Collection: In their own words

A year ago, many of us wondered how we could go on.

But we have.

Oftentimes, what helped us get through this first year since "Tucson" and "tragedy" became forever linked was the support of family, the comfort of faith, the memories we carry. But sometimes it was the little things, the simplest gestures, that made the difference.

As the anniversary of the Jan. 8 shootings approached, the Star asked many people directly affected by the tragedy to share an act of kindness that helped them endure the pain of losing a loved one, taking a bullet or seeing innocent people die. Survivors accounted acts large and small - not necessarily the grandest gesture or the most significant outpouring, but just something that helped.

On this first anniversary of one of the saddest days our community has endured, we hope that reading their words reminds us all that when the worst happens, we don't have to say the perfect thing or give the perfect gift. We just have to show up, and show we care.

Many small things add up to create a feeling of understanding.

Before she died, Mom had made arrangements to have the patio sliding glass door fixed. The service man came, fixed the door and did not charge anything for his time and effort. He was someone who did not know us and was doing what he does to make a living and put food on his own table.

When Phyllis, Ernie and I went to the gem and mineral show in Tucson (Phyllis Rautenberg and Ernest Schneck Jr. are Phyllis Schneck's other two children), Phyllis and I spoke with a vendor who gave us each a necklace out of the goodness of her heart, remembering when she lost a family member to violence. Once again, someone who did not know us personally.

The owners of the New York Giants sending flowers to Mom's memorial gave the feeling that they cared about losing a loyal fan.

We received crocheted "angels" from dozens of people all around the country to let us know Mom was being remembered and that we now had a very special angel watching over us.

This does not include the friends, family and co-workers who have been with us as support through the entire ordeal; people who are willing to listen and comfort us when we need it.

I am sure with time I could come up with many more examples. What all this shows me is that for the most part, most individuals are good, caring, loving and yes, God (whatever entity they consider to be their God) fearing people.

Good still conquers evil the majority of the time.

Betty Jean Offutt is one of three adult children of the late Phyllis Schneck, 79.

The Tucson community has blessed our family with innumerable acts of kindness, generosity, creativity and understanding. These have strengthened our resolve to move forward constructively and with grace.

Everyone we've dealt with who knew what had happened has shown kindness and consideration. We cannot remember a single unkind word.

We extend our deepest appreciation.

The family of the late Gabe Zimmerman, 30, a beloved aide to U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords

I received 900 notes, letters and postcards, and there are three of them that will always stay with me.

I got a letter from a women in the Deep South who didn't have much. She sent me a $5 bill after telling me how sorry she was and told me to "please go out and have a cup of coffee on me."

Then there was a Jewish man in Los Angeles who told me God had ordained my marriage to Dory. He wrote it in Yiddish and in English.

The third piece of correspondence was from an organization in Iowa that crochets butterflies and angels. I received 30 of them, along with notes from the women who made them. I decorated my Christmas tree with them.

I've given romantic advice to so many young people who were touched by my love story with Dory. (The two had been childhood sweethearts when they were in sixth grade in Tucson together and reconnected as adults after their spouses died.)

I was also touched when my granddaughter took a leave of absence from her job as a flight attendant to move in with me for six weeks.

And without my faith in God, I would have crumbled.

Everybody has been wonderful. It has been very touching. My neighborhood kept me in food for two months.

My injuries healed. But my heart is still broken.

Mavanell "Mavy" Stoddard, 76, was shot three times, leaving five bullet wounds. Her husband, Dorwan "Dory" Stoddard, 76, who used his body to shield her from the bullets, was killed.

Christina-Taylor and I loved to play around outside in the morning while waiting for the bus. It was very lonely for me after she passed.

In mid-January our neighbor Susan Leeser called my parents up and volunteered to bring her dog, a black-and-white Australian shepherd rescue dog named Katie, out every school morning at 6:45 a.m. while I'm waiting for the bus. They thought it was OK.

Mrs. Leeser keeps me company, and I play with her dog. We have become great friends. I love her dog, and I have some company each morning while waiting for the bus.

She is on vacation now, but when she gets back we will start up our morning chats again.

I am very grateful for my neighbor.

Dallas Green, 12, whose 9-year-old sister, Christina-Taylor, was the youngest victim of the shooting rampage.

Dear Tucson,

I love our town - don't you?

Twelve months ago, I typed the same words to you, thanking you for caring for me and worrying about me and praying for me.

Twelve months ago … it feels like yesterday and it feels like forever.

Twelve months ago, I walked through the grocery store anonymously. Twelve months ago, Chistina-Taylor and I stood, holding hands and giggling, as we waited for our turn to tell our congresswoman just exactly how the world should be run.

We never got the chance.

That's a shame. It's awful. It can't ever be made right. But it is not how I have come to frame my thoughts about that day. Dwelling on the horror got me no place. Feeling comforted by my community has helped me heal.

It began immediately, just as the shooting stopped. Right that very minute, the awful sounds were replaced by calming words and soothing hands. People of action, everyday heroes, regular people who shared only a ZIP code. … Tucsonans held my hand and called my family and reassured me that I would be fine.

The caring continued after I left the hospital. Neighbors and newcomers brought us dinner every night for 12 weeks. Each afternoon, sometime between 4 and 5, a little bit of the outside world came my way.

Along with the chicken casserole or the Mexican lasagna or the heart-shaped meatloaf for Valentine's Day, our visitors carried with them a connection to the outside world. Leaving my house required planning; opening the front door required only six short steps. And, at the end of those short steps, there was a hug and a smile and someone new to tell me how well I was doing.

As I recovered and felt more comfortable venturing farther from my perch on the couch, I found myself the center of attention, no matter where I went. Strangers ran out of restaurants, carrying half-eaten slices of pizza, just to tell me how wonderful it was to see me up and about.

Riding the motorized shopping cart through the grocery store was a series of congratulatory smiles and encouraging words. "I know you!" became the Muzak to my life.

As a transplanted New Yorker, I carry with me a certain sense of physical reserve. The secret to living in a bustling, overcrowded metropolis is to maintain your personal space. In the last 12 months, I've learned that the secret to living in a loving community after suffering a public tragedy is to open myself up to the possibilities contained within each hug and smile and kind thought.

So, thank you to the couple in the produce aisle, to the mom and son comparison shopping for flour, to the woman who recognized me as she turned the corner.

Thank you to the officer who gave me a warning instead of a ticket because "You've had enough already this year" and to the ladies behind the sandwich counter who refused to let me pay for my lunch.

Thank you to the elementary-school children who have read to me and hugged me and written me stories.

Thank you to the volunteers who have joined me as we GRIN together, bringing the generations together in new and exciting ways.

The physical rehab has been my responsibility. The emotional piece seems to be shared between us.

You are in my life; you have shown me you care. I cannot let you down. Please don't underestimate how important your love has been over these last 12 months.

I love you as much as you've shown that you love me. It's how I've managed to muddle through.

The next time you see me, please remember that my recovery is your recovery, too.

Fondly, Suzi Hileman

Hileman, 59, brought neighbor Christina-Taylor Green to the Jan. 8 Congress on Your Corner event, was shot in the chest, front right thigh and back right hip.

We made it into the doorway of the Safeway. That was our objective.

Immediately a couple of people just rushed right up. One of the employees grabbed my wife, Carol, and helped her. A shopper came over and helped hold my arm up in the air to keep the bleeding down by elevating the arm. His name was Mike. That's all I can remember, but he helped me.

Family, friends and the church (Northminster Presbyterian) have been just wonderful. The pastors called every day for several weeks, one or more of them. And there was an outpouring of support from people in the congregation. That's what really helped us through this trying time.

Some woman from Indiana crocheted an afghan for the people who were shot. It was so thoughtful and comforting from someone you didn't know.

People at a church in Portland knitted prayer shawls for every one of us who were wounded.

These were genuine acts of kindness. It really has helped the healing.

Ken Dorushka, 64, was shot in the arm as he shielded his wife, Carol, from the gunfire.

Students at Sam Hughes Elementary, where two of Ron Barber's grand-children go to school, made a touching gesture last January, but it required a diversionary phone call and some scheming by his wife, Nancy.

"They kept talking and talking and talking. Meantime, I heard the patio door opening and closing, opening and closing.

"Finally Nancy opened the door and said, "Come on out." I opened the patio door, and there they were - 300-plus luminarias lighting the patio. It was so beautiful. I didn't know what to say. I wept.

"It was so sweet and so Tucson - you know, luminarias. It was a major boost for me as I was recovering."

Ron Barber, 66, is district director for U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords, was shot in the face and leg Jan. 8.

Amy Goodman and Juan Gonzalez (hosts of the left-leaning talk-radio show "Democracy Now") provided me a forum to express my opinion (that far-right political rhetoric set the stage for the shootings).

As Gabby said in an interview during the lurid 2010 campaign, "Words have consequences."

I wasn't allowed to express my feelings to anybody. They just wanted to know what part of your anatomy was impacted, what it did to you physically. As far as my feelings were concerned, they were disinterested.

This allowed me to express my feelings at the moment.

James Eric Fuller, 64, was shot in the leg and back.

Even when I was in ICU, I had been wondering what happened to my wallet after arriving at the hospital.

I remembered the doctors and nurses removing my watch from my wrist and my wallet from my hip pocket in the ER. I knew I would need my wallet when I was discharged - I didn't want it to fall into some evidence black hole.

FBI Director Robert Mueller stopped in to say hello and ask if there was anything he could do. I just wanted to get my wallet back. Mueller laughed and said he thought he could handle the request - it seemed simple compared with similar requests he often receives.

Shortly after I was discharged from the hospital, my watch and wallet were delivered to the house.

I am also especially appreciative of my two brothers and my cousin who drove from Southern California to help my wife while I was in the hospital and after my release.

Jim Tucker, 59, was shot in the right collarbone. The bullet split apart, lodging in various parts of his back. One fragment cracked a vertebra. He was also shot in in the lower leg.

If you had told me last year what I'd be doing now, I'd have said, "Never in a million years."

I've always been a person who believes in the right to bear arms, but with that right comes responsibilities. I've become involved with Mayors Against Illegal Guns. More than 600 mayors have banded together to try to keep guns out of the hands of dangerous people by fixing the nation's background check system, requiring a background check for every gun sale and combating illegal gun trafficking.

I've become a supporter of people who try to effect change. To see all these people rise up, shake off the shock and try to make something positive come out of this horrific incident - to me, that is very healing.

Patricia Maisch, 62, helped get ammunition away from the shooter as he tried to reload his gun. Go to azstarnet.com/pdf to read her recent testimony to the Senate Judiciary Committee's crime and terrorism subcommittee.

At their opening day April 15, the Tucson Padres honored four people who helped end the mass shooting.

"They had us go out front and throw out the first pitch. I threw a pretty weak pitch, though, 'cause I haven't played baseball since I was like 10. We got to sit in the box and watch the game.

"I don't think I'm a hero, but they wanted to acknowledge that we were helpful. So I was honored, for sure.

"It was a really good memory."

Joe Zamudio, 25, was in Walgreens when the shooting broke out and ran outside to help subdue the shooter.

People often say that kindness is something random. Hence the phrase "random acts of kindness," but in the last year I've learned there is no such thing. One of the moments that sticks out most in my mind is quite recent. In my last trip to New York City, my friends who work for the speaker of the City Council arranged for me to take a tour of the 9/11 memorial site. This was a unique tour because I was being guided by a first responder. This allowed me to talk to someone who had also gone through a trauma and spoke about the healing that must take place and how best to memorialize those who passed away.

Daniel Hernandez Jr. , 21, was an intern for Giffords and is credited with helping save her life by propping her up against a wall so she wouldn't choke on her own blood.

I am a 75-year-old retired Army colonel who went to see Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords on the morning of Jan. 8, 2011.

Who would have ever thought that a tragic event such as the one that took place that beautiful morning could ever happen in Tucson?

That tragic event changed my life forever. My priorities in life have changed. My family, friends and our great country are now my No. 1 priority.

I found out how great the people of Tucson and the United States are. They have all come together to show their support and respect for the six individuals killed and also the 13 who were shot but managed to survive.

My objective for this first anniversary is to honor and remember forever those innocent people who were killed on Jan. 8, 2011. Dorothy Morris, Phyllis Schneck, Dorwan Stoddard, Judge John Roll, Gabe Zimmerman, and last but the most tragic of all was 9-year-old Christina-Taylor Green.

My heart and prayers are with the families and friends of those who lost loved ones on that January morning.

Some of the kindness bestowed on me is as follows:

The Arizona National Guard Association, both Air and Army, gave me the Minuteman Award, which is one of the highest awards given by the National Guard. They also nominated me for the Valley Forge Cross for Heroism, which was awarded to me by the National Guard Association of the United States.

I got the Citizen Award from the Pima County Sheriff's Department.

I got a free week at Canyon Ranch from owner Mel Zuckerman.

I also got the Shining World Hero Award from Supreme Master Ching Hai.

I was selected as one of the most inspiring individuals for 2011 by AARP.

Bill Badger, 75, helped wrestle the gun away from shooter Jared Lee Loughner.

The stereotype of a media mob is well-documented in movies - a horde of ravenous reporters waving cameras, microphones and notebooks pounces upon and encircles a hapless individual, pushing, shoving and shouting questions.

It is a horrifying image - and is in an untrue one.

For 35 years, I was a reporter. But on Jan. 8, 2011, I was on the other side. I was a press adviser to Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and was with her at the Safeway that day.

Obviously it was a big story - the biggest one in the country for several days. Reporters descended on Tucson en masse. But they were - with only a handful of exceptions - understanding and sensitive to our loss.

The media did its job - but they did it with almost universal kindness.

In the first few terrible hours and then for days after I was interviewed by many reporters whom I knew well - from the Arizona Daily Star, Tucson Weekly, Arizona Public Media, The Arizona Republic and local television stations.

Each first apologized for having to question me about what clearly was a traumatic incident in my life. They knew it was difficult for me to talk about friends and colleagues who had been injured or killed.

I talked to many reporters who were moved to tears by having to cover such a horrible story. It was difficult for those of us who were there - but I also know it was very difficult for those whose job it was to tell our story.

This was an unspeakable event. But I am very proud how it was handled by my former colleagues from Tucson, from Arizona and from around the nation.

Thank you.

Mark Kimble, 59, is communications director for U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords.

I grew up in Chicago and have been a Cubs fan all my life. I've got the scars to prove it.

Following the horrid shootings of Jan. 8, Patricia and John Maisch found out I was going back to Chicago in the summer.

Patricia believes that I had a part in saving her life that day. She and John contacted the Cubs and got tickets to a game on Aug. 5. Little did I know that those tickets were box seats next to the Cubs dugout.

About 10 minutes before the national anthem, the owner of the Cubs came to me and asked if I would step onto the field. I was shocked. The announcer described that horrible day and my part in it, and then they presented me with my own jersey, with my last name emblazoned on the back.

It was one of the first times an ear-to-ear smile came over me since the shootings. That act of kindness goes beyond what I deserve. It was truly a wonderful gesture. Thank you.

P.S. The Cubs were kind also. They won.

Roger Salzgeber, 62, helped wrestle the gun away from shooter Jared Lee Loughner.

I received a call from a mother, Lisia Langejans, sharing an idea her daughter, Leah, had regarding giving back to first responders of the Jan. 8 incident.

Leah belongs to Girl Scout Troop 645 and wanted to offer a "Gift of Caring" to people she personally selected to receive boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I was so honored to be one of her selected recipients.

A meeting was arranged between Lisia, Leah and myself at my home, and I could hardly wait. Leah arrived with a bag of cookies bigger then she was.

I love Girl Scout cookies, so I knew from the contents of the bag that my taste buds would be well taken care of.

The gift of caring from Leah was a combination of not only overwhelming thanks but also Leah's spirit, inspiration and incredible, huge heart.

Every time I open a box of cookies, I think of Leah and smile. I am truly blessed!

Anna Ballis, having decided the line to see Giffords was too long, did some shopping at Safeway on Jan. 8, then rushed out to help the injured. She is credited with saving Ron Barber's life.

I can't overstate the generosity and kindness of all the people I've come in contact with.

Something that helped me was hearing from a fellow by the name of Tom Grace. He had been shot at Kent State in 1970, and I was there, too.

He wrote and asked if I was the Randy Gardner who had been at Kent State, and gave a phone number. We talked for a long time, and it was very comforting.

He's just a really good person, and I think it helped me resolve some of my feelings.

Randy Gardner, 61, was shot in the foot. He was in the crowd but escaped injury during another tragic shooting - when four students were killed by the Ohio National Guard at Kent State University in 1970.

There were and continue to be so many acts of kindness that it is truly hard to choose.

A few days after I was released from the hospital, a group of teacher friends from Tortolita Middle School, where I taught for many years, arrived with a carload of dinners ready for the freezer.

I have not taught at Tortolita for seven years, and yet here they were with food and good wishes from the whole faculty.

I was so touched by their thoughtfulness and caring.

Pam Simon, 64, Gabrielle Giffords' community outreach coordinator, was shot in the chest and through the right wrist.

Jan. 8, 2011, was a dreadful day, a day of pain, loss and despair. But where a gunman's rage blew a hole in my life, blew holes in my flesh, kindness rushed in to heal the wounds.

First it was the kindness of the butchers at Safeway, who ran out and held clean rags on my wounds. Another shooting victim, Randy, held those rags on my wounds.

The kindness of neighbors, church members and strangers formed a protective layer around me, around my family. They fed us for months, kept me company during the arduous process of wound care and hugged me when I needed it.

Long-lost high school friends tracked me down and sent flowers. Friends all over the world chatted on Facebook in the middle of the night when I was too upset to sleep.

Although I am grateful for these small and large acts of kindness, my favorite kindness is from Ms. Kircher's third-grade class at the 7 Mile School of the White Mountain Apache Tribe. They wrote stories in both English and Apache to comfort me and help me heal. Each is beautifully illustrated.

I read, and then reread, their work. It is a joy to know that these children reached out to me, a stranger, to help me heal.

My wounds have mostly healed, but kindness still abounds. The other survivors and families have opened their hearts to me and held my hand during memorial masses.

Tucson is a town infused with kindness, and for that I am grateful.

Mary Reed was shot in the arms and back as she shielded her 17-year-old daughter, Emma McMahon. She also suffered shrapnel wounds to the face and leg.

Following the shooting last January, my wife, Gabby, and I were embraced with a wave of support.

Acts of kindness came from everywhere. They came in the mail, on the phone. They sprouted up in spontaneous memorials at the University of Arizona Medical Center and in front of Gabby's congressional office.

Children from around the country sent letters and cards to Gabby. They were messages of hope and healing, a tool to help these young minds grapple with what happened on Jan. 8. They often came in big envelopes, from schools and classrooms in Tucson and across America - and around the world.

Those letters still are coming. Just recently we received messages from schoolchildren in Vietnam.

Sometimes, the children drew pictures and painted for Gabby. They wrote prayers and poems. Some messages expressed deep sadness for Gabby and the other victims. The messages, written in crayons or markers, often mentioned Christina-Taylor Green, the youngest victim.

Most of the children simply asked Gabby to get better. They shared their own stories of recovery.

With the help of a teacher, an 11-year-old Tucson boy sent a letter describing his own injury. He was shot in the head while playing outside when he was 8. Like Gabby, he had to relearn how to eat, walk and talk. He wrote, "I get stronger every day. … I can do everything now."

A third-grade class from Sahuarita sent cards shaped like ice-cream sundaes. They wrote, "We eat ice cream when we are sad. We hope you feel better."

The letters kept coming, flooding her hospital room and congressional offices. Children sent paper cranes, colorful chains, prayer beads and other kinds of crafts.

A class in Tucson made a cactus garden out of plastic foam. They painted the cactuses bright green and stuck them in the ground outside her office. Amidst the candles and flowers, they were a little bit of the Sonoran Desert she loves.

Students at a school from Poughkeepsie, N.Y., made an American flag out of red and blue child-size handprints. It was a reminder that the entire country stood behind my wife.

There were so many cards. Each of them beautiful and powerful. Most were made from construction paper in a classroom.

Gabby always had worked very hard to give children what they needed: a good education, healthy families and a safe community. Their pure and sincere outpouring was especially touching. Each message was a wonderful act of kindness.

The pictures and the words made her happy. They reminded her of home and the things she worked hard to protect. They inspired her to work hard to get better.

These acts of kindness helped Gabby heal. And for that, she and I are very thankful.

We thank every child who sent a message from the heart. We thank every teacher who led students through this difficult time and showed them that a small act of kindness makes a big difference.

Capt. Mark Kelly, U.S. Navy (ret.), wrote this on behalf of himself and his wife, U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords.