They did what they did out of commitment, conscience or passion. That is what I like about them. Their cause was just, their motive was pure, and their reward was neither fame nor fortune, but the satisfaction of doing the right thing.

Which brings us to the Esmonde Awards. The Esmos are annually given to ordinary folks who did extraordinary things. There is no gala awards night or cash stipend or even a plaque. There is just this:a public pat on the back to these folks who made this community a better place.

Kelly Cline— The Cheektowaga mom nearly single-handedly shamed Albany legislators into passing a self-evidently obvious law banning texting while driving. Cline, a secretary at West Seneca West High School, took action after her son, A. J. Larson, died in a car crash while text messaging on his cell phone. In hopes of preventing more tragedies, she endured the agony of thrusting A. J.’s crash-scene photos into the faces of state lawmakers. Although the law was ultimately watered down, a casualty of typically infuriating Albany dysfunction, Cline claimed a half-victory and persuaded Erie County legislators to pass a muscular version. Against all odds, she found light in the darkness.

Mark and Janice Stevens— The Christian couple brought farming to Buffalo’s inner city. There is a sad but practical logic to it. In Buffalo and declining cities, demolition of worthless, abandoned houses cleared large stretches of land. With little demand for new builds, the fields were ripe for plowin’.

The Stevenses are extraordinarily decent folks who moved into the bleak Broadway-Fillmore neighborhood from rural Wyoming County to extend their mission of service. After months of friction from city officials, they leased the open two acres behind their house. Spring planting awaits.

Spencer Gaskin— Tired of watching young people get killed, Gaskin did something about it. He is a retired union painter from the East Side who wanted to give aimless young folks an alternative to the drug trade. A four-letter solution: J-O-B-S. Gaskin and his nephew, Dorian Gaskin, bought an old factory, used their pull to recruit a volunteer platoon of tradespeople, wrangled donated supplies and created a 10-week job-training program. The Outsource Center has since churned out dozens of “graduates” with basic contractor skills, while clawing for money to keep the doors open. The model ought to be duplicated in every bleak neighborhood.

Julie Padak— No one better than Padak proves that anyone can make a difference. She is a 29-year-old downtown paralegal whose duties include dog-walking the office pet. The route included neglected streets and pocket parks behind Pearl Street near St. Joseph Cathedral—the prime byway between downtown and Erie Canal Harbor. Distressed by the trash and weeds, she launched a cleanup campaign and called owners of surrounding businesses and city officials for help. The subsequent crusade beat back the blight and showed that, yes, Buffalo, we can.

Prish Moran— She said it was not her intent to inject hope into the neighborhood. But that is what happened when Moran—despite the misgivings of many—bought the big, nearly abandoned brick building on the city’s tattered West Side. With unconscionably little help from the city, and digging deep into her own pockets, the one-woman energy source tapped into a rainbow coalition of local tradespeople and a network of friends to remake the eyesore into apartments, a flower shop and— notably—Sweetness 7 Cafe. The coffeehouse on Grant Street is now an oasis for local progressives, students and neighbors— and a step toward community rebirth.