Who Is Secret Santa?

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MrsSpringsteen

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He has given out about 1.3 million dollars, I think that's amazing. Now he has cancer.

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By MARIA SUDEKUM FISHER, Associated Press Writer Sat Nov 18

For 26 years, a man known only as Secret Santa has roamed the streets every December quietly giving people money. He started with $5 and $10 bills. As his fortune grew, so did the gifts. In recent years, Secret Santa has been handing out $100 bills, sometimes two or three at a time, to people in thrift stores, diners and parking lots. So far, he's anonymously given out about $1.3 million. It's been a long-held holiday mystery: Who is Secret Santa?

But now, weak from chemotherapy and armed with a desire to pass on his belief in random kindness, Secret Santa has decided it's time to reveal his identity.

He is Larry Stewart, a 58-year-old businessman from the Kansas City suburb of Lee's Summit, Mo., who made his millions in cable television and long-distance telephone service.

His holiday giving started in December 1979 when he was nursing his wounds at a drive-in restaurant after getting fired. It was the second year in a row he had been fired the week before Christmas.

"It was cold and this car hop didn't have on a very big jacket, and I thought to myself, `I think I got it bad. She's out there in this cold making nickels and dimes,'" he said.

He gave her $20 and told her to keep the change.

"And suddenly I saw her lips begin to tremble and tears begin to flow down her cheeks. She said, `Sir, you have no idea what this means to me.'"

Stewart went to the bank that day and took out $200, then drove around looking for people who could use a lift. That was his "Christmas present to himself." He's hit the streets each December since.

While Stewart has also given money to other community causes in Kansas City and his hometown of Bruce, Miss., he offers the simple gifts of cash because it's something people don't have to "beg for, get in line for, or apply for."

That was a feeling he came to know in the early '70s when he was living out of his yellow Datsun 510. Hungry and tired, Stewart mustered the nerve to approach a woman at a church and ask for help.

The woman told him the person who could help was gone for the day, and Stewart would have to come back the next day.

"As I turned around, I knew I would never do that again," Stewart said.

Over the years, Stewart's giving as Secret Santa grew. He started a Web site. He allowed the news media to tag along, mostly because he wanted to hear about the people who received the money. Reporters had to agree to guard his identity and not name his company, which he still does not want revealed.

His entourage grew over the years, and he began traveling with special elves. People like the late Negro Leagues icon Buck O'Neil, who handed out hugs while Stewart doled out $100s. NFL Hall of Famer Dick Butkus will join Stewart this year in Chicago when Stewart hands out $100s in honor of O'Neil, the first African-American coach in the Major Leagues.

They'll give out $100,000 between Chicago and Kansas City. Four Secret Santas who Stewart "trained" will hand out an additional $65,000.

Doctors told Stewart in April that he had cancer of the esophagus and it had spread to his liver. He has been lucky, he says, to get into a clinical trial at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. But the aggressive chemotherapy has stripped away his appetite and energy. He's lost about 100 pounds, but has held onto his white hair.

The treatment costs more than $16,000 a month, not including the cost of traveling to Houston every two weeks and staying there for five or six days. He now has two months off, but returns to treatment in February.

His insurance company won't cover the cost of the treatment, which has left him concerned about his finances and his family.

Now, his mission is bigger than handing out $100 bills. Stewart wants to speak to community groups about his devotion to kindness and to inspire others to donate their time and money.

"That's what we're here for," Stewart says, "to help other people out."

___

On the Net:

http://secretsantausa.com/
 
Larry Stewart died yesterday. :(

KANSAS CITY, Mo. - Larry Stewart, a millionaire who became known as Secret Santa for his habit of roaming the streets each December and anonymously handing money to people, died Friday. He was 58.

Stewart died from complications from esophageal cancer, said Jackson County Sheriff Tom Phillips, a longtime friend.

Stewart, who spent 26 years giving a total $1.3 million, gained international attention in November when he revealed himself as Secret Santa. He was diagnosed in April with cancer, and said he wanted to use his celebrity to inspire other people to take random kindness seriously.

"That's what we're here for," Stewart said in a November interview, "to help other people out."

Stewart, from the Kansas City suburb of Lee's Summit, made his millions in cable television and long-distance telephone service.

His private holiday giving started in December 1979 when he was at a drive-in restaurant nursing his wounds from having been fired. It was the second year in a row he had been fired the week before Christmas.

"It was cold and this carhop didn't have on a very big jacket, and I thought to myself, `I think I got it bad. She's out there in this cold making nickels and dimes,'" he said. He gave her $20 and told her to keep the change.

After that, Stewart hit the streets each December, handing out money, often $100 bills, sometimes two and three at a time. He also gave money to community causes in Kansas City and his hometown of Bruce, Miss.

Stewart said he offered the simple gifts of cash every year because it was something people didn't have to "beg for, get in line for, or apply for."

Stewart gave out $100,000 between Chicago and Kansas City in December. Four Secret Santas whom Stewart "trained" gave out another $65,000.
 
This is very sad. The world is definitely a lesser place without him. RIP. :(
 
KANSAS CITY, Missouri (AP) -- Susan Dahl had spent four months homeless in Colorado and just been on a harrowing 10-hour bus trip through sleet and snow. Hungry and broke, all she wanted to do was get back to family in Minnesota.

That's when a tall man in a red coat and red hat sat next to her at the downtown bus station, talked to her quietly and then slipped her $100 on that recent December afternoon.

The man was doing the work of Larry Stewart, Kansas City's original Secret Santa, who anonymously wandered city streets doling out $100 bills to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Stewart died of cancer at age 58 earlier this year, but his legacy lives on.

"He said `Here's a $100 bill ... and this is in memory of Larry Stewart,"' said Dahl.

During about a quarter century, Stewart quietly gave out more than $1.3 million to people in laundromats, diners, bus stations, shelters and thrift stores, saying it was his way of giving back at Christmas for all the wealth and generosity he had received in his lifetime.

For years, Stewart did not want his name known or want thanks or applause. But last December he acknowledged who he was and used his last few months, while battling cancer, to press his message of kindness toward others. He even trained some friends in the ways of Secret Santa.

This Christmas, a friend who told Stewart in the hospital that he would carry on for him is out on the streets, handing out $100 bills, each one stamped with "Larry Stewart, Secret Santa."

Between Kansas City and several other cities this Christmas, the new Secret Santa will give away $75,000 of his own money, mostly in $100 bills.

"I didn't want to be a Secret Santa," said the man, a business consultant who lives in the Kansas City area. "I wanted to give Larry money. But last year, he said I had to hand it out myself. So I did, and I got hooked."

This new Secret Santa talks about Larry Stewart to just about everyone he encounters. "Have you ever heard of a man named Larry Stewart?" he asks before handing out $100 or more.

Depending on who he's talking to, the new Secret Santa might say Stewart was a man who believed in making people happy by giving them money they didn't have to ask for, apply for or wait in line for.

"There was this fella named Larry Stewart," he tells a man in the bus station. "He was an old friend of mine. He was called Secret Santa, and every year he would find a few people who might need a little money and he would ask that you pass on the kindness."

People respond differently to the gesture. Some cry. Some scream. A rare few even say "No thanks."

Others take the money and offer their own gifts. like Robert Young, who was homeless and had only 20 cents in his pocket. When Secret Santa gave him $200, Young, 50, took out an old notebook and ripped out a song he had written.

"It's yours now," he told Secret Santa, who thanked Young, and carefully tucked the pages into his pocket.

The new Secret Santa has also started a Web site, and is trying to recruit other Secret Santas across the country. "Larry's dream was for a Secret Santa in every city," Kansas City's Santa said.

There are now a couple apprentices, with more candidates turning up all the time. But, he says, you don't have to be willing to hand out money to be a Secret Santa.

"Anyone can be a Secret Santa," he says. "You don't have to give away $100. You can give away kindness. Help someone."

Susan Dahl, right, cries after Secret Santa, left, handed her a $100 bill last week.

art.santa.tears.ap.jpg
 
Just a day or so ago I remembered this story from last year and I wondered if any of the Stewart's friends had kept it up this year. It's nice to know they have.
 
MrsSpringsteen said:
KANSAS CITY, Missouri (AP) -- Susan Dahl had spent four months homeless in Colorado and just been on a harrowing 10-hour bus trip through sleet and snow. Hungry and broke, all she wanted to do was get back to family in Minnesota.

That's when a tall man in a red coat and red hat sat next to her at the downtown bus station, talked to her quietly and then slipped her $100 on that recent December afternoon.

The man was doing the work of Larry Stewart, Kansas City's original Secret Santa, who anonymously wandered city streets doling out $100 bills to anyone who looked like they needed it.

Stewart died of cancer at age 58 earlier this year, but his legacy lives on.

"He said `Here's a $100 bill ... and this is in memory of Larry Stewart,"' said Dahl.

During about a quarter century, Stewart quietly gave out more than $1.3 million to people in laundromats, diners, bus stations, shelters and thrift stores, saying it was his way of giving back at Christmas for all the wealth and generosity he had received in his lifetime.

For years, Stewart did not want his name known or want thanks or applause. But last December he acknowledged who he was and used his last few months, while battling cancer, to press his message of kindness toward others. He even trained some friends in the ways of Secret Santa.

This Christmas, a friend who told Stewart in the hospital that he would carry on for him is out on the streets, handing out $100 bills, each one stamped with "Larry Stewart, Secret Santa."

Between Kansas City and several other cities this Christmas, the new Secret Santa will give away $75,000 of his own money, mostly in $100 bills.

"I didn't want to be a Secret Santa," said the man, a business consultant who lives in the Kansas City area. "I wanted to give Larry money. But last year, he said I had to hand it out myself. So I did, and I got hooked."

This new Secret Santa talks about Larry Stewart to just about everyone he encounters. "Have you ever heard of a man named Larry Stewart?" he asks before handing out $100 or more.

Depending on who he's talking to, the new Secret Santa might say Stewart was a man who believed in making people happy by giving them money they didn't have to ask for, apply for or wait in line for.

"There was this fella named Larry Stewart," he tells a man in the bus station. "He was an old friend of mine. He was called Secret Santa, and every year he would find a few people who might need a little money and he would ask that you pass on the kindness."

People respond differently to the gesture. Some cry. Some scream. A rare few even say "No thanks."

Others take the money and offer their own gifts. like Robert Young, who was homeless and had only 20 cents in his pocket. When Secret Santa gave him $200, Young, 50, took out an old notebook and ripped out a song he had written.

"It's yours now," he told Secret Santa, who thanked Young, and carefully tucked the pages into his pocket.

The new Secret Santa has also started a Web site, and is trying to recruit other Secret Santas across the country. "Larry's dream was for a Secret Santa in every city," Kansas City's Santa said.

There are now a couple apprentices, with more candidates turning up all the time. But, he says, you don't have to be willing to hand out money to be a Secret Santa.

"Anyone can be a Secret Santa," he says. "You don't have to give away $100. You can give away kindness. Help someone."

Susan Dahl, right, cries after Secret Santa, left, handed her a $100 bill last week.

art.santa.tears.ap.jpg

This was in our local paper, too. Dang near made me cry (as my son says, "How hard is *that*???"). It is wonderful to know that there are still good people in this world!
 
SI.com

Texans' Green, Simmons reach out to Houston family
Posted: Tuesday December 25, 2007

p1_texans_foster.jpg



The best play in the NFL this year involved a perfect pass, a great catch, huge celebrations, and even tears.

It was the day when Jason Simmons and Ahman Green of the Houston Texans facilitated a $50,000 down payment for ReginaFoster, a single mother who is raising an autistic child named Reggie.

The idea to help a family in need came out of a jersey swap. When Green signed with the Texans during the offseason, Simmons was already wearing jersey No. 30, the number Green had worn since his college days at Nebraska. Green called Simmons and asked if he could have it. Simmons said yes, but under one condition: Instead of paying Simmons for the number in cash, cars or jewelry -- as often happens in professional sports leagues -- they would find a local family and offer assistance.

Out of a list of candidates last summer they picked Foster, who was able to move her son from a small apartment into a larger house in a Houston suburb. Green donated $20,000, Simmons $5,000 and Texans owner Bob McNair matched them.

During a trying NFL year off the field, the benevolence of the Texans provided a sense of balance. Simmons, Green and Foster showed that the widening gap between professional athletes and the general public is not always impossible to bridge.

"It was something that pro sports needed, not just football," Green said in a recent telephone interview. "You hear a story like that, it makes you want to pass the word along."

Green, Simmons and Foster have done their part, spending large chunks of their time throughout the year retelling their story. I caught Green one afternoon in the Texans training room. Simmons interrupted his off-day at home for a chat. Foster took a break from her work day to talk about the pride of being a home owner and the benefits to her son, who now has a backyard of his own.

"Children with autism basically need a structured life, where everything is the same," said Foster, whose new home is closer to Reggie's school. "He has a schedule that he has to follow when he gets home."

Last month, the Texans held a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the Foster home, and the family officially moved in. In more good fortune, her mortgage payment is less than her old rent payment, and she can continue in her job at a loan company.

Foster hasn't wasted any time settling in. She hosted the family's Thanksgiving dinner for the first time in her life as relatives from all over Texas filled the home for turkey, stuffing and sweet potato pie.

Foster admitted that she felt an unexpected pride being able to host more than a dozen family members in her new house. Her old place couldn't have held them.

"My mother and grandmother were crying because they know how long I've been struggling," she said. "It was very emotional."

The dinner was such a big hit that the family has decided not to wait until next Thanksgiving to gather at the home again.

"We'll also have Christmas dinner here," Foster said.

The players, meanwhile, continue to feel the good vibes of making a positive change for a mother and her son. Simmons, a defensive back, said he has two new friends in the Fosters. Green, a running back, is already planning to send a Christmas card.

"You don't get a lot of opportunities to help out a complete stranger, to make a change that might help them for the rest of their lives," Green said. "We didn't think it would be this big of an impact. We didn't know that having a child with autism, how much it affects him being in one place and helps to benefit his growth."

Simmons said he feels better about helping the Fosters than any tackle he has ever made.

"No one is going to remember Jason Simmons the football player," he said. "If someone can remember Jason Simmons the man, it's even better."

The Fosters, no doubt, will never forget.
 
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