We're Not in Kansas Anymore - a Column by Helen Baldwin

sky, bloom, silence, feathers, timeHelen partners with Randy, her “retired” husband of 46 years, in assorted endeavors: a rental cabin, carpet dry-cleaning business, and bees — lots of bees! — and all that goes with them, namely honey and beeswax products. Her favorite role is “MomMom” to Clara and James. Originally from Texas, Helen taught kindergarteners with orthopedic and multiple disabilities after a move to Columbia, South Carolina. A few years later, Helen, Randy, and their children, Matthew and Katie, moved close to the Blue Ridge Parkway in North Carolina. In the spring of 1997, they welcomed baby Jeffrey, a big surprise harboring an even bigger one — spinal muscular atrophy. Helen’s teaching expertise was called into action until their precious little guy snagged his wings at 5-1/2 months. She wrote a book, “The Jeffrey Journey,” about their special assignment and is delighted to continue sharing in her column, “We’re Not in Kansas Anymore.”

Memories of the Past, and a Miracle in the Present

The Christmas spirit eluded me in 1997. Our baby Jeffrey, diagnosed with SMA that summer, had snagged his wings that November. Needing to find something positive, I focused on why I should be thankful. Jeffrey was in heaven, free from the ravages of SMA. I knew that, and…

Giving Thanks Beyond the (Frozen) Turkey: Friends Through SMA

Last year, my brother and I plotted to round up our respective families for Thanksgiving. It was a daunting effort. Our family branches are scattered over three states, and, as usual, work schedules conflicted. Alas, thanks to some angel intervention and alignment of enough stars, we managed to come together.

Some Trips Cover a Distance, but Some Don’t

After high school graduation, I studied abroad through the American Institute for Foreign Study. Based in Oxford, England, our group attended classes at Balliol College and enjoyed side trips to London, Paris, Rome, and Florence, Italy. From shrimp scampi at the Mitre Inn, to rolling hills, rosy cheeks,…

The Keepsakes That May Not Make Much Sense to Others

If there’s not a 12-step program for sentimental slobs, maybe there oughta be. As a sentimental slob myself, I come by it naturally. Let me explain. Although my parents had little money when they married, Dad made a reservation for their honeymoon at a new hotel in town. After the…

Happy (School) Days Are (Hopefully) Here Again!

Lights! Camera! Action! My family’s goings-on might make good fodder for a reality TV show. It’s been a memorable year so far, including my mother’s declining health and death in February; a collapsed ceiling and water damage two months later in what had been…

The Importance of Awareness, Then and Today

The homework assignment in fifth grade involved music. I probably wrote a few short reports about composers and attempted to draw some instruments with my dual-ended map colors. I wrote “Music” on the outside of the blue folder and added some spiffy artwork. Good spelling came naturally…

To Delete or Not to Delete: That May Be the Question

“MomMom! MomMOM!” When hollered out in glass-shattering decibels, my grandma moniker can mean anything. During my recent extensive time in charge of our grandchildren, Clara, 6, and James, 4, I’ve dashed to the scene of what sounded like emergency status more than once. One episode of Clara’s “MomMOM!” revealed…