing times in any way divert his lifelong dream: the dream of becoming a professional football player.
He enrolled at Wheaton College in Wheaton, Illinois. His 235-pound, 6'4" frame made him a natural for the college football tem and he quickly proved himself adept at executing plays mapped out by the coach. That skill earned him a spot on the varsity team, one of only two freshmen to receive such an honor. And that 1946 football season, Wally was named as a tackle among the starters.
One day after practice, Wally noticed a tingling sensation in his legs. Gradually, a creeping paralysis took hold. Wally was ordered to bed with a burning fever and a headache. In a matter of days, Wally had lost the use of his legs, legs that had run the length of the football field so many times.
"It was completely devastating to me at first," he remembers. "I would pray to God that I would go to sleep and not wake up."
The bitterness ran deep. Sports was not just an enjoyable pastime for Wally; he thrived on it.
Scenes of a City...GuestInformant: Kansas City
There are two kinds of Kansas Citians. There are the natives and then there are the "natives." The former were born here. They have marked the passage of years by the golden-hued sunsets of autumn, dripping like honey from the white branches of sycamores that grace this city. Those delicate trees, like a company of ballet dancers, stretch their white arms, pivoting and prancing in the gusty winds across Kansas City's soft green hillsides.
They have reveled in September watercolor landscapes not obscured by the pollution that has accompanied progress in other well-intentioned metropolises. They have seen their city survive floods, fires, and uprooting tornadoes that nearly yanked away everything at times -- everything but the hopes and optimism of a diligent people who have learned how to cope with the elements.
They now watch proudly and unabashedly as Kansas City comes into its economic spring. Buffered by its growing national reputation as an affordable and good place to live, and by the gold-rush mentality of Fortune 500 companies, of which more than 200 have offices here, Kansas City gingerly unfolds. It captivates its residents and could-be residents with a quality that will bring them back time and time again -- a homeyness, a friendliness that forms the marrow of life in Kansas City.
Kansas City is a family town. It is a community...a place where people commune with each other.
It is no surprise, then, that there is a second kind of "native." They came from other shores to this City of Kansas (as it was reincorporated in 1853, first being the Town of Kansas) at the confluence of the Missouri and Kaw rivers. Some may have come here via job relocations, or quite by accident, popped here from other places like ice cubes from one of those plastic trays you twist. Everyone's twist of fate is a little bit different.
However they come to call themselves Kansas Citians, a commonality tends to develop.
Kansas City is a family town. It is a community...a place where people commune with each other.
It is no surprise, then, that there is a second kind of "native." They came from other shores to this City of Kansas (as it was reincorporated in 1853, first being the Town of Kansas) at the confluence of the Missouri and Kaw rivers. Some may have come here via job relocations, or quite by accident, popped here from other places like ice cubes from one of those plastic trays you twist. Everyone's twist of fate is a little bit different.
However they come to call themselves Kansas Citians, a commonality tends to develop.
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