Community Counseling Centers of Central Connecticut Inc.

January 29, 2014

Sometimes we are the teachers, sometimes we are the students but to me the best times are when we are both. As a wise person taught me many years ago, we have two ears but only one mouth so we should make it a point to listen twice as much as we talk.

If we do that we can discover that there is so much to learn in and from life and those around us. Years ago when working at a health food store I met an interesting man. He smelled of a mixture of what seemed to me to be pipe tobacco (very sweet blend) and a machine shop. He wanted a container of freshly ground peanut butter and we were happy to oblige.

He spoke of how much healthier this was than the jarred stuff that was packed with extra oils, preservatives etc. If it was not sweet enough for you he suggested simply adding farm fresh honey. I swear I never tasted a peanut butter sandwich so fresh and delicious. To look at him he would not be your first choice for health advice: well-worn and stained hands that held deep cracks and splits, a beard that appeared to have had little contact with scissors and would not know what a razor was.

He also had well-worn clothes. He spoke of an undying love of his mother, who he continued to live with and take care of well past the years when most of us move on (then again, Nana, my mom, still lives with us, or is it we still live with her? Who knows and who cares whose name is on the deed). He did not appear to be rich financially and from everything he told me he was a firm believer in living simple. He didn’t need the latest and greatest of anything, not when he had something that would do the job well enough. He may not have had the most formal education but he knew enough to get the job done.

When some people talk of success they turn towards the material worth of a person. They look at the house, car and other tangible items but many could not care less about the content of the person. To me this is missing a key component to success as one can be monetarily rich while being morally bankrupt. What good is it to be rich enough to keep up with the Kardashians if well, you also live and act like a Kardashian? So while we may enjoy a classy ride and a visit to the latest and greatest club or restaurant; we may enjoy the glitz and glamor to be found in the high life, it is important to periodically take stock in ourselves and see what really matters the most.

While I cannot speak for everyone nor can I define what will bring you true happiness, I can tell you that in my experience a person who has lost sight of what means the most to them is much like a ship without a rudder. A life without meaning is not a life that is worth living, but so long as you are alive you can turn things around and regain what was lost or what has always been missing.

Years ago when I was a new doctor I found myself thrust into a life that I had never imagined. Doors that had been closed to me were suddenly opened. People who previously would not pay attention to me were all of a sudden my “friends.” Money was coming in faster than I had seen before and I started buying fancy things. I routinely bought Tiffany jewelry for my wife and also a bit for myself.

When needing to appear in court I went to the tailor for the first time and had a few complete suits fitted, followed by fancy shoes, silk ties and a cashmere long coat to go with it. According to the “nature boy” Ric Flair, I was “styling and profiling.” Life was good and it was fun to call a restaurant for a reservation for “doctor and Mrs. Corson.” Fun that is until it wasn’t… After a bit I found that the superficial life was not for me. I took stock in my life and looked at what meant the most and what was simply not worth my time.

I found that I missed the connection that I had with nature, I missed who I used to be and did not like living the role of the “young doctor.” Soon the fancy stuff stayed in the garment bags, reserved for court appearances as an expert witness, weddings and funerals. Gone was the Tiffany money clip and reservations and in came the jeans, t shirts and time at a local farm (now Pillwillop Therapeutic Farm).

For me, I found that I had no need for a flashy car and in fact these days I can be found driving a 17 year old Ford pickup that is full of rust and lacks a radio (I do hope to have one eventually). Gone is the fancy motorcycle; it was traded for a classic farm tractor that I use regularly at the farm. Found was a renewed sense of self, a renewed sense of meaning. I also regained my smile. By losing the superfluities of life I found the substance.

Sometimes it’s the little things that matter the most. How do you define success?

December 9, 2013

As a shrink I have seen many reactions to certain dates. Some folks find themselves overcome with great joy recounting life changing events while others find themselves feeling as if they have been covered by a great dark shadow, being haunted by a date. At times I have worked with folks who felt very bad but were unsure as to the reason until the date is mentioned, it seems as if subconsciously they knew the date and it cast its shadow on them without revealing why. Depending on your age you can tell people where you were and what was going on when you learned that JFK, RFK were assassinated, when the space shuttle exploded or the towers fell. Some things you just never forget.

I write this after listening to Bette Midler’s “The Rose,” which was my late sister’s favorite song. Today (December 2nd when I received the call that my sister collapsed and was motionless on the floor. I remember my trembling hands as I jumped out of bed and dressed so that I could make the trip to the motel where she had been living since losing her apartment after becoming ill and no longer being able to work. I can still see the paramedics outside apparently telling jokes; how they laughed and gave one another high-fives. I was not even there in their eyes. I recall the momentary feeling of hope when seeing them cavort, feeling they were complimenting one another for a job well done only to feel my world collapse when entering the room and seeing her bed empty, traveling to the bathroom to find her lifeless body face down on the floor.

They lacked the decency to even cover her, or warn us of what we would find. She was just another poor person who died in a “welfare motel.” There was no fanfare, no public outcry about the death of someone who was too young and by definition suffering from nothing life threatening, only debilitating. The problem was lack of proper medical care and an inability to pay for needed treatment… Tragic events can taint us, they can make us bitter by leaving an indelible mark on our souls that we wear like a badge which seemingly allows us to be as negative as we want to be. It can also help redirect our energies to become more than we had been, to make a change or in some cases to BE the change that is so surely needed. While I cannot speak for others, I can tell you that I decided on the latter stance. I wanted to do what I could to help prevent another family from being left feeling adrift after the senseless loss of a loved one.

I also wanted to do what I could to make a real and lasting change in my community and perhaps the world. While I will never be rich, nor will I be famous, I can honestly say that through my work at the not for profit, lives have been changed. Sessions have been provided to people from across this state and several others. Consultations have been conducted with folks from around the world and our model has been adapted to meet the needs of folks in countries that I have never been, nor am I likely to ever be.

Tragedies can be the reason that we feel that all is lost, but having lost all that we thought we had need not be the end of our story but instead it can be the beginning of something powerful. So often we hear of folks ending careers, quitting school, giving in and giving up because of a catastrophe but perhaps maybe, just maybe, those of us that understand the pain are greatly suited to help those who have also suffered a loss?

Who better than the injured or previously injured to think up ways to ) is the anniversary of her death at the age of 35. I recall the day oh so many years ago help others in need? Back in the days when I had the time to sit back and enjoy the love that only nature can provide; I noticed a woodland animal that had obviously lost its mate. I watched it return to the same spot every day, looking lost, looking sad.

I remember the wails it let out, perhaps shouting to heaven to let its love know that it was in hell without them. In time the wails fell silent though it never appeared the same. It always seemed to be searching for something that was never meant to be. So many people spend the rest of their lives filled with grief; tragedy without a purpose only leads to emptiness and pain. Those who can find meaning in their lives and a reason to go on find not only a purpose in life but also a purpose for life. I still recall the pain of it all and the emptiness it left but I also recall the purpose that lead to the meaning which lead to the founding of a new hope.

And with this new hope came change and with the change came a new set of dates and milestones in my mission to help alleviate the pain and sorrow of others. Many of you are faced with a new date of pain. Help is out there. With work and time to heal, this pain may lead you down a path that will enable you to make a difference in the lives of others. Will you be the hope for a better tomorrow for those who will

November 18, 2013

You can tell a great deal about a person by their tractor. I knew a man whose name escapes me at the moment, and he had this pristine condition older John Deere tractor. To say it was a classic would be an understatement; it had all original paint and parts and I’ll be darned if I could find a scratch or wear mark on it. Other than very minor fading and some weather cracking on the rear tire, it looked almost as it did when it came off the assembly line. He was a good guy to boot and would talk of farming and the hard work associated with it for hours on end. He was the first to volunteer to use his tractor for parades and the like. He was a pleasure to talk to.

As for me, well my tractor isn’t so pretty. It has wear on the wear, the gauges may work this year as we worked diligently on it all winter trying to get it up and running again after seeing that the 1960’s electrical which had many an emergency field repair had become less than reliable. Almost every wire needed to be traced and repaired or replaced. It seems it started its life as a 6 volt but decades ago was haphazardly upgraded to a 12 volt system which fried the gauges and much of the wires that were not rated for the voltage. It has seen its share of mud, rain, sun and wind. It is much faded and well-worn but when you need it, it typically fires right up.

My tractor won’t go winning any awards for beauty and though it is tough it may never win a pulling contest either. It doesn’t need to as it was made not for shows nor parades but for work. Much like me and many others.

When it comes to relationships there are many kinds of people that we may become involved with. Some are proven reliable but may have a few quirks or scares. Some may look flashier and be easy on the eyes but lack the ability or desire necessary to even contemplate the many hard roads and travails that go into making a real and lasting relationship.

In the world of therapy and of therapeutic farming, I have seen many types of folks who come in for treatment related to relationships. I have seen those who are road weary, having been put through far too much by an uncaring spouse. I have seen those who bear the burdens of feeling powerless in the face of a long and hard illness that is or has recently taken their spouse; no matter what they did, no matter the specialist, there was simply nothing that modern treatment could to to alleviate the pain or suffering nor prevent the death of those they loved the most.

Sadly, I have also seen those who enter a relationship simply to enjoy that short “honeymoon” period where it seems like every day is the prom and you have both been voted king and queen; only to bail once things got “real.” I have seen relationships ended because of a loss of job, the loss of youth, the loss of perceived beauty and even the loss of interest. Under the veneer, there was no heart, or so it would appear.

I once knew a couple who in their marriage vows planned to add to the “death do us part” section the caveats that they too could end the relationship if he lost his hair or she lost her “tight body.” I am unsure if the preacher allowed this, but if they did not change their mindsets I am sure the marriage likely failed.

When choosing a mate there is no one size fits all approach. We all want what we want and are attracted to what we personally find most appealing. Some like short, other tall. Some like skinny, some large. Hopefully most prefer the quality of one’s self over the fleeting beauty of the veneer, for as sure as the sun will rise and fall, youth will come and if we are lucky enough to survive it, it will fall to age. The beauty of youth will have passed us by but the beauty of age is still beauty but often defined differently.

    Recently I went to look at a tractor that hopefully will become the newest addition to the working farm museum that we are working on. If we got it, it will be one of our newest ones as it is from the early 1950’s. It was a beauty to behold. It bore that scars of many an encounter with hard work. Its battery was too worn to turn it over, its hydraulic hoses holding fluid but frayed and weather cracked. It appeared to have had a fender “banged out” a time or two. In short, it was perfect for a working farm museum where we celebrate the accomplishments of farmers over the glamour of fresh paint and shows.

As I was headed up the driveway I noticed a relic from days long gone. A 1920’s Fordson tractor (shortened from “Ford and Son.”). Fenders were missing, everything the color of rust and some motor pieces had long since been removed. Though the steel wheels were converted to rubber, I fell in love instantly and am attempting to have this lawn ornament become one of the focal points of the working farm museum, whether it can be made to run or not. If we can get it to run, my money is that it will remain rusty, though we will stabilize it the best we can. I too wanted to know everything I could about this and the other tractors owners. Their stories are important to me as is the legacy that they represent.

We all deserve to be loved, though we need not be in a relationship if it is not a healthy one. Many choose to live alone than live with the wrong person. We all typically find the “perfect” one for us, even if that perfect one is actually living alone by choice. We all have beauty and are desirable, but not all will agree on the definition. Some like my friend, love the well painted and displayable newness, while others prefer something that has often been tried and never denied meeting their responsibilities.

So as you contemplate your relationship, I humbly suggest that you look not only towards your better half but also yourself. Are the lines on a face, the calluses on the hands viewed as assets or as liabilities? While you make the assessment, take a good hard look to find out just what color is your tractor.

Many parents when hearing the words “Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder” ascribed to their child feel a whirlwind of emotions. They fear that education may become impossible, the dreams of college, tech school or general success will never be possible. Some even talk of their worlds coming to an end, their child will be “lost” and never amount to anything. Shock, panic, denial and a slew of other emotions follow; most of which are needless. When faced with the parents of children with ADHD (or with adults who are just learning that they have it) I often say one word “congratulations.” To me as a provider, this is not the end of the world or the end of dreams but the beginning of a new trip, one that may be difficult at times as life often is, but one that can and often does end in many positive ways.

ADHD as it is commonly referred to, is not an impassable road block but simply the understanding of a learning style, one that is different from the average but one that has so much potential to lead to great things. Education is not impossible but it may require some customization for your child. The one size fits all style of education preferred by politicians will likely not suit your child BUT that does not mean that they will be blocked from succeeding. It simply means that there will be a need to be dynamic in finding ways to insure that your child learns to the best of their ability. This is done through some hard work on the parts of the parents, child, teachers and other professionals that may be required.

Step one for me is to gain a better understanding on how they think, learn and produce the best. What is their attention span? What areas or subjects do they have a more natural attraction to? How tactile (desire to touch) are they? Do they have any insight into what works best for them or do they simply feel lost? Depending on these answers, more research is needed or a plan can now be developed. Many times with little guidance the client, parents or a combination of folks will have the answers, they just never were asked.

For instance, some of the folks who are told they cannot or do not pay attention actually suffer not from a lack of attention but from hypervigilant attention, which in this case simply means that they pay attention to just about everything in the room. An example of this would be the person who is asked to retell everything they noticed about a room, experience etc. and they can recall a very broad view of the room. Sometimes this broad view results in distracted behavior for sure but it is not due to a lack of attention so much as an attention for everything. One such person was asked to tell me about a given class. She responded that the teacher had been speaking about history, two people next to her were hiding their phones and texting to each other, another person was going in and out of sleep and yet another seemed preoccupied by a boy that they found cute as she was writing his name over and over in her note book. To me, this is not an inability to focus so much as an inability to learn how to shut out the distractions of life and focus on the main part of the class (still, there are jobs where this ability could come in handy).

October 7, 2013

I felt the need to share a recent development in the hopes that it may save someone from making a similar mistake.

Most, if not all, of us owe a great deal to those who came before us. Maybe they gave us one of our first jobs, our first lecture gig, spent time nurturing us to build our professional skills or helped us stay on track when things got too crazy; but there is someone who has added to our existence in some significant way.

                I am far from the end of my career but have to admit that it has been a while since I regularly have been referred to as “kid” and the “young” is now usually dropped before I am referred to as a “hot shot” or something similar. I am not usually the youngest in the clinical meetings I attend either. This is all part of the progression of our professional life and one that we should embrace and enjoy.

                I found a box full of items from one of my first jobs in human services; I was a peer educator and lecturer in my area starting around the age of 16 when a group came to my school and I spoke up in disagreement to some of the statements that they made. To my surprise I was called into the office after the presentation and confronted by the panel who to my surprise asked me to join. After several months I finally agreed and started speaking at small venues before moving to larger ones which lead to state wide conferences and such. Mary Bourdette was then the Director of Public Policy for the Child Welfare League of America and she heard of my work in CT. She contacted my agency and invited me to speak at my first national conference in Washington DC, all expenses paid. I had never been to a large city, never traveled by train, or ever been in a taxi, but now I was presenting in the nation’s capital. I had a conference room that was set up better than some of the popular talk shows of the time (80’s- early 90’s). I saw a world that I never had dreamed. I was asked to return the following year and may have been asked again had I not left the agency and with it lost the contact information (I never gave her or anyone else my personal information). She had given me her card as had dozens of others who could have cemented my career, yet I had never contacted any of them. I wanted to make it to the next level on my own without a hand up or handout (yes, I know now that networking is a great idea but I was a kid then and very short sighted).

                On the rare occasion that I have a few minutes down time I sometimes think about contacting those who have helped me succeed. I picture them exactly how they were the last time I saw them, same clothes, position, office and age; I suppose that most of us do. But I am far from the same person I was back then, I wear different clothes, walk a bit slower and though I still have a head of hair to brush back, it is thinner in places and the color deviations are natural and not the work of “highlights.” This begs a question: Why do we see them stuck in that moment in time when we see ourselves grow older? Why do we tend to think that we have countless tomorrows when in fact, we have a finite length of time and we have no idea of knowing just when “too late” comes?

 Here I was in the state of throwing away memories and then I had her card in my hand. I could barely remember how she looked now but I remembered what she did for me. After all these years I decided to look her up and to finally thank her for what she had done; I even considered exploring a possible board position for her should she be interested. I found an email address for her and wrote a nice email; the one that I had always envisioned writing to her, (of course when I originally envisioned the idea it was pre email and the internet and instead would have been written on a note card, but you get the idea). Within moments I received the permanent error failure notice that we all dread at times. I would need to find a new email address. I did some more research and never found the email address; instead I found some memorial pages; it would appear that another mentor of mine had passed on without knowing how much their work was appreciated by me. I felt a loss to be sure, not just for myself but I thought of all the others who would likely experience this. I also thought of how easy it is to avoid these feelings…

I realize that you do not need me to tell you how to act or how to show that you care, but here we are; indulge me. If there was someone who made a difference in your career take a minute to thank them, whether it is in person, email, phone, card or by other means. Let the only “permanent error” come from a mistyped email address. I would love to know what happens so feel free to share your story with me.

Do good…

 (8-2009)

The other day a friend of mine dropped off a bag of books, some were borrowed and being returned while others were being given to me for personal reading or to give away at my office. In the bag of books I found a package of Jiffy Pop- that prepackaged popping corn that you put on the stove top and watch it increase in size until it is a raging mound of aluminum foil contained pop corny goodness. I had not thought of Jiffy Pop in years. I, like most of the world had given up on this package of fun many years ago because of the advent of microwave popcorn. Micro popcorn is just so quick and easy that who could help but favor it over the more time consuming Jiffy Pop? Unfortunately, there is a downside to the easy pop corn that many of us have failed to recognize- until now at least.

            Micro popcorn takes hardly any time at all. Think about it, you take it out of the box, unwrap the plastic covering to release and unfold the bag. You then place it in the microwave and if your wave is from the past ten years or so, simply press the “popcorn” button. Seconds later, hot and salty popping corn is yours. No real work, no real fun; just buttery goodness. Now Jiffy on the other hand, well it’s not really jiffy by today’s standards. Making some jiffy corn can be a chore by today’s standards but it can also be an opportunity for interaction with the little ones; something micro corn can never offer.

            Think back to when you were a kid. Making popcorn was a treat. Mom, Dad and the kids (or however your family was made) would pull out the package and place it on the stove. Those old enough to be close to the stove would take turns moving the pan over the flame or burner. At times this was made into a contest to see who could last the longest. I remember trying hard to keep up with my older sisters but they just always seemed to be able to work the pan a little longer than I could but I always enjoyed out time together. First came the crackle sound, and then came the steam. This was usually followed by one of us saying “wow, look at that” just as the first kernels started to erupt with size and flavor (hey, this was pre videogames and HD TV remember). After about 15 minutes from when the fun began, hot buttery popcorn would be poured into a large bowl and devoured. Sticky fingers were the norm.

            Sadly today we tend to be in too much of a rush to think of such simple pleasures. We live in a world where we all hurry up and wait. Family time often gets defined as the time we spend in the car on our way to and from appointments. That is not how it has to be. Look at your schedule, look at your kids. Find things in your schedule that can be removed. Take a break from the fast track and go back to your roots. Spend more time with the kids while you can; they grow up too fast, believe me, mine is now 19 years old.

            Next time you go to the store pick up some Jiffy Pop™ and if anyone wonders why you are going retro on your snacks simply tell them “Doctor’s orders.”
(2-08)

For several months now I have been enjoying writing this column for our newsletter; I enjoy reaching out to those that I may not be able to communicate regularly with. The printed word can have the power to make a change and to make a difference in someone’s day, someone’s life. The printed word can also fall flat like that of the spoken word when no one chooses to listen.

            As parents I am sure you can relate to how it feels when your words seem to float into the abyss, ignored by your children when you are trying to teach them the difference between right and wrong or how to make a better decision. You may find yourself frustrated and wondering if your hard work that appears to be falling on deaf ears is worth it. You may be tempted to throw up your hands and call it a day; who could blame you? If only it was that easy.

            Being a parent is a fulltime lifetime commitment. There are no time outs, no trading players with other teams and no off season. Sure, there are small respites at times when you get a sitter and have a “parents” night or weekend so that you may recharge your batteries, but otherwise, each child carries a great deal of work and a great deal of responsibility. Those with children are also lucky that they have been able to make an impact on the world; they have been able to leave a living legacy. Sadly, too many individuals take this charge lightly and find that they have grown tired of parenting and either walk away or make excuses for why their children are “monsters,” “crazy” or otherwise unreachable. When this happens we have lost a great deal, both as a family but also as a community and as a world.

            We have seen a rise in materialism- the quest to own the latest and greatest electronic gadgets and a decline in the perceived importance of family. More people have blue tooth technology than have family dinner time; more people have iPods, Zunes, game systems and instant messaging than have scheduled family activities. This has lead to a depersonalization of the family and relations in general have suffered.

            I have never been accused of being a fashion plate or technophile. I am a simple man with simple tastes and I remember when people spoke to one another at the gym, on Main Street and in the malls. I remember a time when the only thing hanging on someone’s ear was an earring and if two people were standing next to each other and one of them said something out loud, you could bet that it was because they were speaking to the person next to them. With today’s technology they are just as likely if not more than likely to be talking to someone hands free. Oh, and in case you are wondering, most of us could not care less about what you have to say to the person on the other end of the line. Call me old fashioned, but I have no desire to hear you talk about what you are going to have for supper, what that strange growth that popped up is, or who said what about whom. Hang up already and listen to what the world has to offer, what your kids have to say.

            An old TV show called Frasier had a radio talk show shrink whose tag line was “I’m listening.” Two simple words; no flash, just substance. People often ask me what the most important part of my job is and what separates me from some of the other shrinks; the answer is simple: I listen. As parents, you can reduce the chances that your children will need my services. The best part is that to do this you will not need walls filled of fancy degrees, years of experience or overstuffed leather furniture. You simply need to listen to your children, spend time with them without the distractions of blue tooth, ipod, video games or other technology.

Unplug from the wall and plug into the lives of your children. They will thank you for it and it may save you thousands in therapy bills.
(4-08)

Summer has transitioned into a new school year; a new beginning and a new chance to make a difference. I started my new school year by collecting all my school supplies, something we all must do. I had the pleasure of getting some extra items donated that I could give to clients in need, it makes me feel good inside knowing that I did what I could to help others start the school year right.

Being prepared is important, that is why in addition to the typical school stuff, we also try to make sure they have what they need in order to be able to learn. My mother talks of her school days, back before they had a school lunch program, school busses for people who lived far from school or afterschool programs. She talks of walking from the “gardens” which was the name of her low income neighborhood in Maine, across town which meant either taking the “swinging” bridge (a walking bridge suspended by cables that reminds one of an industrial version of the many bamboo and vine bridges from the jungle movies) or a turn of the century one that offered more stability, up a hill and finally ending at the school. She jokes that where she lived actually required her to “walk up hill both ways” much like Bill Cosby used to joke about. The mountains were small where she lived but they were plentiful.

She made that trek everyday: twice. You see, they did not have free or reduced lunch back then; in fact I am not sure if they had a formal lunch program at all. So she made that trek in the morning before being dismissed for a longish lunch break where she would walk home, eat lunch, wash the dishes and walk back to school. Three seasons a year she made the trip, rain, sleet, snow and frigid weather be darned, she walked.

Today we thankfully have busses for people who live too far away. We also have lunch programs; reduced or free lunches kept me fed when I was in school. They helped my son too when I was still fighting my way to becoming “Doc” Warren. While the “swinging” bridge remains (although it was rebuilt after the major floods in the 1980’s), much has changed for the kids who live on the “gardens.” I am not sure that their stories would sound as hard on the body, though classes remain challenging.

So many things have changed over the years. Slide rules became calculators, walkmans became mp3 players, MTV though still around, has mostly TV and hardly any of the M, but some things remain the same; remain important.

We never know what will have the “big” impact on our children. While it is true that my Mother’s stories of her childhood helped form some of my beliefs and my realities, some of my “big” moments and memories come from times she volunteered either at my school or in the community. I remember fondly the bus ride we took together on a field trip. I can remember some of our conversations on the bus, our activities (especially the time on the giant trampoline) and the ride home. I remember when I was small and my mother either worked or volunteered giving out the free summer lunches to local kids. I was probably five but remember running food out to the big kids, you know, they were probably 8 years old and giant, at least to me at the time. I remember her talking about the importance of making a difference anyway you can. She spoke of how like us, those kids may not have a chance for a meal if not for the programs.

I also remember our trips to “the home” where I met many great people. There was Jimmy who was a dwarf and also mentally retarded. He was so cool, he was an adult (bald head and crow’s feet to prove it) but also my size and he liked the same things I did. We often played together and I learned the power of simply spending time with others. Jimmy had no family to speak of; he was often alone except when we played. Jimmy is long since gone from this earth and I miss him but I am thankful for the time we had together. Jimmy may have also helped me make the decision to dedicate my life to others. You see, while giving to others we learn about ourselves; we learn what is important and what is fluff.

Our children still need pencils, pens and parents. Volunteers can donate school supplies, but nothing can replace what parents have to offer. Mental Health services can help meet the needs of our children but in order to truly make an impact we need you. Parents, now is the time to volunteer to help out your child’s school. Volunteer during the day, help start an after school program, do something to make an impact. Maybe you will bring your child some of the “big” moments that will shape their lives. If not you, then who?

YOUR CHILDREN are counting on you…
(9-08)