Kennedy Krieger

Bart Scott is playing checkers against 13-year-old Ashlee Black. The Ravens' star is bouncing his red pieces across the board, like pebbles skipping over a pond, and the pile of Ashlee's black discs next to Scott keeps growing. "No mercy!" he says with a laugh. That part probably isn't surprising. It doesn't matter whether Scott's on the playing field chasing some unfortunate soul carrying a football, or if he's in his living room playing on his 21-month-old son's miniature basketball set, swatting Bartholomew's shots all over the house, this is how he competes.

YOU WOULDN'T HAVE guessed that folks had stuffed themselves with turkey and all the trimmings just the day before. Not from the sumptuous breakfast of bagels, muffins, biscuits, French toast, eggs and bacon that several hundred were feasting on at the VIP breakfast for the Festival of Trees, Kennedy Krieger Institute's annual fundraiser. It wasn't just the breakfast that was big. The festival itself was the largest ever. "Seventeen years now. This has become a regular holiday event. And it must be 10 times the size it was then," said Dr. Gary Goldstein, Kennedy Krieger's president and CEO, as he surveyed the happy crowd.

Mary Graul spent more than a week cutting and fitting pieces for a 2 1/2 -foot-tall replica of a Chesapeake Bay lighthouse. She fashioned railings, windows, stairs, doors and a flashing light. And just about everything is edible. The lighthouse is one of more than 300 items entered in design contests for this year's Kennedy Krieger Festival of Trees, which opens a three-day run today at the Maryland State Fairgrounds in Timonium. The trees, wreaths and gingerbread pieces are sold to help raise money for Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore.

On Wednesday, March 8, 2006, BERNARD FISHER, beloved husband of Natalie F. Fisher (nee Rudolph); loving father of Sanford R. and Lois I. Fisher, devoted father-in-law of Darlene Fisher and Leo Jackson; beloved brother of Doris Schwartzman and Jean Lazinsky; loving grandfather of Jennifer and Stephen Fisher and Samuel Jackson. Services at SOL LEVINSON BROS INC, 8900 Resisterstown Road at Mt Wilson Lane, on Friday, March 10 at 2 P.M. Interment at Beth Tfiloh Congregation Cemetery - 5800 Windsor Mill Road.

Budget-cutting legislation that President Bush is about to sign into law could have a profound effect on the already difficult life of Katherine McBride. A divorced, disabled mother of two, Ms. McBride, 51, battled the system for years before she won Medicaid coverage for the costly mental health services her autistic son, Kevin, requires to grow up as normally as possible. A former accountant coping with her own brain injury, Ms. McBride has had to drive weekly to Baltimore's Kennedy Krieger Institute from her Western Maryland home for Kevin to get appropriate care.

Autism Kennedy Krieger gets $2.3 million Autism Speaks, a nonprofit organization dedicated to autism research and awareness, has awarded $2.3 million to the Kennedy Krieger Institute in Baltimore to create a national autism database that will link scientists, educators and families. Officials said the database will centralize registration of families and individuals with autism spectrum disorders and connect them with other individuals with autism, researchers and parents worldwide. According to Autism Speaks officials, "In addition to supporting scientific investigation, [the database]

It's a Christmas tree with a disco heart. The well-coiffed conifer, clad in a tight white suit, struck a Saturday Night Fever pose on a small, lighted dance floor. Its name? John Treevolta, of course. The disco-themed evergreen is one of about 300 donated Christmas trees, wreaths and gingerbread houses for sale this weekend at the Kennedy Krieger Institute's 16th annual Festival of Trees, an event that raises money to benefit children with developmental disabilities. "There are lots of Christmas festivals, but this one's making money for a very good cause," said Elise Babbitt, a spokeswoman for the Baltimore-based institute, which treats children with brain-related disorders, from mild learning disabilities to rare genetic disorders.

Dr. John McDonald wore a satisfied expression as a 21-year-old patient, paralyzed from the neck down in a diving accident, walked on a slow-moving treadmill. It wasn't walking as most people know it. Without electrodes firing his weakened muscles, his legs would barely move. Without two therapists physically placing one foot in front of the other, he would likely stumble. And without a body sling suspended from above, he would surely fall. To McDonald, recruited earlier this year to head a spinal-cord injury program at Baltimore's Kennedy Krieger Institute, there is nothing futile about exercising limbs that can barely move on their own. The 43-year-old neurologist says his work with the late actor Christopher Reeve demonstrated that exercise might hold the key to something scientists long considered impossible - reactivating neural pathways that have been silent for years.

From 1972 to 1981, if there was a leg whip to be administered, an eye gouge to be doled out or a bite mark to be given in the NFL's trenches, Conrad Dobler was more than happy to do it. Roundly called the "dirtiest player in the NFL," Dobler left no stone unturned in protecting his turf and his quarterback as a guard for the St. Louis Cardinals, New Orleans Saints and Buffalo Bills in a 10-year career. Imagine, then, given Dobler's nasty football nature, how surprised defensive linemen he faced would be to hear the words of hope that Dobler has for young victims of spinal cord injuries.

In an exam room at the Kennedy Krieger Institute, 2-year-old Lexi Koller makes her way slowly up a set of toy wooden stairs, holding her arms out for balance. At the top, she stops and breaks into a wide smile. "Yea! Good girl! You climbed up the mountain!" says therapist Alison Nelson. Over the next two hours, Lexi chases soap bubbles, builds towers out of blocks, looks at books, plays with baby dolls and kicks a soccer ball. The goal of all this activity: To spot the first signs of autism, the mysterious brain ailment that afflicts more than a million Americans.