cover story Chet Czubko risked his life to rescue a man from a flaming truck after a highway accident. Find out how his faith helped him overcome his fear and become a hero. courage under fire By Bob Horning
	my story Sharonda was young, pregnant and had nowhere to turn. Find out how the Father Pat Jackson House in Ann Arbor helped change life for Sharonda and for her beautiful little boy. the gift of a child By Margaret Ann Cross
	profile What are the decisions that make us who we are? Vic shares his story about the turns in the road that shape our lives. the state of our schools By Rose Robertson
	culture Soup for the soul soup for the soul By Michelle DiFranco
	exclusive We've all heard the expression, "If they can put a man on the moon, why can't they come up with a way to get a sixth-grade boy to tell his mother about his math grade?" smart mom sometimes just leaves son alone By Marybeth Hicks

courage under fire
On his way to work, Chet pulled a man from a burning truck.
By Bob Horning | Photography by Jim Luning

When he noticed the flames, it looked as though they were heading right for him. He pulled off to the right shoulder of the road and called 911, as others were also doing. Chet Czubko, Jr. had been stopped in construction traffic on Interstate-94 near U.S.-127 on his way to work. A glance in his rearview mirror revealed flames behind him filling the morning sky. A huge diesel truck and its trailer had run over a smaller truck that was at the end of the line of traffic. Within minutes, Czubko found himself trying to rescue one of the drivers in the accident that involved several vehicles. This is his description of what happened on Oct. 20, 2003, at 7:20 a.m.

The traffic quickly cleared ahead of me, so I could have gone ahead – but I couldn’t. I had to go see if anyone needed help. As I neared the wreck, the man in the truck that was hit was leaning out the window, looking directly at me, and yelling for help. The inside of his vehicle was burning. I saw two guys unsuccessfully trying to pull him out, and two others use fire extinguishers on him and his truck, to no avail.

I could see the driver’s life ebbing away. It was white hot inside the truck by now. Everyone was giving up, watching helplessly, frustrated at failing to get him out. But I felt like we had to keep trying. When I noticed his door slightly ajar, I yelled for a chain, knowing there had to be one among all those big trucks. The door would have been too hot to touch with my hands. One of the truck drivers ran to get a chain, but to me it was as if he moved in slow motion. Every second was critical. The first time I attempted to throw the chain over the door, I missed. Again, it seemed like I was going so slowly and time was going so fast. The flames leapt out the window and burned my forehead.

“Oh, no. I have to do it again,” I thought to myself. It was so hot. This time the hook went over the door. I reached inside to grab it so I could hook it to the chain. Somehow my hand didn’t burn. I stepped back from the heat to pull the chain. Two men had appeared to help me.

We couldn’t get the door open. We never did. But something else happened. As a result of seeing me still trying, not giving up, two more men came up to try to pull him out. This time it worked. Reflecting back, we think maybe Mr. Titler’s seat belt harness had been holding him in; but now, perhaps, it was melted away. His clothes had burned off from his chest down and his remaining clothes were on fire. He was laid down on the road and the last two fire extinguishers were used on him. I yelled for some water to put on his burns. A woman nearby handed me a wicker basket filled with bottled water. I opened one and attempted to pour it over Mr. Titler, but someone waved me off.

By that time, the rescue driver showed up on eastbound I-94, but he stopped far short of where he was needed. I had to run toward him and get him to come to where Mr. Titler was. The first thing the medical people did was pour water on him to ease the pain.

When the action slowed, I noticed that my head was hot and hurting. I rode in the ambulance, with some of the others who were injured, to Foote Hospital in Jackson. On the way, I called work and said I wouldn’t be in; then I called my wife, Mary Anne.

At the hospital, I began getting chills, so they gave me blankets. My forehead skin was bubbling as my wife walked in. They put salve on it and wrapped my head in bandages. The doctor said I needed to go to the University of Michigan burn unit in Ann Arbor.

Afterward, we picked up my car from the accident site, then went home to Grass Lake. Channel 6 TV in Lansing met me at a local truck stop to interview me. My two boys, Nicholas and C.J., were proud of their dad, especially after they saw me on TV.

The next day I thought I could go to work OK, but when I got there, my face began swelling, causing my eyes to swell shut. Apparently, the body reacts by sending water to the burned areas to help the healing and that caused the swelling. I missed three days of work. Every morning, for two weeks, I had to put new salve and bandages on my head. My forehead eventually grew new skin, and now looks like it did before.

During the rescue, I didn’t even think of being afraid. I was sure the vehicle wouldn’t explode because the gas had already escaped from the tank and was burning off. Everyone asks how I had the presence of mind to think of using a chain. They say most people panic in those situations and can’t think. All I knew at the time was what would happen to Mr. Titler if we did nothing. If it had been me in the truck, I would have wanted help. I keep telling people that I’m not the one who pulled Mr. Titler out. What I did do was try once more, give one more spark of hope when everyone had given up. I am proud of what I did in that it spurred others on. Otherwise, he would have died right there. The one thing it taught me was “don’t ever think there’s nothing you can do.”

Being raised Catholic, I have a concern for life. Life is precious. I will do what I can to preserve it. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t afraid — I know Someone will take care of me.

Mr. Titler had burns on 75 percent of his body, and, over time, they tried numerous skin grafts. He died eight months later in the intensive care unit at UM Hospital.

The hardest thing for me was all of the recognition. Fr. Tom Smith of our parish, Our Lady of Fatima in Michigan Center, mentioned in his homily about the firefighter heroes in California at the time. Then he said that we have our own hero in our parish – our organist. They gave me a standing ovation. I’m not used to that. It makes me feel uneasy to be called a hero. I’m still Chet Czubko. And every time I would see Mr. Titler’s mother, she called me her angel.

During the rescue, I can’t say I felt God’s presence exactly, but what I did feel was something that he brought about – a sense of community – a bunch of truck drivers, construction workers, and myself – an accountant, who had never met, coming together to do something outstanding. It was a unique feeling. There was a bond. As my wife noted, she was not only proud of me and impressed that I was so levelheaded, but also with the courage we all had working together as a team.

In the time since the accident, I continue to understand more the preciousness of life. You don’t know when it could end. Mr. Titler was on his way to work just as I was. Another minute and it could have been me. Time with my family seems more important now.

Would I do it again? Absolutely.

Chet’s story was shared in several local newspapers. Likewise, he received the American Red Cross “Everyday Hero” award, the Jackson County Citizen Award, and a State of Michigan Special Tribute, signed by legislators and the governor.

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BeFrienders Ministry is a program of lay pastoral care found in many parishes. If you are grieving or need a listening ear, check with your parish to see if there is a BeFrienders group available. If you feel called to volunteer for this caring ministry, call your parish’s BeFrienders representative.

the gift of a child
how Father Pat Jackson House
helped Sharonda turn trouble to joy
By Margaret Ann Cross | Photography by Christine Jones

Sharonda Purnell sits on the floor in her apartment and pulls open a cardboard box of food dropped off by her church. Sifting through its contents, she hands her 3-year-old son, Traye, the butter and other items that need to go into the refrigerator. Traye, who’s middle name, Iniko, means “born during troubled times” in Swahili, puts them away and comes back to snuggle on his mom’s lap.

“I have a lot of support,” says Sharonda, 20, a single mother who counts on a wide group of friends and family to help her manage a busy life. Her days include working as a caregiver in an intensive care unit at the University of Michigan Health System and – when she can fit it in without taking too many hours away from her son – pursuing a nursing degree. All in all, it’s a long way from the troubled times of a few years ago, when she became pregnant at 17.

Life then had slipped out of control, Sharonda remembers.

Raised by her grandmother, Sharonda grew up in Delaware. Her mother arrived when Sharonda was 13 to take her to Michigan. She settled into her new life, earning good grades, playing basketball and making plans to become a pediatrician someday. She participated in summer science programs at the University of Michigan and apprenticed at a health center in Ypsilanti.

Still, she missed her grandmother and her old friends. And she couldn’t forgive her mother for leaving her when she was young, so they argued constantly. Then her stepfather made Sharonda quit the basketball team when he found her smoking.

“It was too much,” she says. “I left home on my 17th birthday, Thanksgiving night. The first semester of my senior year was all a blur.”

She continued to go to school, but she moved from couch to couch and smoked marijuana and drank alcohol every day. Her grades fell.

In the midst of the turmoil, she learned she was going to have a baby. “I said to God, ‘This, too?’”

Yet Sharonda stopped drinking and smoking as soon as she found out. At first, she moved in with her boyfriend, who was several years older than she was, and his mother. But, now sober, she realized she needed a different environment for herself and her child. She applied to the Father Patrick Jackson House in Ann Arbor, an organization that houses teenage mothers and provides a range of services to help them build solid lives.

Father Pat’s asks much of teens. They are required to go to school, work during the summer, save a percentage of the money they earn, and care for their children independently. Preparing meals and finding child care, for example, are their own responsibility, says program supervisor Christina Rivest.

A staff member is always on the premises, and rules abound. Everyone has chores to complete, and curfew is at 10 p.m. “For many of the girls who come here, it’s more stability than they’ve ever had before,” Christina says.

For Sharonda, it was a refuge. “Moving into Father Pat’s gave me a way to get myself together for my baby, and it kept me away from the things I didn’t need to be around,” she says. “I needed to establish myself.”

She spent her days in school or at work – “I always tell Traye he graduated from high school with me,” she says – and spent some nights in her room crying. She began to understand that God had been good to her, she says. “I don’t know where I would be if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, maybe killed in a car accident. Before, I had been high all of the time, trying to forget my problems.”

Committed staff members at Father Pat’s, such as Helen Criglar, helped her through the early days. “Miss Helen told me, ‘You aren’t a dummy. You are going to do something with your life,’” Sharonda says. “I knew that. I knew that this was just the beginning, not an end.”

Real clarity hit on Sept. 20, 2002, the day Traye was born. Sharonda says, “I knew what I had to do. I knew God was telling me that I had been messing up for too long, but he had forgiven me and it was time to move on. I don’t have any regrets. Today, my only, ‘What if?’ is, ‘What if I had had an abortion?’ I can’t imagine it. Really, I didn’t have to make a choice about whether to keep Traye because you can’t pick and choose what God gives you. Traye is everything to me. I never would have made it without him.”

Sharonda spent nearly two years at Father Pat’s. She went to educational sessions that the program offered on budgeting, signing leases and other practical topics, some of them taught by law school students. And she took parenting classes, everything from baby massage class to how to communicate with children. “I was yelled at as a child, but I learned that you need to talk to them,” Sharonda says.

Sharonda and the other residents relied on one another at Father Pat’s, too. She watched babies while her friends went out, and they watched Traye when she worked double shifts at Glacier Hills Retirement Community. She saw from other young moms that kids needed boundaries and that you need to spend quality time with them. She still keeps in touch with some of the moms – and still baby-sits their kids when she can.

When Sharonda moved into her own apartment, she was happy to shake some of the rules of Father Pat’s. She’d stand on the balcony at 10:01 p.m. just because she could. She says she’s come this far, though, in part because of all she gained from the program.

Her goal has changed from becoming a pediatrician to becoming a registered nurse, and she’s happy with her decision. Her job at the University of Michigan challenges her every day. “It’s fast-paced and difficult. I love it. I’m a caregiver at heart.”

Being a single mom will never be easy, she says. But friends and family help. Traye’s grandparents on both sides adore him – and she gets strength and support from her church family at Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Ann Arbor.

“I have come a long way, but I still have so much more to go,” Sharonda says. “It’s very tight financially, but Traye’s so young, he doesn’t know we’re struggling. He just knows that his mom rolls around on the floor and plays with him.”

Her son’s middle name means “born during troubled times,” she points out, not “living them.”

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What is Father Pat Jackson House?

Established in 1984 and now a division of Catholic Social Services of Washtenaw County, Father Pat’s is located in a house in an Ann Arbor neighborhood. The non-denominational program offers a home to up to five girls and their children at a time – most from Ann Arbor and surrounding counties, but others from throughout Michigan and nearby states. Each girl gets a bedroom, which includes a crib, and they share common areas such as the living room and kitchen. Many teens who stay at Father Pat’s plan to keep their children, though some opt for adoption. Most of them are in contact with their families, and their parents or guardians are required to sign them into the program. For more information or to find out how you can help, call 734.971.9781.

Vic Lopez took on the KKK
and won a town’s appreciation
By Rose Robertson | Photography by Tom Gennara


What are the decisions that make us who we are? Community activist Vic Lopez was named the Howell Citizen of the Year – in large part because of the stand he took against racism in his hometown. Vic shares his story about the turns in the road that shape our lives.

I have lived in Howell for 31 years. When I first moved here, it immediately felt like home. I worked for UPS then and turned down a transfer because we liked it so much. When you turn down transfers, you don’t progress. So after a few years, my wife and I started a retail business. I got involved in a group that eventually became a full-time chamber of commerce. With that group, I helped co-found the annual Michigan Challenge Balloon Fest and the annual Festival of Lights Parade.

What I am most proud of, though, is my involvement in establishing the Livingston 2001 Diversity Council. This council formed in 1988 after we had an actual cross-burning in Howell. That cross-burning was another life-changing event for me. I wouldn’t think something like that would ever happen today. It was very disgusting and the biggest injustice I ever saw. Our primary goal, in forming Livingston 2001, was to be a low-profile group that worked to provide education and programs to teach diversity by the year the kindergartners of ’88 would graduate, which would be 2001. I think we’ve done a lot of good over the last 16 years.

That was why when a Klu Klux Klan robe was put up for auction and displayed in a storefront window, I got involved. We worked so hard to eliminate the negative image of Howell being racist, and then suddenly there’s a KKK robe in a window on our main street. That surprised me – shocked me actually – and it sent the wrong message. I thought we had come further than that. So instead of just sitting back, sticking the issue under the rug and hoping it would go away, we took a stand. That storeowner is a business person and has the right to sell his product, but he’s still a corporate member and has a responsibility to our community. All retail has a responsibility to do good for the community and this was not something good. I want everyone to understand that the good people of this community do not promote racism.

The Klu Klux Klan did come to town about 10 years ago and they put on quite a demonstration. If the Diversity Council had not been in existence, we wouldn’t have known how to handle it. We tried to make it a non-event and encouraged people to stay away. We hung ribbons on trees as a sign of peace and held a candlelight vigil the night before. I have no idea why the Klan chose Howell, but their leader stood on the steps and screamed hateful things against everybody. They left, not making an impression on anyone in Howell, because no one really showed up to watch it. I cannot begin to imagine how different the outcome would have been had the Diversity Council not been in place to prepare our community.

I have seen so much love and justice within our Diversity Council and in other places because of it. This group of people discusses value issues and what we can do to improve our community in that regard. There are other committees in town that work to improve the community, but the Diversity Council is more about moral issues; they seek justice. They have no other reason to be there. Theirs is a work of love based on convictions that are just beautiful.

I have always believed people to be good and that there are more good people than bad people. People are where we find hope. If you ask them to do things, they’ll respond. I think most people are just waiting to be personally invited to get involved. But if you don’t ask, they’ll just go on with their personal lives. So I get up every day and ask myself what I can do to make someone else feel good. That is why I enjoy volunteering. It gives me a chance to do something good for my community. As a business person, I think I should give something back.

It is a joy to work with the people in Howell who have become my family. There are so many who work hard to make this a great town, which was why I was so surprised when I got the Citizen of the Year award. I am very proud of my award, which has probably been the highlight of my professional career.

I always hoped that no matter how small it would be, my life would make a difference. There have been times I said I should have stayed with UPS, because I could have retired 10 years ago. But if I had, I wouldn’t be at this spot in life right now.

When I die, I hope God will say that I did a good job on earth and that for whatever reason he put me here, I hope I fulfilled his wishes.

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Catholic social teaching – what does it tell us?

A great crowd had followed Jesus and the Apostles to the mountains. Knowing the crowd was hungry, Jesus asked Philip about getting food for them all. Philip answered that they had not enough money to buy food for everyone. Andrew spoke up and said, “There is a young boy here who has five barley loaves and two fishes ...” Jesus took the loaves and fishes, blessed them and fed the multitude with 12 baskets left over.

This event tells us a great deal. The boy who offered his five loaves and two fishes saw what can happen when we give all we have to Jesus. The multitude was fed with this boy’s generosity; and what happened to the 12 baskets left over? Don’t be surprised if the boy received his bread and fish back – and more! But that is not the end of the story.

Jesus goes on to tell us what it really means to feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty. A few verses later, Jesus gives the discourse on the Eucharist. He tells the crowd, “Do not labor for the food that perishes, but for that which endures unto life everlasting” He continued, “I am the Bread of Life. You who come to me shall not hunger, and you who believe in me shall never thirst.”

It is good to feed those who are hungry and give drink to those who are thirsty; we call that a corporal work of mercy. But, to satisfy the more profound hunger and thirst; to quench spiritual dryness and alleviate spiritual emaciation, we are also called to spiritual works of mercy. These include praying for the living and the dead, converting sinners, instructing the ignorant and counseling the doubtful, comforting the sorrowful, bearing wrongs patiently and forgiving those who have wronged us. We can begin by inviting our friends and family to join us at Mass. When we offer ourselves at Mass, as the boy offered his bread and fishes on the mountain, we will not be left wanting, but will be filled with sanctifying grace – and more!

The corporal and spiritual works of mercy provide us with the lens though which we should examine Catholic social teaching. Without spiritual works of mercy, we can swerve into secular humanism, and to neglect the corporal works of mercy is a denial of the sacredness of the incarnation, when Jesus became fully human.
–Vince Gale, Diocese of Lansing Department of Catholic Charities

soup
for the soul
Michelle DiFranco | Photography by Joe Vaughan

Let’s face it. We have all experienced times when we’ve been mid-burger at the fast-food drive-thru and suddenly remember that it’s both Friday and Lent. We think, “Oops!” and either toss it out the window or continue eating it in guilt and promise God it will never happen again.

The Lenten customs of fasting, prayer and almsgiving are a challenge. The fasting part, especially, since we live in a society where self-discipline is lacking and we’re constantly being bombarded with distractions. I gotta tell you – I was pretty distracted the Friday I bit into that cheeseburger at the drive-thru.

But what if we changed our perspective a little? What if we substituted the word “simplicity” for “fasting?” Fasting is about giving something up, but it boils down to living with less and giving more. Fasting is merely accepting what we need rather than what we want and thus living more simply. It is ironic that “simplicity” should be difficult. But in a culture that tells us we can have it all, living simply is quite hard. Here is something that can help.

I’ve always thought that soup is a good thing to have around during Lent. Soup itself is a very simple meal and a true time-saver for those of us who – well – just don’t have the extra time. The fact that it is simple can also serve as a reminder of what the church calls us to do: to take a look at our lives to see how we can live with less and give more to God. It forces us to think of those who don’t have a lot to eat and, in turn, creates an inner hunger for a closeness to God.

My favorite is the standard chicken noodle soup. Problem is, we can’t have it on Fridays during Lent. So, why not chicken noodle soup sans the chicken? Here is a recipe that puts a unique spin on the standard noodle soup. It is very quickly made, which means you won’t have to resort to the fast-food drive thru to save time (along with the possibility of screwing up your Lenten promises).

Whether you give some to a Catholic friend or stock up your own pantry for the Lenten season, this simple soup mix can help us stay on the task of being disciplined to please God.

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Bowtie Soup Mix
• 3 cups of bowtie pasta (farfalle)
• 3 1⁄2 tablespoons instant vegetable bouillon
• 2 tablespoons of dried minced onion
• 1 tablespoon dried parsley flakes
• 1 teaspoon dried thyme
• 1 1-lb clear cellophane bag (can be purchased inexpensively online or at a candy-making supply shop)

In a clear cellophane bag, layer the bowtie pasta with the dried herbs and bouillion in between. To give as a gift, tie bag with raffia or ribbon to add a decorative touch. On your package of dried soup mix, add these simple directions:

Bowtie Soup
In a large pot, bring 10 cups of water to a rapid boil. Add contents of bag, 1⁄2 cup chopped carrots and 1⁄2 cup chopped celery. Reduce heat and boil (stirring occasionally) until vegetables and pasta are tender. (approximately 20 minutes). Top off with croutons or parmesan cheese for extra flavor.