GRATEFUL DAD LOOKS FOR PENNIES FROM HEAVEN - AND NICKELS, DIMES\. . .

Byline: Dennis McCarthy

"I find that if you run with the sun in your eyes, you have a better shot at it. It makes the coins glisten." - Clayton Steffensen.

It's been seven years and 19,000 miles since the runner stopped to reach down in the gutter to pick up that first penny.

He took it home and dropped it into an empty Sparkletts water bottle he put upstairs, in the corner of his bedroom.

Pretty soon, the penny was joined by a few nickels and dimes - then some quarters.

Later on, even some folding money showed up in the 5-gallon bottle - a few singles, some fives and tens. Once, he even found a $20 bill.

Lost money. Found money. Almost $1,000 of it - crammed into Clayton Steffensen's Sparkletts bottle over the last seven years.

A few weeks ago, the 62-year-old marathoner went into his garage, got a dolly out, and brought the heavy, overflowing bottle down a flight of stairs, out to the sidewalk to a waiting truck.

Then, he headed over to Dixie's place.

They were all young parents back in the late '60s - parents looking for others just like them - someone to talk to while they sat on a park bench and watched their retarded toddlers play together in the sandbox.

Parents like Dixie Henrikson and Mary Schallert sitting at Studio City Park, leaning on each other for support and advice while Dixie's daughter, Deborah, played with Mary's daughter, Susan.

Wouldn't it be helpful, the women thought, if there were some programs available where their kids could meet and play with more kids like them - where they could learn socialization skills, and begin the long, hard road to mainstreaming into a society that would always look at their children a little askew?

Yeah, it'd be great. But where - and how? Both women took their thoughts home, and began making telephone calls.

Before long, the park benches at Studio City Park began to fill up with other parents like them - parents wondering and wanting the same thing for their own retarded children.

Parents like Clayton and Jannine Steffensen, who became charter members of this organization Dixie was trying to get off the ground on a shoestring from her dining room in the early '70s.

This group calling itself Activities for Retarded Children.

Deborah and Susan were there at the beginning - so was James, the Steffensens' boy. Playing and learning together.

Today, they are all in their early 30s, still working hard to mainstream into society while their parents continue to help them and more than 100 other retarded children and adults who come to Dixie's place over in North Hollywood every day.

The kids play. The adults learn.

It took a couple of weeks to sort out this lost money Clayton wheeled into Activities for Retarded Children and Adults, Dixie says. Money nobody ever thought they'd see, she laughs.

A thousand dollars is a lot of money to a nonprofit organization like hers, but more than that, it's a great learning tool.

The kids sat at long tables and worked on their coin identification. Some were responsible for the pennies, others the nickels, dimes and quarters.

"I called up our bank and warned them that most of the change we'd be bringing in was pretty beaten up because it was all found in gutters throughout the Valley," Dixie said.

"They said no problem. It's all legal tender - just chewed up and pretty grimy, that's all," she says.

Sometimes, Clayton Steffensen says, he looks back on the last seven years and 19,000 miles, and wonders how all that money found its way into the gutter?

"The pennies, you figure nobody wants, but the nickels, dimes, quarters, and half dollars?" he asks. "You wonder what's the story behind them."

And what's the story behind those 150 pennies he found scattered in a gutter in the Sepulveda Basin one morning - just lying there for the taking?

He must have looked pretty foolish that day, running home with 150 pennies wrapped up in a handkerchief clutched to his chest so the pennies wouldn't fall out.

Maybe it's just in his blood - this picking up loose change in the streets, Clayton figures.

After all, he's been getting paid for watching over money for the last 35 years by NBC in Burbank, where he works in the finance department.

Either way, he's at it again - looking to fill up another Sparkletts water bottle for Dixie's kids.

Back out on the streets - running with the sun in his eyes.