For all of you who appreciated "Everyone Loves Donuts", I thought you might like to know my friend died this morning.

From the The Tallahassee Democrat:


Budd Bell, the unsung hero of Florida, dies at 94
by Gerald Ensley • DEMOCRAT SENIOR WRITER • October 16, 2009

Budd Bell, the Tallahassee resident who became nationally famous as an indomitable champion of children and the downtrodden, died Friday morning.

Bell, 94, had been in declining health for three years and died at Big Bend Hospice.
Bell, a native of Canada, moved to Tallahassee in 1969 with her late husband, Florida State professor and gerontology expert William Bell. She had been the chief of social work at a Masschusetts hospital.

When Bell discovered Florida was not taking advantage of federal dollars available for public child care, she started lobbying the state about the issue -- which kicked off a nearly 40-year career of being at the forefront of local, state and national issues related to children, families, the disable, elderly and poor.

In 1972, she founded Kids Incorporated of the Big Bend, which aids children and families in three counties. In 1974, she founded the Clearinghouse on Human Services, an advocacy coaltion that now encompasses 200 organizations. .She helped legislators craft the Baker Act, which protects the rights of those with mental illness.

“I believe...

“One moment in Yellowstone can last a lifetime” said the park service employee in the PBS program on our National Parks, as he spoke of his experiences in Yellowstone National Park.

Listening, I was transported back to the moment I will never forget in Yellowstone. It was at the Old Faithful site and I was completely mesmerized by the energy of the geyser; the colors, the smells and the sounds as the water flume spouted upwards just as it has for years and years, and the mud gurgled at my feet. It was, and is, a primordial scene.

As usual, I had my camera in hand and was absorbed in catching the amazing moments on film. Crouched on the boardwalk, on my knees to get closer to the mud bubbling a foot away, I was oblivious to all except what I could see through my camera lens.

When suddenly, some ancient instinct from deep within me, said, “Look up” and when I did, I was terrified: for coming toward me, on the very boardwalk where I crouched, was the biggest animal I had ever seen that close. One of the bison so prevalent in Yellowstone was headed right toward me. Immediately, the warning the park ranger had given me earlier came screaming back: “they run fast and they get up to speed quickly; they weigh over 2,000 pounds; stay clear of them and do not startle them—whatever you do, do not run from them.” My heart seemed to stop for an instant as the beautiful animal lumbered toward me....

It happened again last week. There I was, driving down an almost empty highway, enjoying the beauty of the trees and the setting sun, when suddenly the voice was there whispering “slow down, change lanes”.

Immediately, I hit my brakes and moved over into the fast lane. I had just straightened my wheels, when it happened: The pick-up truck that had been two car lengths ahead of me lost the metal ladders that were in the open bed of the truck and with no tailgate to stop them; they flew in slow motion toward the front of my car.

Braking quickly and swerving slightly, I managed to avoid them…just barely. It was only when I let myself breath again that I realized I had been holding my breath and I thought: This has happened to me so many times.

The first time was 40 years ago. My husband and I had been for a weekend visit with my parents who lived two hours from us. It was a trip we made often—and almost always we stopped at a little ice cream shop about half way home for an ice cream cone and to stretch our legs. In those days I drove a Volkswagen Bug and an hour was about all our long legs could take in that small car. That Sunday afternoon I was driving and when we got near the ice cream store, I asked my husband if he wanted to stop – he said no, he really didn’t and I agreed I was doing okay too. As I drove down a hillside, I noticed a tractor-trailer pulling onto the highway just beyond the ice cream store; I glanced...

She will be 93 this month and her family and friends who love her will throw a party. But she won’t be there.
There will be cake and ice cream and presents and well wishers from near and far. There will be a guest of honor, but she won’t be there.

She won’t be there because my friend and colleague, and “stand-in" Mom, went away a few years ago. She did not tell any of us where she was going; she did not pack a bag; or buy an airline ticket. She was simply there one day and then she wasn’t.

My friend was a brilliant activist; she spent her early years in the cold land of Winnipeg, and then after marrying the love of her life, they moved to Colorado, and California, and Kansas, and finally to Florida. After a lifetime of psychiatric social work, she decided to “retire” and see what she could do about helping those less fortunate than she. At the age of 50 she became a full time volunteer and set about to find justice for the children, the working poor, and those who had no voice. She was never paid in money, but her salary was huge.

Singlehandedly, she organized Florida’s human services apparatus and in the process touched thousands of lives. She made a difference with a kind of determination that is rare in today’s world. When Florida lawmakers would not fund a budget for children, she held a bake sale in the Rotunda of the Capitol and raised the money one muffin...

Recently, I have spent a lot of time asking myself: what am I doing with my life to make our world a better place? Am I doing as much as I can during these difficult economic times to share with others, to make a positive difference – every day? Do the things I spend my time doing really matter? What more can I do?

Many things have run through my mind as possibilities. Some of them I have done; others I am still contemplating. I listen to stories of restaurant owners who are offering food for “whatever someone can pay” or bartering a meal in exchange for some work. I hear of the man who donated skates to neighborhood children and then took them skating, only to discover that first he had to teach some of them to skate.

I am speechless hearing of the five year old girl in Miramar Beach who jumped into a swimming pool to rescue a baby, saving the baby from drowning. I watched the news coverage of D-Day with tears in my eyes thinking of the young men who died on those beaches…thinking of my own Father who suffered horribly as his unit fought to take and hold Italy.

I grew up being awakened by his cries from the nightmares, and many nights watched him sit on our front porch in the darkness waiting for dawn, because going back to sleep was too painful for him, and he did not want to frighten his children again with the horror of his dreams. And, then, after being awake much of the night, he would get dressed and go out to...