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.”Is it possible that we might have a bit of input into how we snag our angel wings? It sort of seems like it. Near the end of my senior year of high school, my maternal grandfather underwent an experimental procedure to reduce tremors. It did not go well. During…
As I last wrote, my 89-year-old mother was admitted to the hospital after testing positive for COVID-19. “Oh no,” you might think. “That doesn’t sound good.” You’re right, it doesn’t. My mother, however, had high hopes for COVID-19. *** Our third baby, Jeffrey, burst into our arms…
Last Friday was a full moon, Friday the 13th kind of day, although officially it was neither. The stink bugs in the house and the dead skunk in the road summed it up perfectly. The day stank. But let me back up. The rental cabin my husband, Randy, and…
I spent a school year substituting in various special education classrooms in Fort Worth, Texas, before returning to school for teacher certification. I’d already worked with young children with developmental disabilities and loved their (usually) carefree and good-natured dispositions. My first assignment as a substitute teacher at Jo…
Goodness, that didn’t take long. We’re already closing in on the middle of the first month of another new year. For most, 2021 felt like a tedious extension of the calamitous year before it. Oh, 2020, I hope never to see a year of your ilk again. As usual, I…
Our baby Jeffrey snagged his wings in early November 1997, ending the brief active-duty portion of our SMA assignment. A few short months later, my husband, Randy, and I opened a bakery and sandwich shop in one of our county’s tourist hot spots. The business bustled with out-of-towners and locals.
December is replete with giving opportunities in the form of holiday presents, donations, and volunteering with myriad charitable causes, making its designation as National Giving Month apt. It’s a natural extension of Thanksgiving. Virtually anything can be a gift. Any time. *** My husband, Randy, and…
November is a month of personal celebrations and Thanksgiving, a favorite holiday. We’re prompted all month via marquees and commercials to give thanks. We shouldn’t need prompting. And it shouldn’t be a one-month effort. Granted, life isn’t easy for many. However, it usually takes little effort to find someone with…
The topics in this column tie in somehow to the death of our baby Jeffrey, as that is our connection to SMA. I’d like this column to provide even a spark of hope to others finding themselves in devastating circumstances. Consequently, I’ve purposely tried to gravitate toward a sense of…
My husband, Randy, is a beekeeper. I helped him with the bees until an unfortunate rash from a bee sting on my forehead landed me in the emergency room. My dramatic predicament likely stemmed from the combination of the bee’s momentum as she zoomed to the pasture across…
