baytownproject - Tumblr blog

[baytownproject]

“I was in my late 20s, and I was having real bad headaches, muscle problems, stiffness, and some paralysis on my left side. I ended up in the hospital. They didn’t know if it was polio or encephalitis. It was a tough thing to go through. But finally, as I was recuperating, the doctor wanted me to do some physical therapy. He asked what kinds of sports I liked. I named half a dozen things, because I’ve always stayed active. When I mentioned I’d been bowling a few times he said, ‘That’s what I want you to do.’ It was good exercise, using different muscles. So that’s where it started. The first game I ever bowled was a 69, and I said, ‘This will never do. I can do better than this.’ I’m very competitive. So I joined a Tuesday ladies league. That was in 1962, when you could bowl three games for about a dollar and a half. It was a lot of fun. And I’ve been bowling regularly for more than 60 years. I feel like I’ve made some contributions along the way. I really enjoyed the coaching aspect. I taught bantam, junior and senior bowling classes, and I was a bowling instructor at Lee College. I’ve met so many interesting people. Bowling has meant a lot to me: friendship, camaraderie, participation, challenge, competition. It’s been my second home, so to speak. These days, I normally bowl just on Mondays. But I’m also filling in on another night for a lady that had surgery. I used to bowl a lot more often. Except, Saturday was for doing the washing, mopping and catching up on chores at home, and Sunday was for church. You know, everybody’s life follows a stream one way or another. I’m just glad mine went this way. I don’t plan to stop anytime soon. As long as I don’t wake up with a tag on my toe, I’m going to bowl.”

— Dot Sitton, 89

During her career, Dot bowled numerous 200-plus games and 600-plus series. She was president and secretary of Baytown Women’s Bowling Association, and served in other roles on local, state and national levels. Dot received the Hall of Fame Award from Baytown’s combined women’s and men’s bowling association. She also is fondly remembered as the longtime bowling lanes DJ for Rock ’n Bowl and Kikker Bowl nights.

[baytownproject]

“Alicia was my fourth child, my littlest one. She was like a little porcelain doll. We pretty much centered ourselves around her. She was my kids’ pride and joy. She wanted anything, she got it. She was going to turn 2 last July. Then in May, we lost her. She drowned. It didn’t feel real. Like, I had her, then she was gone. We had recently started going to church. We felt like we were fixing our lives. Then this happened. But I felt like we got a sign from God to keep going. Like, her story doesn’t end here. She’s not here physically, but it doesn’t mean she’s not still with us. That’s when I got the idea to make a blessing box. Something we could do for the community, in her memory.

“My husband and I used to work in the refineries, and we made two decent paychecks. But they didn’t last for anything. We struggled buying diapers and formula. So it started with asking people to donate things like that for moms and dads and grandparents taking care of young kids. Now it’s grown to all sorts of food items and necessities. And the response has been great. The community is showing they really care. Whatever goes in the box belongs to whoever grabs it, whoever needs it. A lady across the street says it helps her every single day to feed her kids and have diapers for them. That’s what it’s all about. It’s made an impression on my kids, too. They get excited seeing people drop off stuff, and they have a better appreciation for those needing help.

“There are times when we all just sit down and cry. We really miss our little girl. But through this whole experience, I feel like we’ve gotten so much closer to God. I hope nobody else has to go through what we’ve gone through. I hope I bear all the burden and all the hurt and all the sorrow and all the grief for any other mother. Maybe this is not the testimony that I wanted, but I feel like this is going to help somebody else later on down the road.”

— Roxanna Castillo

The Alicia’s Blessings cabinet is located at 1003 E. James in Baytown. It’s available 24/7 for dropoffs and pickups.

[baytownproject]

“I’m not a fast learner or academically gifted or as talented as other people here at Lee College. But I try very hard. I failed a math course last semester. I tried. I even got help from a professor, but I still failed. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fail college. People might expect me to drop out or not be in college at all. But I’m going to change that perspective, that expectation, for people like me with autism or any other kind of disability. I’m very thankful for the disabilities department here and my tutor, Ms. Claire. She’s an amazing person. She helps me with my class assignments. She’s always encouraging and supportive. She motivates me when I may be exhausted or discouraged from life as a college student. And she always reminds me how unique I am compared to other students. Being a college student isn’t easy. But it’s worth it if one day, I’ll be on that stage graduating. I’ll be able to say, ‘I made it.’ I want to do it for myself. But I also want to do it for my parents. They always made me feel special, and that I can do anything I put my mind to. I want to make them proud. My dad won’t be here to see it, but I know he’ll be looking down on me when I cross that stage with my diploma. I love sports, and I’d love to become a coach one day. Or maybe a motivational speaker. Inspiring and motivating people is something that I always try to do. To keep that fire burning. I try to share positive quotes with people. I try to encourage them in whatever they’re doing. I think it’s important. Because sometimes, we all need that. Especially nowadays. I think we’re in dark times. We need more people who like to help you up when you’re feeling down. Some people may think that if you’re autistic, you can’t go anywhere, you can’t do anything with your life. I want to prove those people wrong. Being autistic is challenging. But it’s also a gift. It isn’t going to stop me from being the person I want to be, or helping the people I want to help.”

— Roberto (Berto) Nunez Jr.

[baytownproject]

“I was diagnosed with autism when I was 6 years old. My dad didn’t really understand what autism was. I asked, ‘Is there something wrong with me?’ My mom said, ‘No. It just means that you’re special. It means that you’re unique, not like everyone else.’ Because I liked cartoons and stuff, it was explained to me that I was like the Wolverine in X-Men. Like, that’s my super power. Growing up was challenging, just trying to make friends and fitting in. Some people were mean. In junior high, kids would call me weirdo, ugly, all kinds of things. It was hard. But that’s where I met coach (Scott) Griffin. He was a football coach. He’s the man who found me and started helping me. He looked at me as a person, not an autistic person. When I got to high school, things were different. I got a chance to be manager for the Goose Creek Memorial football team. Coach (Bret) Boyd was really supportive, and the players were all good to me. I started making friends. People started liking me for me. And I cared about them. I felt like they were my brothers. They were my family. I was also team manager for basketball and baseball, all four years. It made me feel important. For the first time, it made me feel special. I felt like I had meaning in my life. I had a purpose. It was everything to me. Then when I began taking classes at Lee College, coach (Nick) Wade let me start helping out with the basketball team. It was after COVID, and I was trying to get back on my feet again socially. This was also the time when my dad had a heart attack. One day we got a call from the hospital, and they said we better come. He’s dying. That was awful. It still makes me sad to talk about. But all the coaches and the guys on the basketball team were so supportive. They were worried for me. If they weren’t there for me during that time, I don’t know where I would be. I’m so thankful to coach Wade. He gave me a team to be part of again. He gave me a family again.”

— Roberto (Berto) Nunez Jr.

[baytownproject]

“When I was young, I wanted to be an OBGYN. I wanted to be there when babies were born. There used to be a show on Lifetime called ‘Birth Day.’ I watched it with my mom, on repeat. I learned all the terms they used in the delivery room. I wrote them down in a little journal. Like, I could tell you exactly what Pitocin was, and how it sped up labor.

“When I decided not to go to med school and pursue nursing instead, I found information about becoming a doula. I was so intrigued by what they do, I got certified at 18. Then I was like, ‘Who’s going to hire me? I’m not a mom. I’ve never been in labor.’ But I started sitting with a lot of moms during the labor process while I was in school. Then I learned about postpartum doulas. Someone who comes home with you after you give birth and is there as frequently as you want them to be. They help take care of baby. They teach you all these new things about this little person, and also about your changing body. So I learned about that, and it just took off for me. I absolutely loved it, and I launched my postpartum business fulltime. I aim to serve low-income moms, marginalized communities, teen moms.

“Also, we talk about social determinants of health and how some children might be more prone to abuse. We need to watch these things. If a child is born into a household where there's abuse, where mom's on a fixed income, and they don't have a support system, then this child will most likely have health effects later in life. So let's fix it at the source. Somebody be there with mom and educate her on how to make it through these tough times. Teach her how to parent. Teach her how to build a stable household for her child. That will negate some of these negative effects that may come later on.

“My slogan is, ‘Hold the mother.’ Everybody comes over to the house, and they want to hold the baby. But who holds mom?”

— Carleigh Joseph Olivas

[baytownproject]

“As a social worker, opportunities to make a difference in people’s lives are limitless. I got my feet wet in an internship with Your New Beginning. It’s for people with court-ordered counseling for drug offenses or domestic violence offenses. I challenged myself by working with domestic violence offenders. Their sessions were for 18 weeks, but I had guys stay in my class for 30-40 weeks. They were like, ‘We just need to talk to you every week.’ I built such a bond with them. Then I was like, what else can I challenge myself to do? That’s when an opportunity came to work with the homeless population. I met them where they were, on the street. I did everything I could for them, like see them housed and help them get some income. People always say, ‘Take a walk in my shoes.’ I feel like I’m able to do that. When I meet someone, I want to see life from their perspective. I want to understand all the emotions that they feel: every hardship, every joy. I told my homeless and domestic violence individuals, ‘I know when people see you, they have a preconceived notion about who you are. I don’t have that. I’m a blank slate. I’m non-judgmental. Tell me everything. I want to see things from your perspective.’ My domestic violence clients would just be getting out of jail and coming back into society. And they would say, ‘I can’t get a job. Once they see felon on my record, once they see jail on my record, I’m just cast away.’ Same with some of my homeless individuals. They would be like, ‘People don’t know that I had a master’s degree. They don’t know that I had a family. They don’t know that I never touched a drug in my life. I’m just on hard times.’ Those experiences really motivated me to continue to be a blank slate for people. I like for them to be able to tell their own story, and realize that sometimes the pen is in their hand. If they want to write a better story for themselves, then they have the freedom to do that.”

— Carleigh Joseph Olivas

[baytownproject]

“Grief doesn’t just bring tears. It enters your heart, your bones, your spirit, every movement and breath you take. Losing our daughter Cynthia Dawn’s fiancé, Daniel Blanchard, in 2019 to mesothelioma brought such agony to his parents, Edward and Maria Blanchard, and their family, as well as heartbreak to ours. The Blanchards suffered a loss no parent wants to experience, and Dawn faced the loss of the love of her life. Then on Jan. 26, 2022, the unthinkable agony of grief hit again with our family and the Blanchards. Our Cynthia Dawn, our Wonder Woman, who had lived 27 years with devastating disease, gave her last breath as one of her favorite songs played, ‘Magic,’ by Olivia Newton-John. Our two families were again joined by the grief of losing a child. In the days following Dawn’s death, my husband, Charlie, our youngest daughter, Carrie, and I barely functioned. All we could do was put one foot in front of the other. All we could ask one another was, ‘What do we do now?’ In an attempt to do something other than cry, Charlie and I started making earrings. It was something we had done prior to the COVID pandemic. We had even attended events where we sold them. Creating became therapeutic. It was as if wire and beads became a guide to help us move forward. One day Carrie said, ‘You have so many of them now. Why don’t you give them away, because the act of giving is healing.’ That is how our project we’ve titled ‘4 Cynthia Dawn’ began. We knew Dawn and Daniel wouldn’t want to be remembered for their illnesses. They were two people filled with so much life and accomplishment. That is the story they would want told. It is an inspiring story of moving forward when life is doing everything it can to stop you. So we give away the earrings we make with hope that whomever receives them will share the story, be encouraged when they wear them, or perhaps pass the gift on to someone else who needs encouragement. Dawn and Daniel’s story is one of love, passion to move forward, to not give up or give in to despair.”

— Susie Clevenger

[baytownproject]

“When Jordan was in elementary school, she raised over $1,000 for the American Heart Association. It was through the Jump Rope for Heart activity. She was the top fundraiser in her school. Based on that, and as someone who shows initiative and good character, she was nominated as a Teen of Impact for our area. She’s competing with seven other kids in the Houston area. She gets to run her own campaign. She picked team members, like family and friends, and she’ll be doing events and asking for donations to support the American Heart Association. It’s important to her and to our family. My dad had a stroke and then open-heart surgery before he passed. His brother, my uncle, died in his sleep from heart disease. They were both pretty young, still in their 50s. So we have a history of that in our family, and that kind of encouraged Jordan to want to raise money in memory of her papa, David Mourer, and her uncle, Chris. It’s also an opportunity for her to do something that a lot of kids her age don’t get to do. She’s 13 and is in seventh grade at Cedar Bayou. And she’s very excited to be doing something that kind of feels adult. Something that can really make a difference in people’s lives.”

— Abbey Mourer

Jordan is active in theater at school, and enjoys playing softball and doing crafts. If you would like to support her campaign, learn more on her Teen of Impact page.

[baytownproject]

“After the divorce, I decided that our house was going to be way too big for my family in a couple years. My kids were going to be out, and it would be this five-bedroom home with just me. We talked about selling it right then, but decided to hang on to it a few more years. I didn't have a grand plan for what I would do or where I would go. But I did love the Hill Country, and always dreamed of living there. I’m big into nature. Before I became a teacher, I worked for environmental agencies and nonprofits. So I wanted to be where I had easier access to state parks and stuff that I really love. When my boyfriend, Eric Anderson, and I started dating, that was something we had in common. We talked about moving in this direction once our kids were a little older. Then I heard about an opening in Dripping Springs ISD, and I was offered a position at the middle school doing yearbook. When I got the job, Eric suggested that we look for an RV park and buy an RV. Since I love camping and being outdoors, that sounded great. So I came up here and went to like 12 different RV parks, and I found this beautiful little place. The way it’s laid out reminds me of a state park. I love that I now spend so much more time out in nature. With a small space, you live very minimalistically, and you don't stay inside a lot. You get out. You go hiking. We cook our meals, and bring them outside to eat. We set up a projector outside for movie nights. I used to get the itch to go camping all the time. I'd watch the weather and try to plan things, so I could pack my stuff quickly and go on weekends. But I don't feel the urge to do that so often now because I live only 15 minutes from Pedernales Falls State Park. If I want to go, I just go. It was difficult to part with the house. It was in the family so many years. It's where I grew up and my kids grew up. But it was time for a change for us and for the kids. We wanted to shake things up, get them out of their comfort zone, and be a model for taking risks and trying new things. We just love it.”

— Laurie Adcox Haffelfinger

Both of their daughters moved into the same RV park, living in their own places. “We’re all right there in a little triangle together.”

[baytownproject]

“I think people sometimes imagine what it would be like to get a cancer diagnosis. I always imagined I would be really upset, and break down and cry. The most upsetting part was talking to my children. But with the actual diagnosis and the prospect of chemotherapy, I just felt determined to do what the doctors and my family advised. I sort of surrendered control of the situation to them.”

The dull ache in her stomach was actually colon cancer. Following surgery, she completed six months of chemotherapy. Because it was a Lynch syndrome cancer that increased her odds of developing ovarian or endometrial (uterus) cancers, a total hysterectomy was next. Unfortunately, her intestine was nicked during that surgery, which led to sepsis. A followup repair procedure, combined with antibiotics, finally resolved that life-threatening issue. But her cancer journey wasn’t complete, as another slow-growing tumor was found in her abdomen. Doctors opted for a recently approved immunotherapy, which ultimately did the trick.

“It’s been three years since I stopped the immunotherapy. No one who has ever demonstrated a complete response like me has had a recurrence. It’s rare to hear about people with stage 4 who actually survive. So I’m still in a little bit of disbelief all the time. It hits me sometimes harder than others. For several years, I wasn’t worried about planning for retirement. I just didn’t think it was going to happen; you know, that I would get that far. It’s kind of like your life’s been given back to you. It’s hard to know how I would be different now, had all this not happened. What I really can speak to is the closeness of my family. My children are so close, and that wasn’t always the case. I think this whole experience really showed them the value of family and the power of family. The other thing is that you’re not as susceptible to getting upset over the small things in life: the day-to-day stresses and squabbles and disagreements. Things like that are now even more insignificant.”

— Laurie Adcox Haffelfinger

[baytownproject]

“I had my heart set on a Basset Hound. But then we looked at this breed of dog I had never heard of, called a Rat Terrier. In that moment, I knew I was not going home with a Basset Hound. It ended up being one of the best decisions of my life. Samson came at a pivotal time. All my friends were dating somebody or getting married or having kids. While they were having these big life events, he was that thing in my life that I could be proud of. He was sort of my big life event. We kind of grew up together. I was in my early 20s, trying to find myself. He was my ride-or-die buddy. He went everywhere with me. It was a transitional time for me. I went to college in Alabama, then moved back to Texas, away from all my college friends. So he kind of filled that hole for me. As a puppy, he was really fun and goofy. As he got older, he developed this very serious personality. For a while, he was my registered emotional support animal. If I was having a panic attack or anxiety attack, he would sense it and come stand by me. When my husband and I got together, we were two pretty stupid young kids unprepared for marriage. We had a difficult time at the start. If we were arguing, Samson would come and stand between us. He would provide that wall of separation, that wall of peace. My husband would recognize it as, hey, we both need a moment here. We’ve been married 15 years, and we struggled with infertility. So, quite frankly, Samson was like my child. I babied him. It may sound crazy, and it probably is, but I found a lot of my identity through him. Not only did he help me grow up, he helped me get through some really difficult times in my life. A couple days before he passed, I had a going-away party for Sam. I wanted to give everybody a chance to love on him. It got very emotional. I have this hole in my heart now. Some people may not understand. They may think, oh, he’s just an animal, just a dog. But he was so much more than that to me. We had this connection that you couldn’t understand unless you experienced it. Even though I love all my other dogs, there will never be another Samson. He was that once-in-a-lifetime pet.”

— Trina Hattenstein

[baytownproject]

“The focus of Women’s Storybook Project of Texas is to maintain the relationship between incarcerated mothers and their children, and to develop a love of reading in those kids. The project is in 10 women’s prisons throughout the state. I’m part of a group of Baytown volunteers who serve two women’s facilities in Dayton. On the third Saturday of the month, we carpool up there with books and recording devices, and we assist mothers as they read a book they selected for their child. They write a little note in it before we mail it to the child’s caregiver, along with a URL to access the recording. What got me hooked is the simplicity of the project and how powerful it is. The kids get a book of their own, and they get to hear their mom’s voice. Some of these mothers don’t get family visits very often. Sending the books and letting those kids hear their mom’s voice often triggers the family to stay in communication. One month when we had a new group of moms participating, you could just feel the anger rolling off one young woman. We were like, why did she even sign up? But she stuck with us. As we wrapped up the project with them, we asked what they were going to take away from it. We got answers like, ‘I learned that my little girl likes books about trucks.’ Or, ‘I learned that my child reads at a higher level than I thought.’ Women will say, ‘I’m going to get a library card when I’m released, so that I can get books for my children.’ These are all great things, and they touch our hearts. When that one young mom raised her hand to share something, we were surprised she wanted to participate. She said, ‘It’s a beautiful Saturday morning out there. You ladies could be home having a barbecue with your family. You don’t have to be here. But you come here and do this for us and our children, without expecting anything in return. I didn’t know there were people like that in the world.’ At a different setting, another mother said, ‘I learned that I don’t have to sell drugs to buy expensive clothes or tennis shoes for my kids. They just want to hear my voice.’ We understand that we are not going to touch every mom who comes through the program. But if we can reach just one mother who then reaches her child, and that child develops a love of reading, the ripple effect is just like throwing a stone into a still pond. It has an amazing impact.”

— Rhonda Chandler

Rhonda has been involved in Women’s Storybook Project of Texas for about 15 years.

[baytownproject]

“I’ll admit it. Growing up, I was a bully. Looking back on my elementary and middle school years, that’s disgusting. You can’t be proud of something like that. It probably had to do with my situation. There was only my mom to rely on for me and my four brothers. We lived place to place. We didn’t really have money to pay for clothes or shoes, or things like toys at Christmas. You feel bad about yourself. And when you’re so young, you’re not mature enough to understand that you’re supposed to be grateful for the things that you do have. So I would try to make other people feel smaller than me. I guess I felt like I needed to do anything to survive. I remember making fun of a guy because he wore the same outfit to school two or three days in a row. Of course, that was silly. I had been in that same situation because my mom couldn’t always afford laundry soap, or we didn’t have enough quarters to go the laundromat. Around freshman year in high school, I got sick and tired of feeling bad about myself. So I made a point of trying to compliment somebody every single day. I wanted this girl to know that her makeup looked pretty. I wanted this guy to know that his shoes looked really cool. I wanted people to know that others noticed them. By doing that, it started making me feel better. Then, with the help of therapy, things started changing. I began building up my self-esteem, constantly reminding myself that I am worthy and that I can make a difference. It’s a new outlook on life. I’m not a bully anymore. But I will not hesitate to put someone in their place if need be. The golden rule that I stand by is to treat people the way you want to be treated. If someone happens to give me an attitude and I give them an attitude back, I will have to reset the next day. Overall, I try to give people the benefit of the doubt. I give them a second chance, or even a 42nd chance. It doesn’t always work out. But I keep trying.”

[baytownproject]

“I’m all about justice. If I see something that’s unfair, I feel like I need to make it right. In high school, there was this girl who was autistic. Not a lot of people knew it. They just thought she was some weirdo. I was a senior, and she was a freshman or sophomore. She was a skinny little thing, maybe 4-foot-10. One day at lunch, these guys threw her tray of food on the floor because she sat at their table. I got in their faces. I told them they shouldn’t be acting like that toward people, regardless of their situation in life. The principal got involved. He thanked me for sticking up for the girl, and the other two students got sent to in-school suspension. Then last year around Thanksgiving at the grocery store where I work, I tried to stand up for a co-worker. She’s a very nice person who never raises her voice, and she was getting yelled at by a customer. She’s about 5-foot-2, and this guy was about 6 foot and twice her size in weight. She was stocking sausages, and she had a pallet of stuff out there. He was complaining that he couldn’t reach the product that he wanted. He didn’t say, excuse me. He just got mad and started yelling at her. I saw it, and I stepped in. I got yelled at, too, so I yelled back. I kind of told him that she did nothing wrong. I ended up getting in trouble. I got written up for not following procedures. I try to treat everybody with kindness. If it doesn’t happen, and I go a little bit too far and act out of character, it’s probably for a good reason. I guess it’s because I’ve been wronged so many times in my own life. When there was no one there to stand up for me, I know what it was like to feel powerless and feel like nobody had my back. So I try to be that person for other people.”

[baytownproject]

“There needs to be greater awareness in the community of those who are deaf or hard of hearing. It’s more about hearing people understanding and being able to communicate with us. Hearing people don’t try to be rude. They’ve just never been taught what to do. If I walk into a restaurant and sign, the staff will usually just stand there and stare or start talking. If I was completely deaf, I would have no idea what they’re saying. There are ways to communicate with a deaf person, even if you don’t sign. You can grab a pencil and paper, and write quick notes. You can hand them a menu, and they can point to what they want. Another way is an app on my phone called Live Transcribe. It takes spoken words and transcribes them into written English. Many deaf people do speak. Some have been deaf all their lives, and never heard their voice. So it may sound weird to you, but don’t let that affect you. After my wife passed away, I no longer have anyone at home to practice signing with. So I enjoy going to deaf coffee chats in Baytown and Mont Belvieu. We gather as a group and we sign. We talk about the news and things going on in our lives. It makes me feel like I’m part of a group of people who understand me, and I understand them. We’re trying to make my church, Baytown Revival Center, deaf friendly. Next year, we want to have an ASL musical. There would be music for hearing people. And those on stage would also be signing, so deaf people could enjoy. I’m also hoping to start a Bible study for the deaf. This is an ongoing project for me, for people to be aware that there are various ways to communicate with the deaf and hard of hearing. It’s something that I’m passionate about.”

— Dennis Voris

For more information on the deaf coffee chats, check the Facebook pages, Deaf Coffee Chat Baytown and Deaf Coffee Chat Mont Belvieu.

[baytownproject]

“I think that I did it to myself. I played rhythm guitar in a church band. We had our amplifiers sitting right beside us. We wanted to be heard, so they were turned up real loud. All the years of playing in the band, and playing music real loud, certainly contributed to me being hard of hearing. Even though I hear some things, I don’t always understand them. Anything that comes over a loudspeaker, or voices at a higher frequency, I have problems understanding. One ear is worse than the other, but I wear two hearing aids, mostly when I’m working in the classroom. I’m a substitute teacher. With most of the young girls who have softer, higher voices, it’s hard for me to understand. Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m going to give them permission to do something I’m not supposed to. Because they’ll ask you anything. I have struggles, but I can still hear. So it’s not like the struggles that a deaf person has. Everyday conversations with me, one on one, I usually do pretty well. Sometimes I have to ask people to repeat. When I’m teaching, I’ll introduce myself to every class using sign language. Most of the students are very accepting. Sometimes they’ll want to go through the alphabet. But there are some who make fun. Sometimes it’s at schools that have deaf ed. I’m surprised they’re not very accepting there, because they have deaf students in some of their classes. I’m satisfied with the way I am. It doesn’t bother me that I don’t hear everything. I think there’s a general idea that if you can’t do everything, then you’re not a whole person. I can’t walk like everybody else does, but I can still walk. It doesn’t make me half a person. It just makes me a person who can’t walk real well. Same with my hearing. I can’t always hear real well, but I’m still a person. I should be treated like one.”

— Dennis Voris

[baytownproject]

“I was born in St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands. At school, I was in the same class with this girl in first grade, third grade and fifth grade. You could say she was my little girlfriend. I would see her in church and think, some day I’m going to marry her. You know how it is at that age. Then we were supposed to be in sixth grade together, but they put us in different classes. That’s kind of the last time we saw each other. She moved away to New York. When I was in 11th grade, I moved to New York with my mom. I didn’t really like it. I moved back for 12th grade, and I was living with a friend. Since I already had enough credits, I didn’t have to go to class. So I got my diploma and started working. One day, this fellow invited me to church. There was this beautiful girl, and I wanted to marry her. But it wasn’t to be. I continued praying for a wife. And guess who walked into the church? It was the girl from elementary school, now a lady. I knew it was Michelle. As soon as I saw her I told myself, I guess this is the one. It must have been because she was about to get married to someone else. When she went to get her marriage certificate, they said she couldn’t marry the guy because he was already married. She didn’t know. So the two of us started dating. Before you know it, about six months after we reconnected, we were married. It was like we were never apart. It was awesome. She was a very sweet person. Everything I wasn’t, she was. We had five kids together. When she got breast cancer, they wanted to give her chemo. But her veins were so small, it was kind of tough for her. In the hospital the day before she passed, she told them to take it out and let her go. So they did, and she passed on. I cried for two years. The funny thing is, a year or so earlier she told me, ‘When I pass, I want you to marry again.’ And I told her, ‘When I pass, I want you to marry again.’ I don’t know why she said that, unless she knew what was coming. I haven’t remarried. I’m thinking about it. But it’s hard because you might try to compare, and that wouldn’t be fair. We were together 41 years. For me, it was a dream come true.”

— Randall Bascombe