Tony P. IL.
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Sick children get day in sunshine
By Bonnie Miller Rubin
Before the plane to Florida had even touched down, one passenger had already shot an entire roll of film.
"You mean there's more rides?" the boy asked incredulously.
There were. With about 100 other chronically ill children from the Chicago area, he was about to spend a whirlwind day at Disney World.
Though hundreds of flights took off from O'Hare International Airport Tuesday, it is safe bet that only this one carried passengers excited about airline food or elicited a collective "oooh" as the aircraft climbed above the clouds.
The annual trip is sponsored by the Sunshine Foundation, a philanthropic organization founded by a former Philadelphia police officer and a Roselle-based giftware company. Many of the students--picked from nine schools--had rarely ventured far from home.
For most people, a 16-hour Disney day would be an exhausting prospect. But add dozens of wheelchairs and the myriad health considerations that go into transporting physically and mentally disabled children, and it takes a small army of volunteers.
The day started at 6 a.m., when Chicago police and firefighters at O'Hare carried the kids on board. It continued in Orlando, where other people waited to accompany them to the Magic Kingdom. And it ended past bedtime, when a fresh crew of emergency personnel lifted the sleepy travelers out of their seats and onto buses bound for home.
Gloria Spanjers of Winter Haven, Fla., was one of the designated wheelchair-pushers waiting curbside to meet the flight.
"We get 10 times more back then we give," she said. "I've seen grown men get teary when they have to say goodbye." Not only has she recruited her husband for the task, but many neighbors as well. "Once they've done it, they're mine for life."
But the real heroes are the teachers. They are in perpetual motion, changing youngsters' wintry woolens midflight to T-shirts and shorts, hauling wheelchairs onto the "Pirates of the Caribbean" ride, lifting their young charges onto Dumbo or Aladdin's carpet and comforting them when even a G-rated ride is too scary.
"It's tiring . . . but you get so much back from the kids, many of whom will never get another opportunity like this," said Elena Savoy, principal of Wildwood School on the city's Northwest Side. Her students' disabilities--Down syndrome, spina bifida, cerebral palsy, cognitive impairments--are typical of the entire delegation.
Following such a draining workday, some employees might get to sleep in, but there's no such luxury in special education. "They'll all be in school tomorrow because they're so excited . . . they can't wait to talk about it with their friends," said Judy Del Marto, a teacher at Hanson Park Elementary School, also on the Northwest Side.
Del Marto accompanied her first group--70 students--in 1996 and hasn't missed an airlift since, bringing a new group of kids each time. One student who already made the trip told a fellow classmate: "Kiss Mickey for me."
The story of Sunshine Foundation started with Bill Sample, a police officer who was assigned to a beat at a Philadelphia children's hospital. "All these seriously ill children had dreams that would just never happen," said Sample. "I wanted to change that."
Ron Jedlinski, president and CEO of Roman Inc., a Roselle-based manufacturer of giftware items with inspirational themes, got involved with the Sunshine Foundation in 1996. The entrepreneur was drawn to the organization's low administrative costs [10 percent] and the fact that "there weren't a lot of rules," he said.
The foundation and Roman Inc. picked up the entire tab for the Disney excursion, which runs about $50,000 for the day. Admission to Magic Kingdom alone runs about $5,000. The benefactors also threw in $10 spending money for each child, although most parents send additional cash.
Since 1976, the foundation has granted more than 28,000 dreams to children--and not just terminally ill kids, but those that are chronically ill, too. "It's not up to us to play God," Sample said.
By far, the most popular wish is for Disney World, but, over the years, he has fielded requests for everything from computers to air conditioning. A chance to rub elbows with a favorite celebrity or athlete also ranks high with kids.
Like many charities, Sunshine saw a steep decline in donations after Sept. 11, 2001. The requests, however, show no sign of abating, with about 350 children currently waiting to have a dream come true.
But such pragmatic concerns evaporated for a moment as the plane approached O'Hare and Sample pulled out one last surprise from his bag of tricks: nine dozen pairs of Mickey Mouse "ears"--a final souvenir of a memorable day.
"Why give money away?" he asked rhetorically, beaming at the sleepy passengers. "Why not?"
Copyright 2002 Chicago Tribune
By Bonnie Miller Rubin
Before the plane to Florida had even touched down, one passenger had already shot an entire roll of film.
"You mean there's more rides?" the boy asked incredulously.
There were. With about 100 other chronically ill children from the Chicago area, he was about to spend a whirlwind day at Disney World.
Though hundreds of flights took off from O'Hare International Airport Tuesday, it is safe bet that only this one carried passengers excited about airline food or elicited a collective "oooh" as the aircraft climbed above the clouds.
The annual trip is sponsored by the Sunshine Foundation, a philanthropic organization founded by a former Philadelphia police officer and a Roselle-based giftware company. Many of the students--picked from nine schools--had rarely ventured far from home.
For most people, a 16-hour Disney day would be an exhausting prospect. But add dozens of wheelchairs and the myriad health considerations that go into transporting physically and mentally disabled children, and it takes a small army of volunteers.
The day started at 6 a.m., when Chicago police and firefighters at O'Hare carried the kids on board. It continued in Orlando, where other people waited to accompany them to the Magic Kingdom. And it ended past bedtime, when a fresh crew of emergency personnel lifted the sleepy travelers out of their seats and onto buses bound for home.
Gloria Spanjers of Winter Haven, Fla., was one of the designated wheelchair-pushers waiting curbside to meet the flight.
"We get 10 times more back then we give," she said. "I've seen grown men get teary when they have to say goodbye." Not only has she recruited her husband for the task, but many neighbors as well. "Once they've done it, they're mine for life."
But the real heroes are the teachers. They are in perpetual motion, changing youngsters' wintry woolens midflight to T-shirts and shorts, hauling wheelchairs onto the "Pirates of the Caribbean" ride, lifting their young charges onto Dumbo or Aladdin's carpet and comforting them when even a G-rated ride is too scary.
"It's tiring . . . but you get so much back from the kids, many of whom will never get another opportunity like this," said Elena Savoy, principal of Wildwood School on the city's Northwest Side. Her students' disabilities--Down syndrome, spina bifida, cerebral palsy, cognitive impairments--are typical of the entire delegation.
Following such a draining workday, some employees might get to sleep in, but there's no such luxury in special education. "They'll all be in school tomorrow because they're so excited . . . they can't wait to talk about it with their friends," said Judy Del Marto, a teacher at Hanson Park Elementary School, also on the Northwest Side.
Del Marto accompanied her first group--70 students--in 1996 and hasn't missed an airlift since, bringing a new group of kids each time. One student who already made the trip told a fellow classmate: "Kiss Mickey for me."
The story of Sunshine Foundation started with Bill Sample, a police officer who was assigned to a beat at a Philadelphia children's hospital. "All these seriously ill children had dreams that would just never happen," said Sample. "I wanted to change that."
Ron Jedlinski, president and CEO of Roman Inc., a Roselle-based manufacturer of giftware items with inspirational themes, got involved with the Sunshine Foundation in 1996. The entrepreneur was drawn to the organization's low administrative costs [10 percent] and the fact that "there weren't a lot of rules," he said.
The foundation and Roman Inc. picked up the entire tab for the Disney excursion, which runs about $50,000 for the day. Admission to Magic Kingdom alone runs about $5,000. The benefactors also threw in $10 spending money for each child, although most parents send additional cash.
Since 1976, the foundation has granted more than 28,000 dreams to children--and not just terminally ill kids, but those that are chronically ill, too. "It's not up to us to play God," Sample said.
By far, the most popular wish is for Disney World, but, over the years, he has fielded requests for everything from computers to air conditioning. A chance to rub elbows with a favorite celebrity or athlete also ranks high with kids.
Like many charities, Sunshine saw a steep decline in donations after Sept. 11, 2001. The requests, however, show no sign of abating, with about 350 children currently waiting to have a dream come true.
But such pragmatic concerns evaporated for a moment as the plane approached O'Hare and Sample pulled out one last surprise from his bag of tricks: nine dozen pairs of Mickey Mouse "ears"--a final souvenir of a memorable day.
"Why give money away?" he asked rhetorically, beaming at the sleepy passengers. "Why not?"
Copyright 2002 Chicago Tribune
