What Forgotten People Teach Us About Public Service
- Catherine Huckaby
- May 16
- 6 min read
There's something honest about someone who can look back at their career and pinpoint exactly where their passion for serving others began. For Renni Burt, it started with a father who would give his last two dollars to someone in need.
"My dad was that person that if all he had was $2 and someone else needed it, he would give it to them."
That simple example of generosity became the foundation for a career built on genuine human connection. Her mother worked as a dispatcher at a mid-sized Police Department in Texas, giving her early exposure to public service. Through the police explorer program, Renni even considered becoming a police officer herself.
But she knew her limits: "I knew I could never 'not react' when somebody did something that I did not agree with. I just knew that that was not the path I was going to take."
That self-awareness led her to community initiatives instead, where her directness became an asset rather than a liability. She spent more than three decades in a small but highly affluent suburban city in the Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex, known for luxury neighborhoods, top-ranked schools, and strong civic involvement. She worked first as Court Clerk and Code Compliance Officer, and later as Fire Prevention Officer with the Fire Department.
Seeing the Invisible: A Turning Point
The depth of Renni's approach to community engagement shows in the moment everything changed. During a routine annual inspection at a group home, she went outside to find a colleague sitting in her car...crying.
Her brother, who had been deaf, blind, and had other special needs, had recently passed away.
"She told me how much she missed her brother. I said, 'Why don't we do something to honor him?'"
That conversation sparked what became an eight-year tradition, now entering year nine of Christmas parties for local group homes. They started small, inviting two group homes and gathering a few employees and community members to host a celebration.
But more importantly, it opened her eyes to an underserved population.
"I wasn't really comfortable being around people with so many challenges at first, but that changed fast. They say whatever they're thinking, which I absolutely love. They are who they are."
This directness she admired would become her own signature approach to public service.
The Population That Shouldn't Be Forgotten
Renni recognized that the special needs community faced a larger pattern of being overlooked or actively avoided. Her work with four group homes revealed the daily indignities these individuals face. The stares, the pointing, the discomfort others display.
The relationships that began with those Christmas parties continue today, even though she has moved on in her career.
"We developed this connection. I talk to them all the time. I go over and sit and eat dinner with them, or I'll invade their Halloween parties."
Through this work, she gained perspective on the challenges families face. She recalls parents with autistic children being looked down on when their kids are difficult to manage. The long-term worry weighs on her: "The parents know that when they're gone, what's going to happen to their kids? I can't imagine that."
Her frustration with how society treats this population drove her to create spaces where they could participate fully.
"I used to invite special needs kids from the high school to volunteer at the fire station. If you have somebody that's autistic and they yell, it's kind of loud. So, I created a space for them upstairs with closed doors to help them be more comfortable."
Treating Everyone as Human
This philosophy extends beyond the special needs community. Renni recalls a telling moment involving a family of little people out in public. When someone she was with pointed and said look at them, she went over immediately to greet friends she recognized. The family and Renni are good friends to this day.
Her approach to conversations surprises people who expect awkwardness or pity. Walk up on a conversation between Renni and anyone with special needs, and you'd hear her talking to them just like she talks to anyone else. If they're being rude, she has no problem calling them out. This directness, far from being offensive, feels genuine to people used to others treating them differently.
"So many people choose to walk by or ignore because they feel uncomfortable being around others who are different."
In government work, this kind of bluntness can be risky. But Renni found that authenticity built stronger connections than diplomatic distance ever could.
The Resource Fair That Changed Everything
Building on those relationships, she helped organize what she considers a pinnacle moment: a comprehensive resource fair for families of children and adults with special needs.
"We had speech therapists, play therapy, and first responders who taught about 911 safety, just so many resources in one place. Everybody poured everything they had into making it helpful."
The event served a couple hundred people. "It's something that should be done in every city. It's a population that shouldn't be forgotten."
What made it work was personal investment rather than checkbox planning. The program grew from listening to community needs rather than imposing predetermined solutions.
The Secret to Real Connection
Ask most people what makes effective community engagement, and you'll hear about strategic planning and measurable outcomes. Ask Renni, and she'll tell you something simpler: people have to actually like you.
"I used to teach CPR classes on Saturdays, hundreds of them over the years. Sometimes I'd walk away wondering if I did a good job because something was happening in my personal life and wondered if I gave it my best. But people loved the class and gave me five stars. Most of your success depends on whether you are likable."
This isn't about being fake or performing friendliness. It's about approaching every interaction with the same genuine respect and openness, whether you're talking to a celebrity or someone experiencing homelessness.
That philosophy cuts through the bureaucratic distance that often separates government workers from the communities they serve. When you genuinely see people as equals, everything changes. And in a field where many carefully measure their words and reactions, her willingness to be herself stood out.
Beyond Events: Defining Success
When asked to define successful community engagement, she focuses on results that last.
"It's when the relationship has continued and they are then willing to invest their time. They come back as volunteers, whether daily, weekly, or monthly. They found value in what you taught them and in turn, that made them want to serve."
This is the metric that matters most. Not how many people showed up to an event, but whether those people became invested enough to return and contribute.
The Non-Negotiable Skill
When it comes to working in community engagement, Renni is adamant about one requirement:
"You can't teach people to love people. It's something you either have in you, or you don't. If you don't, you should not be working in any field that contains the word engagement."
This matters more than degrees, certifications, or technical knowledge. Being patient under pressure, maintaining kindness when dealing with difficult personalities, and genuinely caring about strangers requires a particular temperament.
It also requires self-awareness to recognize your limits.
Life After: Finding New Joy
What's notable about Renni's story is how she found happiness by stepping into something completely different. Now working with Official Pix handling autographs and memorabilia.
"I work for owners that let me do my thing and trust me. I absolutely love the company and my role."
The work brings unexpected delights, like meeting celebrities at Comic Cons. Even in this new role, she brings the same unfiltered approach that defined her community work. No pretense, no special treatment, just genuine interaction with every person she meets.
A Legacy of Daily Phone Calls
When you ask Renni about her proudest moment, she doesn't talk about awards or recognition. She talks about a resource fair where everyone showed up fully invested, about Christmas parties that continue years later, about residents of group homes who still call her daily to check in.
That's the legacy of someone who understands community engagement not as a job function, but as a way of being in the world.
For more than three decades, Renni showed up consistently for populations that others overlooked. She built programs from genuine human connection rather than bureaucratic mandates. And she did it by being herself: direct, honest, and deeply human.
That willingness to treat everyone the same, to call people out when needed, and to show up genuinely in every interaction didn't always fit the mold of traditional public service. But it created something more valuable: real relationships that last far beyond any job title or official role.
For anyone looking to make a real difference in their community, her journey teaches this: Start with genuine care all people, especially those society tends to ignore. Build real relationships. Be yourself, even when it's easier to play it safe.
If you're the kind of person who can't walk past someone in need, who gets frustrated when people are ignored or overlooked, you're exactly who communities need.
Public service doesn't have to be forever. It can be for a season, for a few years, for however long you can give. What matters is showing up with your whole self while you're there.
Start now. And remember that sometimes the most powerful community programs begin with finding someone crying in their car and asking, "Why don't we do something about this?"
