Author Archives: Helen Baldwin

My days growing up in Fort Worth, Texas, are chock-full of fond memories, like waiting in line at Mrs. Baird’s Bakery to talk to Santa. He was the real deal, not some measly helper. The heavenly aroma of bread baking was proof that Mrs. Claus was bustling in…

Because my husband, Randy, and I had neither furniture nor money when we got married, we lived in furnished apartments for the first couple of years. We purchased the furniture in one of our last apartments for a ridiculously low price. When we bought our first house, my…

I don’t know what it is about the end of daylight saving time that rustles my brain when the sun goes down. Maybe it’s because we think of secretive things emerging at night, and now it gets dark at 5:30. As time backed up this month,…

The insidious nature of SMA type 1 that was affecting our baby Jeffrey intensified in October 1997. While relatively calm moments occasionally appeared after a disastrous pulmonary consultation earlier in the month, Jeffrey began experiencing respiratory distress to the point of needing morphine. My frazzled…

My late mother, an accomplished pianist named JoAnn Derden, used to perform double-piano concerts with her sister, who insisted that the music — intricate, demanding classics — be memorized. Mom begrudgingly obliged. When those stressful days ended, Mom enjoyed improvising and playing two-piano music with me…

It’s officially fall in the U.S.! The weather here in the North Carolina mountains has been stupendous. I could almost hear our assorted fans breathe a collective sigh of relief when we finally turned them off at times and even closed some windows at night to keep from…

I spent a small fortune on cute books for the kindergarteners I taught at Brockman School, then a self-contained public school in Columbia, South Carolina. The students, many with severe disabilities, delighted in hearing the animated voices of the stories I read to them. My own…

Sunday afternoon’s dreary skies and light rain tempted me mightily to crawl onto the recliner and drift right off. I doubt I could’ve counted to 10 before unconscious bliss took over — momentarily, anyway. It was also a dreary day for our older dog, Maple, a boxer…

For years, slogans with the “F-bomb” (for a certain expletive) have expressed utter contempt for catastrophic diseases, social injustices, or whatever else riles folks up. The first such campaign I remember was about cancer. I certainly didn’t disagree with the desire to eliminate the ravages of the disease, but…

When I was growing up in Fort Worth, Texas, our family vacations were precious getaways. Time and money constraints kept us primarily in Texas, but there was plenty to do. During one summer trip to south Texas, we walked across the border to Mexico on a dreadfully…