Support Group

A founder of a support group for the victims of child sexual abuse stroked her breast and caressed her inner thigh, a former member of the group testified yesterday.David B. Fulghum, co-founder of the Onionskin Cooperative, nuzzled her neck and stroked her buttocks, saidanother woman, a niece of Fulghum's girlfriend.The two women, both victims of previous sexual abuse, testified during the opening day of Fulghum's trial in District Court in Glen Burnie that they trusted him because of his position, but he betrayed that trust, they said.

Stacey Hirth talked of being "angry and sad" about her uncle's deployment to Saudi Arabia."We're afraid that if the war is going to go on," the elementary school student said, "we won't see him for a very long time."She was speaking at a support group at Red House Run Elementary in Rosedale for students with family members deployed to Saudi Arabia.Stephanie Hoehn, whose brother Bill is a Marine in Saudi Arabia, talked about someone from the military who calls her home sometimes attempting to recruit her other brother to become a Marine.

Ronald M. Tillier, a retired Ford Motor Co. executive and longtime Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge volunteer, died Sunday. He was 72. Mr. Tillier, who enjoyed competitive clay and skeet shooting, was attending a meet Sunday afternoon in Kennedyville on the Eastern Shore when he was stricken. "He was just preparing to call for targets to be thrown by the trapper when he simply dropped where he was standing," said his wife of 48 years, the former Margaret "Peggy" Clare.

A Carroll County mother of a 24-year-old heroin addict has been waiting six years to attend a local heroin support group, like the one being held tonight at the National Guard Armory in Westminster. The woman, who requested anonymity to safeguard her daughter's privacy, said she's eager to attend the meeting to see if the fledgling group can "open some eyes about the urgent need" for long-term treatment of heroin addicts such as her daughter. The meeting, sponsored by the county Juvenile Justice Department and the office of the state's attorney, is geared to anyone needing support, guidance, information or a sympathetic ear on heroin-related issues, organizers say. "It's an opportunity for the victims of heroin abuse - the family members of the addicted abusers - to realize they are not alone in dealing with this devastating drug," said George Butler, a drug-education specialist for the state's attorney.

For the first three years of its existence, one student club at St. Jane Frances Roman Catholic School did not appear in the yearbook.Guidance counselor Martha Monaghan thought members of Rainbows For All God's Children would not want their classmates to know they were part of a support group for students living in single-parent households or with a stepparent.But that changed two years ago when the students at the Pasadena school began to ask why they weren't included with the other clubs.

Jacy Haas is still learning to deal with the outbursts of her son Charles, 7, who has autism. But she has trouble getting others to understand what it's like to be in her shoes. "It's really hard," said Haas, who lives in Keymar in rural western Carroll County. "You go out in public, and people look at you like you can't control your child." Haas is one of the organizers of Carroll County's first support group for families of children with autism, a disorder that impairs parts of the brain responsible for social interaction and communication skills.

Jacy Haas is still learning to deal with the outbursts of her son, Charles, 7, who has autism. But she has trouble getting others to understand what it's like to be in her shoes. "It's really hard," said Haas, who lives in Keymar in rural western Carroll County. "You go out in public, and people look at you like you can't control your child." Haas is one of the organizers of Carroll County's first support group for families of children with autism, a disorder that impairs parts of the brain responsible for social interaction and communication skills.

The Friends of Mercy bid amelancholy farewell to themselves last Sunday at a $30-a-plate dinner at the Sheppard Pratt conference center in Towson. They bid a final goodbye to their organization and perhaps, at long last, to the old stigma that had brought so many of them together. In the mid-1990s, there were more than 500 dues-paying Friends of Mercy, a support group for men and women - mainly Catholics, at first - who were recovering from broken relationships, separation and divorce.

They have shared countless cups of coffee, picnics in the park and rambunctious holiday parties. They have comforted each other through illness and the deaths of spouses. And together they have walked around the mall tens of thousands of times. On Thursday, the Marley Station Milers celebrated 20 years of striding through the mall hallways before the shops open. They watched a slide show of memorable moments - who could forget the time a member dressed as a bunch of grapes or a can of soup on Halloween?

As he travels the desert with the 3rd Infantry Division in Iraq, Tiny Heath is missing a lot at home. The private first class has missed putting his hand on the belly of his wife, now six months' pregnant, and feeling the baby kick. He missed hearing the heartbeat for the first time. Last month, he missed an important genetic test his wife had to take alone. In a few days, he'll have missed the sonogram and their first wedding anniversary. And if he stays away until August, he'll miss the birth of their first child.