Good Guy in a Black Helmet

Last month, Tanya Pickle, a single mother from St. Petersburg, moved into a new home.

Her own home.

That's not significant in the grand scheme — history will record that an Indian Ocean tsunami killed more than 150,000 people the same month that Pickle first put a key in her new front door.

But for her, it means being a part of the "ownership society," to use the words of President George W. Bush. For her children, it means having a level of stability and comfort for the first time.

And she has Betty Smothers to thank for it.

You'll find Betty Smothers' name on Panel 7 of the National Law Enforcement Memorial in Washington DC. She was killed in a botched robbery on Jan. 7, 1993 — two days after her oldest child's 18th birthday.

But the real monuments to Smothers' memory might be the single mothers who have joined the ranks of homeowners in the last three years, and their children, who have the security of going to bed at night in their own homes, instead of living at the mercy of a landlord who might see their dwelling as an investment.

That was how Betty Smothers and her six children existed, even while she risked — and eventually lost — her life as a cop in Baton Rouge, LA. Tragically, she didn't live long enough to realize her own dream of buying a home.

Even more tragically, she didn't live long enough to see her oldest child become a star in the NFL.

But the memory of Betty Smothers lives on every time her son, Warrick, helps a single mom become a homeowner.

In some places, including the Associated Press, which reported Tonya Pickle's moving day, Warrick Dunn has gotten top billing, because the Atlanta Falcons' running back has the marquee name. But in so many ways, this story is about Betty Smothers.

The Warrick Dunn Foundation, which was founded in her memory, instituted the "Homes For the Holidays" program in 2002 so Dunn could help other women realize his mother's dream. The foundation does this in two ways — through direct funding and by working with social service agencies like Habitat For Humanity and the United Way.

Since then, more than 50 single mothers, and more than 130 of their children, have moved into their own homes. Dunn's good deeds have followed his own path through life — he has helped women in his hometown of Baton Rouge; in the area of Tampa, where he began his NFL career with the Buccaneers; and in Atlanta, where he has played since 2002.

"Homes For the Holidays" is a classic example of a program that is a hand up rather than a hand out.

For the working poor, most of whom live paycheck to paycheck, the toughest thing about buying a home isn't the mortgage. Many "Homes For the Holidays" beneficiaries make smaller monthly payments as homeowners than they did as renters.

The most difficult part is coming up with the up-front costs — the down payment, for one thing. Many apartments and rented homes include things like the stove, refrigerator, which a homeowner has to provide his or herself when moving in. In Pickle's case, those expenses came to more than $50,000.

That money came from the a wide range of agencies, according to the Associated Press, including $37,000 from the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development, $10,000 in a loan that will be forgiven after 10 years, $5,000 from the Warrick Dunn Foundation, and $2,000 from Pickle herself.

In January, during NFL Players' Week on "Wheel of Fortune," Dunn participated, with the winnings going toward his foundation. Unfortunately, he didn't do nearly as well spinning the big wheel as he, and the Falcons, did this season.

Atlanta earned a first-round playoff bye after finishing the regular season with an 11-5 record and Dunn purred beyond the 1,000-yard barrier at an age — he turned 30 on Jan. 5 — when most running backs are headed for the scrap heap.

This season marks the third time in Dunn's career that he has finished with more than 1,000 yards, which is thrice more than many expected of the 5-foot-8, 190-pound running back when he came into the league in 1997.

Even this season, statistically the second most successful of his eight-year career, Dunn has defied convention. Logically, he's not the right feature runner for the Falcons, which already have one quick elusive back taking the snaps from center.

Conventional wisdom would hold that a bigger back, who could provide power running, would be a better complement for Michael Vick. But Dunn has made a career of defying convention, both on and off the field.

It's no coincidence that he has the maturity and toughness — both mental and physical — to pull that off. Even before his mother was killed, Dunn, as the oldest child, often found himself caring for his siblings while she was at work. After her death, he was suddenly burdened with adult responsibilities without the benefit of an adult paycheck.

Those who dismissed Dunn as being too small as an every-down back at both the collegiate and professional levels apparently focused too much on the size of his body and not enough on the size of his character — the very same character that leads him every year to the single mothers he helps provide with homes.

Apparently, he comes by that character the old-fashioned way. He inherited it.

And it's equally apparent that Betty Smothers' greatest monument isn't having her name carved into a stone tablet in Washington, DC nor is it in any new home.

It's in the legacy of a son who values doing good as much as he does being good.