We're Not in Kansas Anymore - a Column by Helen Baldwin
Helen 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.”
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…
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.
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,…
I credit my mother for my affinity for (most) things hair-raising. She loved thrillers. While her vision allowed, she was drawn to the TV shows “Forensic Files” and “Criminal Minds,” delighted to learn that our daughter, Katie, was also a fan. Halloween’s creepy stuff comes…
My husband, Randy, and I live in the North Carolina mountains. The New River State Park down the road lures campers and canoers in summer months. From late September through late October, the leaf-lookers join in. Fall is spectacular around this part of the state, with bountiful mountains…
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…
My husband, Randy, and I had been married 23 years when news of a surprise third baby, um, surprised us. Jeffrey hadn’t been planned (by us, anyway), yet we forged ahead almost sanely in anticipation of our expanding family. Our oldest child, Matthew, then 10, undoubtedly knew just enough about…
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 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…
“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…