Walls Tumble Down With Help From Trio

Walls tumble down with help from trio
BY LARRY PORTER
WORLD-HERALD STAFF WRITER

Dave Burgess would stare out the living room window and remember how the soft autumn sun warmed him as he sat in his tree stand. He could feel a gentle spring breeze whenever he revisited a farm pond in his mind.

Dave Burgess, camouflaged by a Gillie suit used by military snipers, lies on his stomach while hunting at DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge. Although Burgess prefers to hunt on the ground, snow or cold weather forces him to stay in his wheelchair.

Then he would turn in his wheelchair and see that look on his wife's face. Danielle knew how deeply her husband longed to enjoy the outdoors again. But there was nothing she could do. She wasn't strong enough to push Dave and his wheelchair into the woods so he could hunt deer. Or along a shoreline so he could fish. That look. Dave, now 46, melted every time he saw it. Danielle felt inadequate for not being able to help her husband taste the outdoor life again. Tears of guilt would swim in her eyes and magnify the look of hopelessness. Life was good for Burgess in 1998. He had just graduated as a certified nursing assistant. Hunting and fishing were simple pleasures then. So was a campfire, sizzling hotdogs and flaming marshmallows speared on sticks, the giggles of two young daughters. It happened at work. A patient - a woman who weighed no more than 100 pounds - started to fall from bed. Burgess caught her, but damaged a disk in his spine. Surgery. Another disk collapsed. Surgery again. A third disk collapsed. Burgess needed a cane to walk. More surgeries. He could only shuffle with the aid of a walker. Now, after seven back operations, much of his spine is fused, and he is anchored to a wheelchair. But Burgess no longer looks hopelessly through a window. Nor does he see that look on his wife's face. Armed with a crossbow, he hunted deer more than a dozen times last fall. Three new friends gave him the freedom to once again enjoy the deer woods. Best of all, Burgess is the rocket thrust for a new program soon to be unveiled by the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission that will match handicapped and able-bodied outdoor enthusiasts.

Although Burgess, third from left, did not kill a deer during last year's archery season, he and his family still enjoyed venison because those who took him hunting brought processed meat of deer they shot. His three mentors are Scott Thorstad, left, Mike Freel and Rik Cutting.

Burgess' life changed last fall when he posted a message on the commission's outdoor hunting forum.
He stated that he was confined to a wheelchair and needed the help of an able-bodied person to hunt deer.

Mike Freel, a Nebraska Methodist College administrator, spotted Burgess' plea for help. So did Rik Cutting, a Navy commander stationed at Offutt Air Force Base. Cutting called Navy recruiter Scott Thorstad, a chief petty officer stationed in Omaha. Thorstad has long had a desire to operate a hunting camp for disabled hunters after he retires from the Navy, and he agreed to help. All three bowhunters who responded are familiar with the barriers faced by disabled persons. Freel's 5-year-old daughter, Mason, has cerebral palsy. Cutting's mother is disabled. Thorstad's sister has multiple sclerosis. "I guess I'm hypersensitive to issues about disabled folks," Freel said. "I like to think of myself as an advocate."

Freel and a friend, Steve Hess, took Burgess to the archery range maintained by the Golden Arrow Archery Club at Cunningham Lake. Then Freel took Burgess to DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge for his first deer hunt. "The folks at DeSoto were incredibly helpful in allowing Dave to have keys for gates so he could have access to different areas of the refuge," Freel said. Burgess didn't see a deer that day. But it didn't matter.

"There were no more walls," Burgess said.

Cutting and Thorstad took Burgess with them more than a dozen times. Cutting owns a noisy diesel pickup truck and normally would have drawn angry responses from bowhunters if he had driven past their tree stands. But there was no anger. The other hunters soon learned that a man in a wheelchair was now one of them. They smiled whenever they heard the clattering truck pass. They also offered to help. A harmonious mood settled over the woods.

Herb Lueders, a World War II Navy veteran who lives near Tecumseh, Neb., allowed Cutting and Thorstad to bring Burgess to his farm. "Herb was extremely supportive to the point that he would have loaded Dave on his tractor and taken him anywhere on the property," Cutting said. The experience was so fulfilling that Burgess began to envision how other disabled people could enjoy the entire range of outdoor experiences, including photography, camping and bird watching. Freel spent countless hours developing the program and writing a proposal to the commission. The concept was simple: Construct a page on the commission's Web site where handicapped people can hook up with able-bodied volunteers who will take them on a hiking trail, on a hunting or fishing trip, even to a gathering of astronomers where telescopes can be fitted to their wheelchairs. There no longer are walls.

Jeff Rawlinson, the commission's outdoor education specialist, said Rex Amack, director of the agency, gave his blessing to the project this past Wednesday. The program could be in operation by March or April.

Freel said he considers his labor an investment so that others, including Mason, can enjoy the outdoor experience.

Thorstad said he learned that his dream of operating a hunting camp for disabled people is feasible.

Cutting said he valued the process of cementing a friendship with Burgess.

And what was the best part for Burgess?
"My wife's smile," Burgess said, softly. "She always felt guilty that she wasn't physically able to take me out to a lake or get me set up hunting. What these guys gave her, I'll never be able to repay. They gave her happiness. She was able to see me go out."