thedrifter
03-04-09, 07:41 AM
March 4, 2009
Program to veterans' rescue
Linda Leicht
News-Leader
When Rita Spilken's phone rings, the voice on the other end is likely to be a stranger who once served the country and now needs help.
Spilken, a clinical psychologist, started the Our House Foundation four years ago to help wounded warriors returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Since putting the organization's listing in the phone book, she's been deluged with calls.
She showed a handwritten log of more than 60 calls from people with needs ranging from financial help to suicide prevention.
Spilken listens to them explain the problem. Then, she uses her training to assure the caller someone cares and will help. But instead of sending them back to their phone, she makes the necessary calls to find the right organization to provide that help.
Soon, sometimes within hours, veterans will get a call from an agency offering assistance they might not have found on their own.
Quick assistance
When Rebecca Dewey, a Marine Corps major and single mother of three, dialed the Our House number, she had been turned down by every other organization she called.
Then Spilken answered.
"I felt like there might be some hope for me," said Dewey .
Spilken connected Dewey with the American Red Cross, which has a donation-based program that provided the money she needed to pay her rent.
"I got a check in my hand to give my landlord, even the late fees," said Dewey.
When Doyle "Lonnie" Childs died unexpectedly at 61 years old on Thanksgiving Day, his family had no money for a burial.
Son-in-law James Fisher of Conway began calling veterans organizations, sure they would help to bury the man who was so proud to be a Marine and active in so many of those organizations.
"I got all kinds of different ways of telling me no," said Fisher.
Our House Foundation was the last number he called.
Spilken answered. Immediately, she connected the family with the Military Order of the Purple Heart, which helped pay the expenses and arrange a military burial in the Missouri Veterans Cemetery.
Vision of volunteers
The goal of Our House Foundation is to build a transitional community in the Ozarks for wounded veterans to receive medical and psychological help, counseling for them and family members, rest, care and time to recover.
But the ringing phone has led Spilken to add the "warm line" service she calls "A Hand Up, Not a Hand Out."
The fledgling organization started on Spilken's dream and is being carried forward by the vision of volunteers, including Randy Thomas, senior vice commander of the Springfield chapter of the Order of the Purple Heart.
Thomas, who only learned about Our House after Spilken called him with the story of Lonnie Childs, is now helping get the word out. A Vietnam veteran who served as crew chief and gunner on a helicopter gunship , he was hit by small-arms fire on one of his missions.
Now his mission is to "help combat-wounded veterans." Our House is a perfect collaborator in that mission.
Meeting with the Childs family, he learned that Lonnie was only a teenager when he was hit in the head by a mortar shell on Oct. 5, 1967. He had permanent brain damage and his face always carried the disfiguring scars.
But Lonnie was a fun-loving man who never regretted his military service. He joined every veterans group he could, including the OPH just a few months before his death. His family didn't even know it.
Son Matthew, 26, heard most of his dad's stories about the war, including the day he was injured.
Lonnie had been standing by a bunker with two other Marines when the shelling hit. He threw the two Marines into the bunker to protect them.
He was put on a naval ship for treatment, but his parents thought he was dead, as Matthew told the story. "He was in I Company, the Third Division of the Flaming I."
Thomas, who helped secure a case for the flag Bonnie received at the funeral, thanked the family for their stories about Lonnie.
"His story makes us appreciate you even more," he said.
"You would have liked him," said Lonnie's wife, Bonnie, with a grin. "He was a corker."
The military funeral and the new marker on Lonnie's grave made the family proud, she said. But none of it would have happened "if it wasn't for Dr. Rita."
Tears of a Marine
When Dewey was leading her platoon of Marines through the desert of Iraq, she believed they were in a neutral zone. An ambush found her and her platoon in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy.
An Iraqi stabbed her 11 times before the ambushers were defeated.
"Two of my Marines took the shirts off their backs to make a tourniquet. Others took off their socks ... and shredded them to stick into the holes to stop the bleeding," she said. They walked miles before she was airlifted to safety and medical treatment.
"My Marines helped me the whole way on my adventure," said Dewey, who mustered out of the Marines in 2003 as a major.
Hardened by her training and experience, Dewey came home to a broken marriage and difficult financial times.
Since then, she said, she developed cancer, as has about half of her platoon.
She left her home in Indiana to find work in Springfield last summer.
Despite her eight years of active military service, several college degrees and experience in accounting and bookkeeping, finding and keeping a job has been difficult.
She and her children once lived in her car before she was able to find a landlord who would allow her to move in with credit troubles.
So, when she lost her job and then didn't get her full child- support check in February, she knew she was facing homelessness again.
"I was so desperate at that point," she said.
She called nearly every agency on a list provided by a social worker but kept getting denied.
"I was in tears," she said. "Marines don't cry, but I cried."
She began packing, knowing that she would be evicted.
But the piece of paper had one more phone number .
She picked up her phone and called it, expecting another rejection.
Spilken answered.
Today, Dewey is looking for work but is ready to use her spare time to volunteer for Our House .
"I think her organization is one of the best around," said Dewey. " There are lots of veterans who can't get help. We are just thrown by the wayside."
Additional Facts
"I was in tears. Marines don't cry, but I cried."
-- Maj. Rebecca Dewey
Ellie
Program to veterans' rescue
Linda Leicht
News-Leader
When Rita Spilken's phone rings, the voice on the other end is likely to be a stranger who once served the country and now needs help.
Spilken, a clinical psychologist, started the Our House Foundation four years ago to help wounded warriors returning from Iraq and Afghanistan. Since putting the organization's listing in the phone book, she's been deluged with calls.
She showed a handwritten log of more than 60 calls from people with needs ranging from financial help to suicide prevention.
Spilken listens to them explain the problem. Then, she uses her training to assure the caller someone cares and will help. But instead of sending them back to their phone, she makes the necessary calls to find the right organization to provide that help.
Soon, sometimes within hours, veterans will get a call from an agency offering assistance they might not have found on their own.
Quick assistance
When Rebecca Dewey, a Marine Corps major and single mother of three, dialed the Our House number, she had been turned down by every other organization she called.
Then Spilken answered.
"I felt like there might be some hope for me," said Dewey .
Spilken connected Dewey with the American Red Cross, which has a donation-based program that provided the money she needed to pay her rent.
"I got a check in my hand to give my landlord, even the late fees," said Dewey.
When Doyle "Lonnie" Childs died unexpectedly at 61 years old on Thanksgiving Day, his family had no money for a burial.
Son-in-law James Fisher of Conway began calling veterans organizations, sure they would help to bury the man who was so proud to be a Marine and active in so many of those organizations.
"I got all kinds of different ways of telling me no," said Fisher.
Our House Foundation was the last number he called.
Spilken answered. Immediately, she connected the family with the Military Order of the Purple Heart, which helped pay the expenses and arrange a military burial in the Missouri Veterans Cemetery.
Vision of volunteers
The goal of Our House Foundation is to build a transitional community in the Ozarks for wounded veterans to receive medical and psychological help, counseling for them and family members, rest, care and time to recover.
But the ringing phone has led Spilken to add the "warm line" service she calls "A Hand Up, Not a Hand Out."
The fledgling organization started on Spilken's dream and is being carried forward by the vision of volunteers, including Randy Thomas, senior vice commander of the Springfield chapter of the Order of the Purple Heart.
Thomas, who only learned about Our House after Spilken called him with the story of Lonnie Childs, is now helping get the word out. A Vietnam veteran who served as crew chief and gunner on a helicopter gunship , he was hit by small-arms fire on one of his missions.
Now his mission is to "help combat-wounded veterans." Our House is a perfect collaborator in that mission.
Meeting with the Childs family, he learned that Lonnie was only a teenager when he was hit in the head by a mortar shell on Oct. 5, 1967. He had permanent brain damage and his face always carried the disfiguring scars.
But Lonnie was a fun-loving man who never regretted his military service. He joined every veterans group he could, including the OPH just a few months before his death. His family didn't even know it.
Son Matthew, 26, heard most of his dad's stories about the war, including the day he was injured.
Lonnie had been standing by a bunker with two other Marines when the shelling hit. He threw the two Marines into the bunker to protect them.
He was put on a naval ship for treatment, but his parents thought he was dead, as Matthew told the story. "He was in I Company, the Third Division of the Flaming I."
Thomas, who helped secure a case for the flag Bonnie received at the funeral, thanked the family for their stories about Lonnie.
"His story makes us appreciate you even more," he said.
"You would have liked him," said Lonnie's wife, Bonnie, with a grin. "He was a corker."
The military funeral and the new marker on Lonnie's grave made the family proud, she said. But none of it would have happened "if it wasn't for Dr. Rita."
Tears of a Marine
When Dewey was leading her platoon of Marines through the desert of Iraq, she believed they were in a neutral zone. An ambush found her and her platoon in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy.
An Iraqi stabbed her 11 times before the ambushers were defeated.
"Two of my Marines took the shirts off their backs to make a tourniquet. Others took off their socks ... and shredded them to stick into the holes to stop the bleeding," she said. They walked miles before she was airlifted to safety and medical treatment.
"My Marines helped me the whole way on my adventure," said Dewey, who mustered out of the Marines in 2003 as a major.
Hardened by her training and experience, Dewey came home to a broken marriage and difficult financial times.
Since then, she said, she developed cancer, as has about half of her platoon.
She left her home in Indiana to find work in Springfield last summer.
Despite her eight years of active military service, several college degrees and experience in accounting and bookkeeping, finding and keeping a job has been difficult.
She and her children once lived in her car before she was able to find a landlord who would allow her to move in with credit troubles.
So, when she lost her job and then didn't get her full child- support check in February, she knew she was facing homelessness again.
"I was so desperate at that point," she said.
She called nearly every agency on a list provided by a social worker but kept getting denied.
"I was in tears," she said. "Marines don't cry, but I cried."
She began packing, knowing that she would be evicted.
But the piece of paper had one more phone number .
She picked up her phone and called it, expecting another rejection.
Spilken answered.
Today, Dewey is looking for work but is ready to use her spare time to volunteer for Our House .
"I think her organization is one of the best around," said Dewey. " There are lots of veterans who can't get help. We are just thrown by the wayside."
Additional Facts
"I was in tears. Marines don't cry, but I cried."
-- Maj. Rebecca Dewey
Ellie