Time Well Spent
Carol Aastad’s passion comes full circle in retirement, as she supports women and children in need
By: Maria Coole
Carol Aastad worked in promotional advertising for 29 years. She helped businesses find ways to get their message out to consumers via coffee mugs, pens or golf hats adorned with company logos. Now that she’s retired, what she promotes doesn’t occupy space on a product, but has taken up residence with many local families.
A secure, nurturing home environment. Self-esteem. Good parenting.
Carol is working hard in her retirement to encourage these qualities and characteristics as a volunteer with two organizations she got involved with soon after moving to Lancaster in 2009: CASA of Lancaster County (Court Appointed Special Advocates) and Milagro House, which provides housing, education and counseling for homeless mothers and their children. Learn more at www.casalancaster.org and www.milagrohouse.org.
In fact, both organizations separately honored Carol Aastad as Volunteer of the Year for 2011 at their annual galas.
“I was retired and looking for something meaningful and fulfilling to do. I had some free time and wanted that time to be well spent,” says Carol, who is 71.
Carol and her husband, Andy, moved to Willow Valley Retirement Community from their home in North Carolina. The couple looked at “all the opportunities on the East Coast,” says Carol, and no place satisfied them as much as the retirement community at Willow Valley. “We love it here. We like the beauty of Lancaster County.”
Carol became a court-appointed special advocate about two and a half years ago when CASA had just begun in Lancaster County, after she took a 30-hour training course.
CASA program advocates work with children who are placed in the foster-care system after being removed from homes where they were abused or neglected. Advocates are assigned a child to follow throughout his or her time in foster care, and they represent the child’s interests in court.
“The first goal with CASA is always to reunify the children with their biological parents. Sometimes it works out well. Sometimes doesn’t. If it is not possible [to reunite the family], we terminate parental rights, and then the child can be adopted,” says Carol. When children are adopted, they can begin to be part of a stable, nurturing environment, she says. “The most important thing is that there is no revolving door,” she adds.
Although CASA was new to Lancaster County when Carol signed up, the concept of advocating for foster children was not new to Carol.
In 1980, when Carol was running her own business in Wilmington, Delaware, she was involved with the Junior League and helped to write and lobby for legislation that eventually became a law creating a state foster-care review board. That foster-care review board later became a CASA program in Delaware.
“It’s like I’ve come full circle,” Carol says. Though her life took a different direction, she says she never lost interest in helping children in the foster care system.
And now, once again, she is working toward making sure children have “permanent, safe, nurturing” homes, this time in Pennsylvania.
“It was our discovery in Delaware that children often moved from foster home to foster home, with no stability, and grew up with low self-esteem. And many had problems as adults, and were not contributing to society as they would have if they had had a permanent setting,” says Carol.
“I have always cared deeply in the plight of foster children,” she says.
So it is not surprising that Carol would also be interested in working with Milagro House.
Milagro House, which began 14 years ago, has two locations in Lancaster city, one on South Christian Street and one on West Chestnut Street. Each site can house nine women with their children. The goal is not to provide long-term housing, explains Carol.
“The most important aspect of our program is we provide education to our women during their time in the program, because the educational component is what helps end the poverty or homelessness,” says Carol.
“We like to see our women come in, get their education completed in a year or year and a half, and move out into their own apartment with their children,” she says.
Carol started volunteering with Milagro House around the same time she started with CASA, and is now on the board and is chairwoman of the volunteer committee.
“You feel like you are making a difference in the lives of children and women. If we can break that cycle of abuse and neglect, homelessness and poverty, that will make such a difference for the future,” she says.
“We have a high success rate, because of our three pronged approach [of housing, education and counseling],” says Carol.
Carol says her volunteer work is very rewarding.
“In both cases, I am working with people who have had to make some tough choices and been dealt some less than opportune situations, and they really need to pull themselves up and have a lot of resolve to change their lives and become independent and be able to be good parents again,” she says.
Volunteering is just part of her busy life, however.
Carol and her husband, Andy, love golfing together and traveling. The two have a blended family, with five children and three grandchildren. She also enjoys participating in the fitness programs at Willow Valley, and she leads the women’s golf group at the retirement community. Cooking is another love of hers, and she goes to Central Market once or twice a week for fresh produce.
“Andy says he doesn’t even try to keep up with me,” Carol says with a smile.
A Horse is a Horse
Mike Budesheim gives children with special needs a “Leg Up”
By: Cindy Kalinoski
Mike Budesheim holds onto the saddle while Dominick Rutkowski slides the stirrups up the leather straps. Dominick loosens the girth, then he and Mike move to the other side of Chance, a grey quarter horse, who watches them out of the corner of his eye. Dominick, with Mike standing by, lifts off the saddle.
It’s all part of the deal at Leg Up Farm in Emigsville (www.legupfarm.org). Under the direction of instructors, volunteers work alongside children with special needs as they learn horsemanship—not just riding but also caring for the horse and tack, or equipment, used with the horse. What’s understood is that children like Dominick, who has Asperger’s syndrome (a mild form of autism), are learning much more in the process.
The therapeutic riding program, like the rest of the farm’s offerings, helps children who have developmental delays, learning disabilities or injuries. Led by equine director Megan Giordano, it employs alternative approaches to learning and communicating as it teaches horsemanship skills. Launched in April 2010, the farm has only 28 employees, yet it has served over 550 children and their families so far. Megan observes, “The volunteer piece is the backbone to our program. We couldn’t operate without that.”
It’s fortunate, then, that volunteerism is alive and well at Leg Up. Recently they mobilized 1,200 volunteers to assemble an extensive playground in just 7 days, logging 800 volunteer hours. But what keeps the farm going on a daily basis is a smaller group of about 250 volunteers and an even smaller cluster who show up several times a week.
Take the farm’s 2011 volunteer of the year, Mike Budesheim, who logged 519 hours last year. He’s there at least three days a week. But those are just the hours that actually count, when he’s signed in on site. Development Director Tom O’Connor comments, “Mike puts Leg Up Farm first. He gets our mission, and he works every time he’s here—not just in the building. Leg Up Farm is always at the top of mind for Mike as he thinks of ways he can help. He is the epitome of making a difference.”
Leg Up’s equine program helps children physically by strengthening legs and core muscles. It also works on social and communication skills. Mike volunteers as a “side walker” in the equine program, walking alongside the children on horseback. Although he had no experience with special needs and his exposure to horses was “zip,” Mike quickly came up with two ideas that have enlivened the program.
First, there’s Bob. That would be Bob Bear, a puppet Mike purchased for the farm, who now has his own Facebook page. Then there’s the music Mike brings in—lively songs like “Wheels on the Bus.” “Bob” tells the children to, say, put their hands on their head and walk in front of the horse. The kids get used to responding to the instructions, while warming up their muscles, improving coordination, and interacting with the team. The music and the puppet make it feel more like a game than therapy. Mike’s wife, Sue, who also volunteers there, observes, “It’s not just that the kids are working on something. They don’t even realize they’re working, because it’s a fun environment.”
But Mike isn’t just about fun—he’s always ready to help with whatever is next. “’Mr. Muck,’ he calls himself,” says Megan. “He’ll do anything from barn work to grooming the horses to making sure everything is in line and ready for the lessons.”
Tom adds, “When we started, Mike was beating the street trying to get donations for events or products. Whatever we needed, he was out talking to people about it. He’s been a great ambassador for Leg Up Farm.”
What captured Mike’s imagination was discovering that what he saw as a simple task could keep kids with special needs from enjoying a particular activity. Last year, Leg Up’s founder Louie Castriota approached Mike about a new project: a wheelchair-accessible fishing pond. Mike, a keen fisherman, began researching the possibilities. “It’s relaxing, and it’s a new experience for the kids. Plus it’s another opportunity they won’t have otherwise,” Mike explains. “If I can just contribute to helping a child achieve a goal and be able to enjoy the same things that I take for granted, it’s all worthwhile.”
The fish pond is part of a bigger project called the Rainbow Garden, with a planned music area (think wind chimes and xylophones), sensory garden, putting green, hopscotch, and anything else they can think of that stimulates play. The theory is that children learn a lot through play. With the garden adjacent to the playground and near trails for riding, walking and birding, there will be a lot of learning going on.
The farm’s other offerings—from occupational and speech therapy to a Paws for Reading program and more—give volunteers like Mike a chance to see progress of all kinds. He comments, “You see a child on the horse every week and they start to verbalize, they’re building up their strength and their confidence. It’s an amazing thing.” Others who were unable to sit up in a wheelchair become strong enough to ride, while another group improves reading, balance and coordination.
Dominick, according to his mother, Loren Rutkowski, has made dramatic progress, and is working toward showing horses. “He’s changed,” she says. “He’s more outgoing, and his confidence is up. He’s going to be jumping soon. More important, he could be unhappy on a given day, and I bring him here and his day is made.” Strides like these are becoming more and more common at the farm, but they continue to amaze Mike and Sue.
The couple works with the same kids every week, so they like to compare notes when they get home. Sue remarks, “The two of us are just ecstatic. We ask each other, ‘Did you see this?’ or ‘Did you see that?’” Mike offers, “It’s just a remarkable place to be. They do miracles at the farm in every area every day. Without question it’s the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.” He adds, “You cannot leave without a smile on your face or a tear in your eye every day, because you see something special happening while you’re there.”
Goodwill Hunting
Barry Landis finds “Goodwill Treasures” to sell at auction and their annual event, to benefit the organization’s mission of job creation.
By: Diane M. McCormick
The ring was in a green bin, jumbled with the jewelry that Barry Landis sorts to separate quality from junk. Typically, if he suspects a good piece, he’ll pick it up to inspect the back for the signs of fine workmanship, because “everybody’ll make it look good from the front.”
Landis didn’t even have to pick up this ring.
“I knew that the filigree work that was done on the shank could only be done on white gold or platinum,” he recalls.
Then he picked it up. “I immediately figured there was about an 80 percent chance that it was what I thought it was. You can tell by the weight. Platinum is a much heavier metal, much denser than white gold.”
Landis is a retired jeweler who devotes up to 20 hours a week spotting the hidden gems—and precious metals, valuable antiques, and sought-after collectibles—among the tons of donations moving through Goodwill Keystone Area’s vast Harrisburg sorting center (www.yourgoodwill.org). His finds are posted on shopgoodwill.com, a kind of eBay for Goodwills nationwide, or destined for auction at Goodwill Treasures, Goodwill Keystone Area’s fundraiser scheduled for September 28, 2012, at the Peter Allen House, Dauphin.
“We try to look at it with a critical eye and see where it’ll raise the most revenue,” Landis says.
On this day two years ago, Landis’ trained eye spotted the ring that would draw worldwide media attention—vintage platinum with a 2.6 karat diamond. Auctioned on shopgoodwill.com, the ring raised $15,500 for Goodwill Keystone Area, which provides education, career services, job placement, post-employment support, and personal development to 3,400 people with disabilities in 22 Pennsylvania counties.
Landis and his wife, Suzanne, operated Landis Jewelers, the Camp Hill store originally founded by his father in Harrisburg in the 1930s, until they closed the business in the 1990s. Landis grew up in the family apartment above the store. His earliest memory is unpacking china and glassware with his father.
He also remembers learning about Goodwill from his father, a board member and one-time president of what was then the Harrisburg Goodwill. When Landis took over the business after college and Coast Guard service, he also got involved with Goodwill’s retailing committee. That led to his longtime—and still ongoing—board membership.
“I saw what they were doing,” he says. “I thought there was a way I could work my knowledge into it. I could see physically the outcome of their mission. I see the good that it does. The clients are just happy to be there. They’re happy to have a job, whether or not they progress out of that setting into other settings. It just makes me feel good that they feel good.”
The need to draw as much possible revenue from retail operations and other sources has grown imperative.
“Funding for programs has been becoming more problematic,” Landis says. “Any revenue that we can raise helps extend the life of our programs.”
Which brought Landis, in a way, to the workshop–the sprawling space where Goodwill clients have jobs sorting through bags and boxes of donated clothing, housewares, books, toys and jewelry. All jewelry, from the cheapest beads to priceless platinum, goes into green bins for Landis’ perusal, and antiques of all sorts–everything from bear rugs to bobsleds–also undergo his scrutiny.
Sometimes, the sorters bring items directly to Landis. They greet him fondly, saying, “Hi, Mr. Barry,” as he walks to his desk–actually, several tables tucked into a corner of the workshop–where items for review are waiting.
A recent collection destined for shopgoodwill.com included a white gold bracelet, marcasite butterfly brooch, antique Waltham ladies’ watch that still works, and Napier costume earrings-and-pin set. Landis once lifted the pad in a jewelry case holding an inexpensive trinket and found a hundred-dollar bill. Sometimes, he makes up a story line to go with his finds.
“Some grandmother or someone gave a daughter just a little pendant to remember her by, but the real gift was the hundred-dollar bill, and the daughter never looked,” he surmises. “I sometimes think that someone died in the family, and they took grandma’s box with all these beads and lord knows what, and down at the bottom is something they should truly take some time with, and they just give the whole box. There’s nothing wrong with that. It all is used. There’s nothing that goes to waste. I don’t care if it’s a broken chain. I pull it out.”
Goodwills nationwide have similar missions but operate differently, says Jennifer Ross, senior director of marketing and public relations for Goodwill Keystone Area.
“No other Goodwill has a Barry,” she says. “We’re very blessed to have him because he does bring business expertise. He has raised probably hundreds of thousands of dollars because of his great skill.”
Landis’ eagle eye has helped build anticipation for Goodwill Treasures, which raised $48,000 in 2011 and is now in its 16th year. One year, an old bottle that Landis spotted attracted collectors who bought $100 tickets for the event just to get in on the bidding.
“Past guests are asking us, ‘What is Barry finding?’” says Ross. “He’s definitely building a reputation.”
Landis has learned that one good item in a batch of jewelry often means that another is nearby. The platinum ring, for instance, was keeping company with 14-karat gold cufflinks. “It’s defeating when I go through bags and bags of jewelry and don’t find anything. I like to find things.”
But even the platinum ring didn’t set the veteran jeweler’s heartbeat to racing, although more than a few staffers almost fainted when he showed it to them.
“All I could think about was that this was going to raise quite a bit for Goodwill’s programs,” he says.
As Landis walks toward his desk in the Goodwill Keystone Area workshop, a man pulling shirts from boxes says, “Hi, Barry.” A younger colleague looks up.
“Oh, that’s Barry,” the young man says. “The guy that runs the antiques table.”
That’s what energizes Landis–Goodwill’s mission and the changes he has seen for people with disabilities in his decades of volunteering.
“They’re treated with much more respect these days, as well they should be,” he says. “There was a time when none of this was available. Many of them are just thrilled to come to work.”
