Build a Better World 2011 Winners

It's humbling, really. The nominations for Fresh Home's Build a Better World Awards told story after inspiring story of people who use their creative energy and talents to improve their schools, their communities, their world. We heard about teen tutors donating their earnings to cancer research. We learned about Air Force personnel putting sweat and free time into fixing up homes for those who can't. And we met visionaries transforming salvaged construction materials into new buildings. Builders, bakers, bloggers. Artists, environmentalists, designers. All proving that, yes, anyone can make a difference. You can make a difference. The five recipients of the first-ever Build a Better World Awards embody the creative and giving spirit of all who quietly and unselfishly dig in every day to enrich the lives of others. And we're more sure now than ever that creativity—coupled with a whole lotta heart—really can build a better world.

Jennifer Swain | Special Spaces | Knoxville, Tennessee
Chances are, if there's a child in Knoxville, Tennessee, with a life-challenging illness, Jennifer Swain—an energetic designer of bedrooms for sick kids—already is in motion.

"I get an email, a message, whatever," says the former second-grade teacher and mother of nine. "I go in and ask the kids about actors they like, music, themes, are they into soccer or football.

"Then I sit down with the parents to see what the medical needs are. They may need a bed that’s a certain height for a child in a wheelchair, for example, or special shelves for medicines."

What the kids want is eclectic. "One little girl wanted a frog-and-baseball theme," Jennifer recalls. "So we custom-made her bed in the shape of a lily pad, which is round like a baseball, and put a frog on top." She chuckles. "Then we realized you can't get round sheets at Walmart, so we had to make sheets, too."

After talking with parents and kids, she designs the room, alerts her core volunteer team of five to seven people, then rounds up sponsors such as Target, Home Depot and Benjamin Moore to donate supplies, furnish volunteer workers, and cover some of the costs.

The room is built in a single day. Volunteers arrive to meet the child and his or her family; then the family leaves and Jennifer's team swings into action. Four or five people will set up a sewing center. A contractor will give a bunch of volunteers power tools. The painters will sort out their supplies and get down to priming.

"We couldn't do it without our volunteers," Jennifer says. "There's so much to do. We've recently expanded into 15 states, and we have 90 kids waiting for their dream bedrooms, with another 800 requests to consider."

Jennifer's goal is to organize an affiliate in every state to meet the need. But that's tomorrow. Today she has to design a princess room, a dragon room, a firehouse and a dollhouse.

She has work to do.

Visit specialspaces.org to learn how you can help.

Pippa Arend | P:ear | Portland, Oregon
When she talks about the amazing kids who gather at P:ear, an organization that empowers homeless and transitional youth to improve their lives, Pippa Arend paints a vibrant canvas.

It's dazzling—and probably not unlike what kids feel as they enter the 4,000 square feet of art space in Portland, Oregon, that is the setting for P:ear, founded by Pippa, Beth Burns and Joy Cartier.

There's a large table and shelves loaded with art materials. Music is playing, and there are community volunteers with expertise in art, music, writing or in the hugely important skill of just being alive. And there are other kids like themselves: young people who sleep under bridges, in doorways or in the woods.

"The reasons kids come here are as different as each kid," says Pippa, who admits that, before she picked up a welding torch as a metal artist, she was one of those youth on the streets. "One kid comes for coffee. One needs a meal. One needs a place to rest.

"We take a couple of minutes to interview them, figure out their needs, and they're in."

P:ear doesn't overwhelm the kids with forms and bureaucracy. "We’re flexible," Pippa says. "We show them around—there's the sink, there are the supplies, don't get ink all over the place, just go for it!"

As a result, the kids feel respected, and P:ear can use art, music and writing as a common ground on which to build transformational relationships. "The kids know that we're a place that really focuses on the creative space between people."

Visit pearmentor.org to learn how you can help.

John Mutter | The Bamboo Bike Project | New York
Put a Columbia University researcher who cares about poverty, hunger, pollution and sustainability on a bike, and you’re likely to change the world.

"I ride a lot, and I'm interested in development issues, especially in Africa," John says.

A few years ago, while thinking about the challenges faced by those in the West African nation of Ghana, he began to wonder if bikes could help give Ghanaians easier access to jobs, food and medical care.

Transportation is one of Ghana’s biggest issues. Paved roads are few, and seldom are in good shape. If people need medical care, they usually have to walk long distances or take an expensive minibus, John says. Job seekers can look only within walking distance of their homes. Ghanaians who are involved in agriculture (and 50 percent of them are) can sell only what they can strap to their backs for a walk to a market.

"A bike gives you a huge advantage," John says. "Most people can walk two to five miles an hour for three miles. If you have a bike, for the same effort, you can ride 15 or 20 miles."

If you're a farmer, that means you can hit four or five markets and carry more cargo.

Unfortunately, the bikes available in Ghana are either unsuited to the rough terrain or are made of materials that are simply too expensive for the vast majority of Ghanaians.

John kept thinking about the problem as he cycled around New York. Then, about five years ago, he came across a few bike builders making specialty bike frames of bamboo, which is extremely light and as strong as steel. The possibilities were intriguing since bamboo grows in Ghana, has a tubular shape perfect for bike frames, and reproduces like a weed.

"So a bamboo bike can be made locally from material that regrows, suits the environment and satisfies an important local need," John says. "It can be made in Africa, for Africa, by Africans—and that is both highly sustainable and highly unusual."

Visit bamboobike.org to learn how you can help.

Heidi Halverson | Volunteer, Patterson Elementary School | Gilbert, Arizona
Board games. Glitter stations. Shades of lemonade and tropical plants.

If it's Friday, Heidi Halverson is probably at Patterson Elementary near Phoenix. Chances are that she’s up to her elbows in paint, glue, fabric or glitter. Maybe even feathers.

"I've always loved doing craft stuff for my nieces and nephews," Heidi explains. But one day, she was hanging out with friend Jennifer Luke, a teacher at Patterson. Jennifer was lamenting that she didn’t have enough time to do all the creative things she wanted to do to make learning exciting.

Laughingly defining herself as a professional craft lady for the community, "Miss Heidi," as her adoring pint-size fans call her, volunteered to bring out her sewing machine and craft box and see what she could do to help.

"As long as I can remember, I've done crafts," she says. "My mom and grandmom were supercrafty and super-resourceful. My grandmom collected old clothes, buttons and zippers. She'd turn them into quilts that were pieces of art."

It's no wonder Heidi was a hit at Patterson from the minute she set foot in a classroom.

Once the teachers realized how resourceful Heidi was, she was in demand to come up with games, costumes, math tables and bulletin boards. Challenges come from both teachers and kids. Can you make a lemon costume? Can you turn a board game into a jungle?

"I love figuring it out," Heidi says. "Especially when something's a kid's idea. It encourages them to dream big, and it feeds their imaginations. The kids make you feel like a rock star. And the random hugs just make my week."

She pauses, thinking back over the projects she’s done with kids, then compares this gig with the management job she had for eight years as an officer in the National Guard.

"Doing budgets didn’t do it for me," Heidi says. "This feeds my soul."

Reach out to your local parent teacher group or the National PTA (pta.org) to learn how you can help schools in your area.

Faith Fowler | Cass Community Social Services | Detroit
Detroit is a city that twists and turns on the whims of the auto industry. And as times have gotten tough elsewhere, they've gotten even tougher in Detroit. In that kind of environment, you’ve got to get creative.

The Rev. Faith Fowler, Methodist minister and executive director of Detroit’s nonprofit Cass Community Social Services agency, has done precisely that.

"Poor people take the brunt of our pollution problems," Faith says. "They live in neighborhoods with lead-based paint and abandoned tires that are breeding grounds for mosquitoes, rodents and the diseases they spread."

Faith began to wonder if there was a way to link job training for men in the agency's shelters to green industries. Then she read about a project Native Americans in Arizona launched. They picked up tires and recycled them into mud mats to sell for use in homes. Faith reached for the phone to learn more.

To date, community volunteers in Detroit have picked up 12,000 tires, which have been recycled into more than 5,000 mats. Men from the agency’s transitional housing program are paid $8 an hour to make the mats. They remove the sidewalls, cut the rubber into strips, and weave them into mats.

"This not only helps our workers earn a living, it helps them make a difference in the world," Faith says. "And the guys are so proud they're helping to save the planet. They sign their mats the same way an artist signs a painting."

Visit casscommunity.org to learn how you can help.

Photos by Robert Rausch, Doug Hoeschler, Buff Strickland, Christiaan Blok, Matthew Gilson. Written by Ellen Michaud.