From 
Del.icio.us
Digg
Reddit
Facebook
StumbleUpon
TwitThis
It all happened by chance. Frank Buonanotte was going through some junk mail when he came across a postcard advertising a History Channel documentary. "That pile of mail had been sitting there for weeks," he says. "But I noticed the movie was scheduled to air within the hour." For some reason, Buonanotte, 54, a semiretired entrepreneur and commercial real estate developer, tuned in.
Into the Fire was about firefighters, and Buonanotte (pronounced "bwone-a-'note-eh") was fascinated. "One segment was about what it's like to be in a fire," the Atlanta resident recalls. "The smoke makes it impossible to see, you're crawling along the floor, people are trapped in remote rooms." The film explained how a new technology called thermal imaging could "see" through smoke and walls so firefighters could identify victims, fallen colleagues, and the source of a fire.
The documentary stuck with him. Having recently quit his day-to-day duties as founder and CEO of two companies, the Shopping Center Group and Party City, Buonanotte had been meeting with a life coach to figure out "what the second half of my life would be about."
At first, Buonanotte thought he would simply donate a few thermal imagers. He contacted the National Fallen Firefighters Foundation, and one conversation led to another. Buonanotte decided to set up and run a charity, 500 for Life (he asks for at least $500, but he'll accept any amount).
Since its founding in 2007, the nonprofit (500forlife.org) has donated 40 cameras to fire departments in 25 states. "It's never been easy for me to ask people for money," says Buonanotte. "But if firefighters have the courage to go into a burning house, then I need to have the courage to ask for money to get the equipment they need."
The Buonanotte family, which includes wife Michele, daughter Alyx, 22, and son Eric, 19, absorbs the administrative costs so that all contributions can go directly to buying new cameras. In addition, the family itself donates several cameras a year, and Buonanotte travels the country to speak, solicit money, and deliver cameras—"the most rewarding part of the job."
The Crockery Township Fire Department in Nunica, Michigan, received one of the first thermal imagers and shares it with two neighboring departments. "The camera is on the frontline pumper, the first truck out the door," says fire chief Gary Dreyer. He recalls the time his crew lost radio contact with two firefighters trapped inside a large building. "We were able to find them with the thermal imager and get them out before the structure collapsed."
Buonanotte could not have predicted the impact that the documentary would have on him—and others. "Business success is good and fulfilling," he says, "but many people end up thinking there must be more than just this. Usually, it's giving back that makes someone feel whole and satisfies that feeling that something is missing. I've been able to help firefighters save more lives. It doesn't get any better than that."
One of Them
Francesca Tenconi was 11 years old and a competitive swimmer when a sore appeared on her arm. "At first, I thought it was just a mosquito bite," says Tenconi, who lives in Los Angeles. But the "bites" became blisters and then lesions. By the time she was diagnosed, Tenconi had lost 85 percent of her skin to pemphigus foliaceus, a genetic autoimmune disease in which the body attacks its own skin.
"The hardest part," says Tenconi, now 25, "was that all of a sudden, I wasn't able to do any of my favorite activities." She missed six weeks of the sixth grade as well as summer camp.
Tenconi's was also a disease without a support network. "I met other kids all over the country at hospitals where I was treated, and we would bond over our frustration that there was nowhere we could all come together."
Tenconi decided to do something about that. She took money she'd received for her 16th birthday and established the Children's Skin Disease Foundation. Within a year, she had raised enough money to open Camp Wonder in Livermore, California. The camp covers all costs for every child, including transportation and medical care during the annual one-week retreat.
That week, Tenconi and her parents work day and night, directing cars, troubleshooting, and calling airlines to make sure campers get home safely. Volunteer counselor and former camper Stephanie Pham says, "For one week, we're able to be ourselves because no one is gawking at us."
Camp Wonder convened again the last week in June, when 85 children came together for arts and crafts, games, archery, and swimming. The week culminated in prom night, a camper favorite.
Medication keeps Tenconi's disease at bay. As executive director of the foundation, she remains an active fund-raiser and is in a postbaccalaureate premed program at the University of Southern California. She has also found her calling: "Pediatric dermatology. That's where my heart is."
Advertisement 
