Pushing Independence

I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the new show on the Sundance channel called Push Girls. It's a reality show about four women who are friends and who happen to use wheelchairs. It reminds me a bit of the show Switched at Birth on ABC Family in that the focus of the show is not wholly on disability. Disability happens to be a part of the women's lives, but only a part.

I asked Ronnie to watch Push Girls with me last night because I wanted him to see how independent the women are. Ronnie is used to people doing a lot for him. But if he wants to meet his goal of independent living anytime in the future, he needs to switch his perspective. I believe watching this show might help.

After the show was over, he told me he like it and thanked me for telling him about it. Whoa! Might that signal a bit of progress????

Here is a great review of the show by NPR...

Push Girls - A Fresh Take on Women Riding on 26 Inch Rims

Memorial Day

It's easy to think of Memorial Day as simply an extra day off work, a three-day weekend. But the day is meant to honor the men and women of the Armed Forces who gave their lives in the service of their country. Just saying "Thank you" seems so inadequate, but I will say it anyway.

My Cat in the Closet

**originally posted January, 2009**

I wrote last week about embracing HOPE as my theme for 2009. One of the commentors on that post and one of my favorite bloggers, Michelle Morgan-Coole, at the blog, Free Falling, shared some very honest thoughts about what hope means to her.

She said ,” Sound strange, I know, but I have come to the conclusion that hope is bad for the soul. Just my own personal experience, born from living with the seizure monsters for the past 14 years, when everytime you dare begin to hope they might actually be gone (surely close to two years without or even six months must mean something?) they return with a vengance.”

For me, the opposite is true – hope is the only thing that keeps my soul alive. It would be so easy for me to resign myself to Ashley’s special medical needs. But had I done that when I first adopted her at age 2, her doctor’s predictions probably would have come true.

She wouldn’t be walking and running. She wouldn’t be communicating. She wouldn’t be eating. She would probably not be alive.

Hope was the force that propelled me through endless hours of therapy, doctor visits and hospital stays. Hope became my belief that Ashley was very capable of becoming more than anyone else ever believed she could become. Hope is what keeps me fighting school districts and insurance companies. Hope is the battle won for ESY (Extended School Year) services. Hope is the battle won for an accessible bathroom built at insurance expense.

Hope is what allows me to dream of her future, a future filled with love, marriage, a job, and maybe even children. Hope is the comfort in my heart that says she will be ok even after I am gone.

Continuing to nurture that hope is not easy. Like Michelle said, when the seizures keep coming, even after an extended seizure-free time – when the medical conditions don’t worsen but also don’t get better – when almost everyone we meet treats Ashley as less a being than she is – finding and holding on to hope is a struggle.

But like my cat who continues to run into the same closet day after day even though she keeps getting locked in accidentally, I have to keep believing and searching.

Hope is my cat in the closet…

Project Search

It's amazing what a change in leadership has made in my school district. When I started this blog four years ago, I wrote many posts about the struggles and challenges of ensuring my children received an appropriate education. I survived complaints with our state department of education as well as a due process. It seemed every year got worse.

Then there was a major housecleaning at my school district's central office.

My recent posts about securing an appropriate education are much more positive. Like I mentioned last week, I'm even sad to see this school year end. And, a news story appeared last week that highlights even further the progress my school district has made.

The story was about something called Project Search -- a program to help connect high school students with Autism with perspective employers.

As parents of children with Autism know, finding employment after school ends is extremely difficult. In fact, according to one of the leaders of Project Search, 86% of students with Autism are unemployed after graduation. But Project Search is changing that.

Take a moment to read this story, and see what a positive difference the partnership between my school district, one of our local universities, and a private employer have made in the lives of eight students.



It's truly amazing what can be accomplished when everyone works together to ensure a good future for our children!

What a Difference a Year Makes

What a difference! Last year’s IEP meeting for Ronnie included 20 people, 2 of whom were attorneys. The meeting was contentious to say the least and ended with Ronnie’s former guardian ad litem being removed from the school premises by the county police. This year – 5 people, all smiling, all in agreement, all satisfied with the final IEP document and all the decisions that were made.

Instead of listening to the guardian ad litem talk about what a poor, mentally retarded child Ronnie was, I heard this:

• He has made such progress this year!


• The test results from before that showed he was borderline to moderately cognitively impaired were all invalid because the tests that were used were not normed for a child that was deaf.


• Any deficits he does have in reading and writing are due in part to his deafness and use of ASL and in part to his not receiving appropriate services in the past.


• He’s the happiest kid at the school!


• He wants to go to the culinary arts technical center, and we think he should.


• He’s the best basketball player on the team.


• We’re so proud of him!

Of course, Ronnie and I were both beaming through all of this.

There are going to be some changes in his program, but he and I agree that they are changes for the better. For example, my school district has had Deaf children (both oral and signing) spread throughout the county in several different schools. A new high school just opened this year (described by one person as a palace), and it will house the entire Deaf program. While I am a staunch advocate for children with disabilities going to their home schools, it does make more sense for Ronnie to be in a Deaf culture environment, an environment where he doesn’t have to struggle to communicate with his peers.

The new high school is just a little further away from our home than his current, very old, campus style school. The new school is not a campus school, meaning he will not have to contend with hilly sidewalks and bad weather while traveling about the campus in his chair. All his Deaf friends that currently attend the current school with him will also be moving to the new school.

He is excited and so am I. He is also going to tour the school and report back to the administration staff where any improvements in accessibility can be made. We also agreed that he would create a year-long project involving students with disabilities, and that as a result of that project, he would apply to be a delegate to our state’s Youth Leadership Forum next summer.

Oh, and he also said he is ready to learn to drive!!!

Fun times ahead, and I am so very proud of him!!!

Caught My Eye

Here are some news stories that caught my eye this week. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

Miami Gallery Allows Hands On Art to the Blind

New Technology Allows Deaf and Blind to Experience Movie Theatre

Beeping Easter Egg Hunt

Disability Prepared Project from the University of Kansas

And finally, this video from the Academy of Country Music Awards which was held last weekend. Get out your tissues....

Soup with Goldfish Crackers

My friend, Lynnette, is a single parent to a beautiful daughter named Brooke. Brooke has severe disabilities and lives each day with a trach and a ventilator. She goes to her neighborhood school and has nursing support while at school, and for a few hours each Saturday. Other than those times, Lynnette is her only caregiver.

Lynnette works full-time at a school that serves children with severe disabilities. She has dedicated her life to caring for the most fragile children, children who like Brooke, have smiles that light the world and needs that often seem overwhelming.

Oh, and Lynnette has multiple sclerosis.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I'm going to ask each of you a favor.

Lynnette, as you can imagine, has to take a lot of time off from work. Mostly the time off is for Brooke's doctor's appointments, but often the time is for her own doctor's appointments. It doesn't take long at all for all Lynnette's school leave time to be exhausted. She is now in the situation of having to take leave without pay. Her paychecks are hundreds of dollars short each time. Imagine for a moment how difficult that must be for a single parent. But Lynnette, like most of us parents of children with significant disabilities, has her priorities and nothing, not even lost pay, will stand in the way of caring for her daughter.

Ok, here comes the favor.

Twice a year, Lynnette's school has a contest to see who can collect the most Campbell's Soup Label points. The winner gets a full day off. That is like manna from heaven to Lynnette.

So I need your labels! We need to make sure that Lynnette gets that day off - and that her burden is lightened, if only just for a day. And in the process of helping Lynnette, we will also be helping her school and the precious children that attend there.

The labels are on every type of Campbell's soups. The Soup At Hand ones have 5 points each. The regular soup cans have 1 point each. And recently I found some boxes of Goldfish crackers that have 100 points each!!

I will gladly reimburse anyone for sending me labels. If you are able to help, email me (email link is on the right side of my blog), and then I will send you my address.

Thank you in advance for considering my request!

Oodles of Ologists

In the last couple of weeks, we've been to a neurologist, a rheumatologist, a nephrologist, and an urologist. I'm really tired of ologists...

But a lot of good has come out of all those visits.

Ashley's seizures are slightly more controlled. She started on a new medication and had an old one removed. The new med seems to be doing a good job, and she's not even up to full dose on it yet. In addition to fewer seizures, she also seems to feel much better which makes her happier. Score one for the neurologist.

Ronnie saw a new nephrologist and reports are good. His kidney disease is stable - not better but not worse either. The doctor thought Ronnie looked very healthy and is encouraged that we can keep a kidney transplant at bay for quite a while longer. Score one for the nephrologist.

Ronnie also saw his urologist. The bladder surgery he had last summer has improved his overall health, and is no longer a contributing factor to his kidney disease. Score one for the urologist.

My rheumatologist has tweaked my lupus and rheumatoid arthitis medications a bit, and I can already see a little positive change. Score one for the rheumatologist.

Okay, so maybe ologists aren't so bad after all!!

Memorial Day - 2010

Voice of The Fallen
by Alex Kaye

far away a voice is calling
someone long ago, who’s fallen
I listen hard and hear it say
hear me on memorial day

under the colors, of a flag true
I fought a war and died for you
oh listen to me when I say
hear me on memorial day

you knew not me, I knew not you
the war I fought was just, and true
I knew just what I had to do
the duty of a chosen few

oh listen mother, hear me dad
don’t be angry. don’t be sad
war is dark, notorious
but the goal was glorious

listen to me, hear me say
I died for freedom on that day
I did not die in vanity
I died for all humanity

and as I lay here, dying, dying
I think I hear some voices crying
I think I hear my mom and dad
but no, these voices are not sad

I thought, I’s sure my fate was sealed
I thought I felt the killing steel
I watch the battle from the ground
I only see, I hear no sound

how things are clear. a perfect sense
the struggle of the innocence
oh if I’d known before the war
it is the same side we fight for

I was only just a knave
but my heart was strong, and brave
the duty of a chosen few
I did just what I had to do

sometimes I’m your brother older
sometimes I’m the unknown soldier
if I could only make you see
we all are one, humanity

through the silence hear me say
remember on memorial day
remember what this day is for
remember me, and stop all war

Ronald, Meet Ronald

Saturday we all attended the 2010 Connections Resource Fair at our local Children's Museum. Connections is all about resources - healthcare resources, camps, therapy, intensive behavioral supports, assistance animals, insurance - you name it, and it was probably there.

Started several years ago as a small operation to link families of children with special needs to community resources, it has grown exponentially, and this year was the most well attended ever. So well attended, in fact, that I believe they may have to consider larger venues for future events.

Besides being a great place to learn about resources, it's also wonderful to see all the other families and children. It's almost like a huge support group meeting!

The highlights for us this year were talking to some folks about new video phone technology, Victory Game athletic events, Miracle League baseball, hearing dog programs, and our all-time favorite therapeutic horseback riding. And, we had a wonderful interpreter who stayed with us the whole time we were there! Here are a few pictures to give you a glimpse into the fun:



Ashley was fascinated by the horse's hooves...



And Ronald liked how strong the horse's muscles were.



'Milking' the fake cow was fun!



But nothing topped Ronald meeting Ronald!

Angels With A Van

There are some very good and caring people in this world, and I have been blessed to meet so many of them. I met another of life’s angels this past weekend.

If you checked out the link to the newspaper story about Ronnie coming home last week, you may have noticed that there was a side bar that mentioned our need of a handicapped accessible van. When I knew Ronnie would be joining our family, I began checking out vans, and quickly found that the high price tag was too much for me. Even the used vans with high mileage were still in the $30-40,000 range. I could get a ten year loan for one, but just the thought of paying $500-600 a month for the next ten years made me physically sick. I even doubted that the vans I saw would last 10 years.

What I did instead was install a wheelchair carrier on my car. It’s not an ideal solution, but it also wasn’t a ten year expense. I got a grill cover to bungee over the chair when it rains, and things have worked out so far. But a van would still be a better solution.

After the article appeared in the paper, my social worker received several phone calls from folks who had used vans to sell. Most were like the ones I saw at the van dealers – old and with high mileage. But one was different.

The Tate family called about their van and it sounded perfect. Although it is 10 years old, it only has 30,000 miles on it. The Tates bought it from an older couple who had hoped to travel in the van, but things didn’t work out. Mr. Tate had the original window sticker from the van and it cost $60,000! The Tates bought it, installed a large lift on the rear of the van, and have used it for several years now. But, their circumstances have changed and they are looking for a new van. Mr. Tate called my social worker and said I could have it for the amount of the loan payoff – just $12,000!

The van is a Dodge high top conversion van with leather, heated, and vibrating seats. (Why does someone need vibrating seats in a vehicle?). It has a TV and a VCR, which Chip thinks he can switch to a DVD player. It’s huge and has more than enough space for my family, and the lift on the back of the van could probably lift my whole family standing on it!

I still have to work out financing, and am hopeful my loan request will get approved. If it does, life will get a lot easier for all of us, all thanks to the Tate family!

A Tale of Two - Part 2

Just three miles from the ‘hospital’ I described in yesterday’s post is another facility. This one has ‘home’ not ‘hospital’ in its name, and that is one of the first indications that things are very different.

Although this home is also a facility for children with the most severe disabilities, it’s not a warehouse, not a scary place, not a place for neighborhood children to fear. It is a place where parents and some social service agencies place their children, children who need more care than parents are capable of providing. To me, it seems more like a nursing home, but not the horrible nursing homes that appear frequently in news stories.

The staff at this facility honestly and truly care for the children. They make the facility experience as home-like as possible, and go out of their way to provide a lifetime of positive experiences for the children. The attend trainings regularly to stay abreast of the best ways to educate and care for the children in the home. They call in experts in different disabilities, people who can offer ideas for positive change and improved care. In fact, many of the staff have children with disabilities themselves.

To further contrast this home with yesterday’s hospital, let’s go back to the child that passed away. Yesterday I described a callous, uncaring attitude towards the child that passed away. Unfortunately, due to the significance of their disabilities, some children who live in the home have also passed away. But how the staff handles those passings speaks volumes.

Not long ago, a child that had lived at the home for many years passed away. His mother was very, very poor but somehow managed to get to the home to visit with her son each day. Even during the heavy snow and with no buses running, the child’s mother would walk several miles to see her son. His passing was an extremely sad event for everyone, including the staff at the home. But, the young man was not rushed away – his belongings were not piled haphazardly in the middle of his stripped bed. Rather, his body was removed with the respect it deserved and his bed was made up, just as it would be every day that he lived there. A white blanket, called an ‘Angel Blanket’ by the staff, was folded across his bed. Then a basket filled with notecards and pens was placed on the bed so staff and friends could come by and write notes to the boy’s mother.

This was a child who was deeply loved and missed. This was a child who was respected. This is the type of facility and the group of people that I would want for my child if they unthinkable happened and I needed to place her there.

This is a facility that doesn’t deserve to be called an institution. Rather, it is a home just as its name implies. And I am thankful that such a place exists for those that need it.

Making a Difference

he⋅ro  /heer-oh/ –noun, plural -roes; a person of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his/her brave deeds and noble qualities.

Since adopting Ashley, Jessica and Corey, I have met many heroes:

• The birthmother who turned and walked away, giving Ashley a chance at the life she deserved


• The judge who gave me custody of Corey though I had no home study, no background check, and no one other than Corey's relatives to say I would be a good mother for him


• The therapist who helped me realize that the only way I could make things better for Jessica was to turn over her day-to-day care to professionals


• The teachers along the way who have refused to waiver, even under the pointed stares of supervisors


• The doctors who believed Ashley could not only live, but flourish


• The friends who believe in me and my choices when most people think I've lost my mind


• The attorneys who fought for Ashley's rights as if she were their child


• The due process hearing officer who looked me in my eyes after the hearing and told me 'Good luck'


• and the social workers who didn't laugh when I said I was ready to adopt again

Our children draw out the hero hidden in many people. Who are the heroes in your child's life?

Easier Because of You

I’m a glass half full person, but that has not always been the case. I mentioned a while back on my blog that I used to be a police officer. For 5 years I worked in the worst areas of my city and witnessed things no one should see. One of the many things that broke my heart were the children that had been abused by their parents. But that was just one of the many horrors that I saw every week as an officer.

Living that day in and day out began to turn me into a very cynical person, and I really did not like the person I was becoming. It was that reason I decided police work was not for me. And ever since then I have made the commitment to myself to have a more positive outlook on life.

It’s not always easy. I am not a Pollyana/Stepford person who turns a blind eye to the suffering in the world, the negative situations that all of us face at times. Stories of child or elder abuse still disgust me – natural disasters and the effects they have on hundreds of thousands of people make me want to jump a plane to go help - news of the poor economy worries me greatly – and the increasing violence in the world scares me more than I can say.

But with maturity I have learned to balance the bad news with the good that exists in the world. And while I don’t ignore that which is negative, I have made a conscious decision to live and project a more positive life. To accomplish that, often I must distance myself from people who have chosen a more negative approach to life.

I continue to surround myself with other glass half full people, people whose approach to life mirrors mine. I had a difficult time finding people like that until I became the parent of a child with a disability.

With a very few exceptions, I have found that parents of children with disabilities approach life with smiles not frowns. These are people who have every right to be negative, but they too have chosen to walk a positive path. I don’t know why this seems to be true. Maybe we feel we need to be positive to balance all the negative comments and low expectations we fear our children will face. Or maybe we realize that we can’t navigate this world of disability alone and we choose community over isolation. Whatever the reason, I want you all to know that you lift me up – you provide the inspiration I need to continue when life gets difficult – you link your arms in mine when I stand on the cliff of despair.

So thank you Lynnette, Jane, Jackie, Bradford, Heike, Emily, Carl and Elaine. Thank you Mommy Dearest, Attila, Marla, Mama Edge, Corrie, and Azaera. Thank you Mike and Dawn, Terri, MMC and Terena. Thank you Queenbuv3, and thank you everyone that I missed.

You make being a glass half full person much much easier!

Patrick Henry Hughes

Some of you may have seen this remarkable young man on Extreme Makeover Home Edition. I watched the show and fell in love with Patrick and his wonderful family. My brother shared this latest video featuring Patrick with me and now I want to share it with you. It's a great way to end the week on a positive note!

Happy long weekend, everyone!

They Came, They Talked - Did Anyone Listen?

Hundreds of people showed up, some as early as 4am on a morning where the temperature was only 13 degrees. At 8am, they started getting the numbers that would indicate the order in which they could share their stories. By noon, the start time of the hearing, even the term standing room only couldn’t describe the crowd.

Monday, January 11th, was the day that the Virginia General Assembly said they would listen to the concerns of those opposed to balancing the state’s budget by cutting services to people with disabilities. The hearing started promptly at noon, and based on the number of people scheduled to give three minute testimonies, the hearing was going to last well into the night. I got number 168, and just by doing the math, that meant around 8pm.

There were parents – and caregivers – and service providers – and doctors – and teachers – and preachers. Brothers, sisters, parents, and friends. There were people with disabilities – people in wheelchairs, people with braces supporting their bodies, people with white canes, and people who could only get three sentences out in their allotted three minute speaking time. All shared the same message – please do not make the lives of people whose lives are already difficult any worse.

They begged to keep respite hours. They cried as they talked of their family members who were aggressive. They voices became a whisper of worry when talking about what would happen to their most fragile of loves. They were defiant and proud and it was obvious that they were also uncomfortable having to beg to keep their lives afloat.

Did it make a difference? We won’t know for a couple of months, but given the dire straits of the budget situation, I don’t have much hope. I do hope that the assembly members listened and really heard the stories today. If a difference can’t be made immediately, maybe it can be made in the future.

And to a person, the most important statement everyone shared was – we do not need another institution….please divert those funds to the community supports that will keep people with disabilities with their friends and their families.

Please keep Virginia, its people with disabilities, their friends and families, and the General Assembly members who hold fate in their hands in your prayers.

Social Services - Part 2

I left the social services office with a very heavy heart. I knew from my years as a police officer that a lot, a whole lot, of bad stuff happens to children. In fact, seeing so much of that was one of the reasons I decided police work could not be a career for me. But seeing it again at the social services office had no less of an impact than when I was an officer.

During the meeting with Corey’s social worker, she told me that the health department, just two buildings away, might have H1N1 shots available. My children have appointments this coming Monday for their shots, but I have not been able to find one yet. So, I decided to give the health department a try.

As I approached the building, I noticed a father and his twenty-something daughter also heading into the building. The daughter had some obvious physical disabilities – I would guess cerebral palsy – but she was able to walk, albeit very slowly and carefully, next to her father. The almost vacant, innocent look in her eyes and the expression on her face led me to believe that she also had cognitive impairments.

They entered the building ahead of me, and once greeted by the receptionist (and I use the term greeted very loosely), the father said, “My daughter, Louella, needs a flu shot.” The receptionist said, “We are only giving flu shots to pregnant women. Is she pregnant?” Louella’s father said, “If I say yes, can she get the shot?” The receptionist said, “Like I said, we are only giving shots to pregnant women.” Louella’s father said, “Well then, she’s pregnant.”

Louella seemed to find this exchange quite funny, and when she looked at her father and grinned, the room seemed to light up like the sun bursting forth after a week of rain. Her father returned her gaze and the love in his eyes seemed to say, “Don’t worry Baby Girl – Daddy will take care of you.”

The nurse was called to administer the shot. Louella stood very still and strong while her father wrapped his arm around her waist. He thanked the nurse when she was done, and I swear, if he had a hat on, he would have tipped it.

Louella’s father offered her his arm. She linked hers in his and they left the building. I knew I wasn’t going to get a shot that day, so I left after them. As they were walking back to their car, Louella’s father said, “I love you, Lou.” She looked at him and I knew he understood that she was communicating similar feelings.

As they pulled away in their car, I noticed their license plate. It read, “ILOVELOU”.

Today I am thankful that when my heart is heavy, God chooses to lighten it with a very special message.

Thankful Thursday

Loucendia, a state employee like me and a participant on the same deafblind advisory council that I am on, awoke yesterday morning and prepared to report for work. Like me, she probably got herself ready, attended to her family – making lunches and breakfast – making sure everyone was good to go for the day – and then she made the drive to our downtown area. She parked in the newest of our state-owned parking decks, and began the walk to her office building, one building over from mine. The walk is one that hundreds of state employees make each day, but it is also one that requires crossing a very busy street in them middle of rush hour.

As Lou attempted to cross the street, a crossing marked by the flashing “WALK” sign as safe for a pedestrian, she was struck by a city transit bus and was killed.

The investigation is still continuing, and no answers have yet been given for this horrible tragedy. It weighs so very heavily on my mind and in my heart, and has made this Thankful Thursday post extremely significant for me.

Today, a day for which none of us have any promises, a day which could have started as inconsequential as Lou’s probably did yesterday, a day which could bring unheralded tragedy, is a day I am driven to give even stronger thanks than usual. And, as a direct result of the tragic end to Lou’s life, I have decided to take a different approach to giving thanks publicly on this blog.

I will not be posting Thankful Thursday after today. What I will be doing is making a statement at the end of every blog post that I write – a statement of thanks for whatever stirs in my heart at that moment. I have decided that giving thanks publicly should be a daily proclamation, and not confined to just one day a week.

Today, I am thankful…

• for the smile on Ashley’s face this morning when I woke her and she looked into my eyes


• that my adult son still comes into my bedroom each night and signs “I love you” before he goes to sleep


• that Jessica calls me every night, even if it just to tell me what she had for dinner


• that Corey is healthy and happy, and that his life is not the hell it was for the first 12 years of living


• for my brother and his beautiful daughter, Melody


• for my special friends – friends who are just a call or glance away – friends who understand me and still like me – friends like Lynnette, Amy, Jackie, Sharon, Mike and Don


• for people like Lou, people who choose to make a difference for children


• for the material blessings in my life – a home, three meals a day, healthcare, and a job that allows me to provide for my children


• and for the ability and rights that I enjoy, including writing this blog

Rest in peace, Lou.

Rest In Peace, Dear Man

He was a 1960’s neighbor – the kind of over-the-fence chats for 45 minutes instead of a wave from across the street. He watched over my family while I watched over him. From the window in one of my bedrooms I could see him sitting on his sun porch. When we happened to realize that the other was looking, we would both grin and wave.

When I first met him eleven years ago, his dear wife was stepping towards Alzheimer’s, and he was photographing every moment in his mind. They were both in their late 70’s and had been married since they were 17 years old. They were two hearts and two souls joined in the way the rest of us dream about.

On July 4th several years ago, he lost his other heart, and from that point on his smiles were few and far between. But, they were always there for me and my family.

He needed a little help, and I needed to help. Every time I sent a meal to him, he would return the empty dishes filled with candy for my children. I planted the flowers in his front garden, and he watered them religiously. Together we attended the funerals of other neighbors, and for a special treat, he loved to take my family to lunch at Red Lobster.

In recent years, I watched his health decline, but he stubbornly refused to give in to infirmity. He was hard-headed and constantly told me to stop helping him so much, but I knew he secretly enjoyed the attention and companionship. He remembered what life was like in the slower, quieter past. He remembered a time of neighbor helping neighbor. He possessed the gentleman gene, and although it was difficult for him to rely on others, he eventually realized the need.

Just four short weeks ago, he was diagnosed with brain cancer, an insipid beast that would send him to be with his wife sooner rather than later. The doctors told him there was no hope and that he had two weeks to two months into which to pack the rest of his life. The first week wasn’t too bad. The second got a little worse, and by the third and fourth, he just wanted to go. He was tired, sick, in pain, and feeling like a burden to everyone.

This morning, he got his wish. Mr. Ed Baldwin took his last drugged and pain-free breath at 6:55 am. He was reunited with his lovely wife, Dot, and I will miss him very, very much.

HeartAbility

I originally wrote about HeartAbility for 5 Minutes For Special Needs back in April, and this is an update on how things are going...

So often these days, I see news reports about people getting arrested for shoplifting food. I have to believe it is because the economic crisis has impacted so many families and left them desperate. But in an effort to help, my youngest daughter, Ashley, is trying to make a difference.

Ashley has a canvas bag on which she painted a big red heart. Each week, I give her $10.00 to go to the grocery store to buy non-perishable foods. We then drive to our local food bank to drop off the food. Ashley even helps stack what she bought on the food bank shelves.

Even though Ashley is deafblind, currently has three brain tumors, needs a wheelchair for long distances, and has 2-3 seizures each day, she is a perfect example of how all our children, regardless of their level of ability, can make a difference for people in need.

But this is not just a one way street. While Ashley is in the grocery store, she is learning to find items without any vision. She is learning the concept of exchanging money for goods and services. She is learning math and how to ensure she gets the right change. She is learning the value of her money, and she is honing her communication skills. And most importantly, she is learning that we must all take responsibility to make our world a better place.

Ashley is making a difference, and I ask that each of you also consider encouraging and assisting your children to make a difference. I would love to hear your ideas or what you and your children are already doing. If anyone is interested in starting a HeartAbility effort in their town, just let me know. I can provide promotional material and graphics.

I just really don’t want to hear any more stories about people stealing food…