Moving to Colorado

I call this blog, “Blind and Deaf Adventures with LeeAnn” because LeeAnn is blind and deaf, and because everything we do is an adventure. 

But it also refers to me. As her sister and legal guardian, I have to be careful NOT to be blind or deaf to her wants/needs/desires. 

Life changes are not easy for LeeAnn. Four years ago, we moved her and mother into our home in Kansas. Leaving Amarillo was the hardest thing she experienced in a long time. 

(The first hardest for her, was when she moved to Austin to attend the Deaf/Blind school in 1972.) 

The move to Kansas was for the better for her and for mother. She didn’t understand she was safe with us. She also did not understand she had not been safe before. Mother's dementia had stolen her ability to properly care and protect LeeAnn, or herself. Predators, or at least one particular predator, was circling their waters. We saved them in the nick of time (but that's another story).

This latest adventure, moving to Colorado, has evolved over the past four years. Fulfilling our dream to live in Colorado became doable as our own lives were changing (but...that's yet another story). Colorado is where we want to be buried, some day (like 50 years from now!), and we want this to be our final place to settle and retire.  (Remember I’m 57 years old and my husband turns 50 this year.)

Moving is hard on anybody. For some, change is an emotionally charged event. For others, change is exciting, but the actual “move” is physically and mentally hard on one's mind, body, and soul.

Add to that moving from one state to another, three hundred and fifty miles between loads, and the moving experience becomes even more challenging, expensive, and time-consuming.

One of first trailer loads.

New car registrations, driver's licenses, phone numbers, doctors, dentists, hair stylists, nail techs...everything new and different.

Now, add to that: indecision. Whether to build on the five acres in the country we bought four years ago, build in town, or buy resale; and you’ve got the situation we have at hand.

All that doesn’t sound too bad, but, once again, I ask you to add another component to this scenario.  LeeAnn. 

She is mentally challenged and to say she is set in her ways is not quit accurate. Actually, she is cemented in her ways.

My sister doesn’t do change. She’s a hoarder of things and space. She is comfortable with no change at all.

Photo from google images,
not my sister.

EVER. She’d rather squeeze into a little bitty “office” to get to her chair and desk, or maneuver through piles and piles of collectibles in order to get to her bed, or dressers, than to throw stuff away or make any kind of change in the arrangement. I’m not sure where this personality trait comes from, except that she is mentally challenged and I assume she thinks that once received, one must hang on to, or one will never have again.

I’m not sure, it’s an assumption on my part. With LeeAnn, I have to assume a lot because she cannot explain. It’s like reading a pet’s actions to know what they want. Sometimes you know. Some times you assume you know…you know?

And I have to admit, the indecision on our part didn’t ease her discomfort.  We had three options. Build on our land. Build in town. Buy resale in town. We changed our minds, or it was changed for us by reality/finances, several times. I’m talking back and forth like Forest Gump's ping pong ball when he was practicing against a wall.

At first, going back four years, we wanted to build on our land. A dream home. Beautiful log home called the Castlerock.

The Castlerock, by Honest Ab Log Homes

It was all we thought about. I had it completely decorated in my mind and LeeAnn had a bedroom, an office, and we would share a Library down in the basement. But reality set in solid as the granite outcrop on our land when we received the estimate from the subcontractors. It was WAY over our heads financially.  

So we looked at resale and stumbled on a guy building new in Canon City. We liked the style of this home and we thought a corner lot on this street would be perfect. The architectural company had a floor plan that suited our needs, with a basement, four bedrooms, three car garage, RV parking, etc. It had everything, except it wouldn’t be on our land. Amazing view of Pikes Peak…really this option was excellent.

But then we got to thinking, “What if we built a smaller log home on our land?” Looking into that, we found the Raleigh.

The Raleigh, by Honest Ab Log Homes

Three bedroom, two bath, and we could modify the interior, add a basement with bedrooms, utility room, an arts and crafts/storage room, a family room and a library, for the same, or near to the same (okay, a little over the) cost as the new build in town. LeeAnn could set up her “office” in her bedroom. It would be fine. AND we’d be on our land! 

This is the critical thing. We love our little piece of Colorado. The thought of not living out there brought uncontrollable tears to my eyes. We had imagined living there for so long!

Meanwhile, we perused the resale listings, off and on. You know, just to see what was out there. <insert snickering from audience> One house kept cropping up in strange ways. (I think God was tapping me on the shoulder, but I had a hard time accepting the nudge. Like I said earlier, Who is the Blind and Deaf one here?) Back in September/October, I had “saved” the house along with several others to “follow” on the realty site. But it was three bedroom and I really wanted four, for a writing studio. In November, our realtor sent me an e-mail letting me know the owners were willing to rent-until-close. 

Still we focused on building on our land.

Understand, too, that during all this indecision: back and forth, back and forth with deciding what we should do, I was showing LeeAnn pictures of the log house and the floor plans, the new build in town with floor plans, and some of the resale homes. She had made a folder several months before, labeled, “Colorado Home Office,” in which she had put pictures of the Castlerock and 8X10 printout of the floor plans.  I had convinced her *wink* the Castlerock wouldn’t work, and the Raleigh would be good. Every time we changed our mind, she added the new pictures to her folder, and yet she would ask…

Log home? (meaning the bigger Castlerock) Wrong home? I love the Log Home with the basement for my office.

“I know.” I told her. “Too much money.” 

You need to understand at this point, LeeAnn has very little concept of money or commerce. She thinks, “If you want it, you buy it.” The finiteness of money is irrelevant to an acquisition. So she really didn’t understand why we wouldn’t (not couldn’t, but wouldn’t) build the Castlerock. 

As set on building the Raleigh as we were, we paid for blue-lines, tweaked the floor plans to our likings, discussed mortgage options with our bank, etc. Everything was being readied to move forward. But in our hearts, both of us were terrified of the mortgage payments, yet we said nothing to the other. Okay, sometimes our communication skills are…lacking. We knew it was at the upper end of our range. We were both worried and somewhat miserable about the decision. I kept hearing one of our pastor’s messages about peace. 

You know when something is from God when you are at peace with it. 

I wasn’t at peace with this, but I refused to address it because I thought, “This is what we want. It’s the right thing to do. We will love living out there on our land.”

Then one day, in January, my husband scanned the resale homes online and this same house caught his eye. He showed it to me. I was shocked. It was the same house I had marked as save, and our realtor had e-mailed me in November. This was a sign if ever there was one. We spilled our guts about our fears with the log home and the other expenses associated with building/moving so far out and on never-before-developed land. 

We set up an appointment and drove to Canon City to look at this haunting-our-minds home. 

By now, LeeAnn was completely confused.

After walking through the house, we liked it. Alot.

The price was much more reasonable for our day-to-day budget.  We’d have wiggle room to “do other things,” which is very important to us. You know, we want to have adventures, go camping, fishing, see Yellow Stone, the Red Woods, make trips back to Kansas to see family and back to Texas to see the grandkids (and our children, of course. Ahem!). I could go on and on. We discussed it all the way back to Kansas and we were leaning heavily toward buying this house.

But LeeAnn cried most of the way home. She kept signing, “I love the Log Home. I love the basement office.”

I told her, “I know. Too much money. Green house is better for us.”

She signed, “Wrong home. Log home, wrong.”

I said, “Too much money. Green house better.”

She wasn’t consoled, but settled down and stopped crying.  

I racked my brain to figure out how to make her understand. I reminded her of the bedroom she liked. It was already painted blue, her favorite color in the whole wide world. The thought of that made her happy.  I ran off pictures of the home from the realty web site and she put them in her folder. That really seemed to appease her. But from time to time she would ask, “Log home wrong?”

I told her, “Yes.”

Now, we are moved in. We love to see the deer in the yard,

 LeeAnn is settling into her blue room, and we have hung several of her paintings in there and the bathroom, which is virtually hers unless we have company. Soon we will unearth her what-nots for her shelves, but she has her desk set and is on her computer again. She has asked me several times, “Rent this house?”

I tell her, “Yes, but we are buying it.”

When we drove back to Kansas and cleaned out the house there, she helped and was SO excited when we finished. She danced and laughed, clapping her hands and signed, “Yeah, finished.” It was really cute. I knew how she felt.  That’s the worst part of moving, in my opinion.

We’ve started painting and making a few changes here and there. LeeAnn says, “It’s beautiful.”

Not finished,
but here is our Library

She LOVES the library and brought a book up to put on one of the shelves yesterday. 

Our Aunt Dorothy lives just two and a half hours from here. LeeAnn is excited to be closer to her and we anxiously wait for her first visit.  

U-haul (Paul), Pam, William,
and me, last in convoy.

Another friend from Denver has already been here. (She helped us move by coming back to Kansas with us, kept us on track, and then she was the fourth driver when we made the U-haul trek a week ago.) Thank you, Pam Wright! You are a friend in deed!

The more we get “moved in” and the more it looks like “us” the more settled we feel here. And LeeAnn is settling in too. She is back to her routine of breakfast, chores (she loves helping), and writing on her computer. She hasn’t asked about the Log Home in over a week. That doesn’t mean she won’t ask again. But for now, our adventure is less of a strain on our minds and our hearts. 

This is where we want to be, Colorado. LeeAnn will forever want to be in Amarillo, because that is all she has ever known. I am confident, in time, she will think of this as home and will not want to be anywhere else. I stand at the kitchen window with her and point out the view of the mountains. I say, “Look, the mountains are beautiful!”  

She agrees. 

This adventure will become a memory we will cherish in our hearts of the “time we moved to Colorado,” and we will move on to other…

Blind and Deaf Adventures with LeeAnn.

How about you? Has there been an event in your life that seemed insurmountable? Were you blind and deaf to a loved one’s state of mind? Did you see God’s hand in the mix of it all? Tell me about it. I’d love to know more. 

Been There, Bought the T-Shirt

Rocky Mountain National Park

Adventure #2 After Cuchara/Bear Lake, we headed north to RMNP. This is the view from the top of Trail Ridge Road. ...And do you see the sign Paul is standing next to? 

Yes, my friends, he is standing at 12,005 feet above sea level. No wonder there are T-shirts in the gift shop that read, "Got Oxygen?" Oh my goodness. I had to breath aerobically and pause a lot but I too made it and so I bought a T-shirt that said, "I made it to top." 

LeeAnn got one too, exactly like mine, but she didn't earn it. About one-third of the way up this stack of stairs and asphalt walk, she just sat down. Paul, my RN husband, said she's not gonna make it! I thought if we took our time, she could, but when she sat down. I thought, Yeah, maybe not. So I walked her back down and Paul went on up to the picturesque position and some kind woman took his picture.

What she did get to see was this magnificent Elk. He was just lazying a few feet from the path/stairs we were struggling to climb. 

I couldn't help but think of my oldest son. He lives at 300 feet above sea level in Austin, TX. How hard would this trek have been on him? Of course, he's twenty-three years younger than me but still...

Ah, I digress. We stopped at most of the scenic overlooks and walked around, snapping pictures of the cute chipmunk, the unique birds, the amazing flora and the striations in the granite rock fascinated me so much I took pictures of it too. Downed trees created amazing artistic photos of which I cannot wait to frame. I'll be quiet now and just let you look at the pictures.

It was beautiful. We had never been here in Rocky Mountain National Park before, but we will definitely be back. Although it rained every day between two and four, it still was an unbelievable vacation. We all three had a wonderful time and at least two of us hated to leave. LeeAnn is always ready to go home. She likes her own routine and doesn't have "need" of a vacation like we do. However, she really enjoyed this trip. We stopped in Littleton, CO to see a dear friend on our way up there. (Hi Pam!)  

Monday, we left the park to go see our Aunt and Uncle in Wheatridge, CO (Hey, Aunt Dorothy, Uncle Fred, thanks for lunch!) and on our way home, we stopped to see our cousins in Boulder, CO (Howdy, Bryan, Anne, Carolyn, thanks for the coffee and cantaloupe.)

I have to admit, home looked good when we pulled in at ten-thirty that night, and our bed welcomed us with open arms! I love our memory foam mattress! Our cat was thrilled to see us and promptly and properly chewed us out, although she wasn't alone, exactly. Our son had held down the fort nicely while we were gone. I praised him for keeping the kitchen clean. 

I'm not sure where our next adventure will be, but we have taken a map of the USA and put green map pins on the places we want to go, and two red pins on the places we have been (that is--where we have been together, in this White Water Retro Trailer). It's all a simple matter of time and money. Oh well.  We've got time between Paul's off days and vacation days, we'll be heading out again, and I'll be writing about our...

Blind and Deaf Adventures with LeeAnn

You can count on it.

Adventure #1: Bear Lake, Colorado (near Cuchara, CO)

Did you know...

there is no oxygen at 10,000 feet? Okay, there’s some, but not much for a fat gal like me. I know, I know, I’m not fat, I’m fluffy. But simply walking down to the community toilet causes me to have to sit down back at camp and catch my breath. Whew! 

Still, it’s gorgeous up here in Bear Lake. We have a creek right next to our site that makes a constant white noise (I love that) and pines stand majestically over our heads, while aspens flitter with the breeze just across the way. It’s gorgeous! Did I mention that?

And yet, I had a moment of sadness as I walked the road encircling this camp ground when I first heard, and then saw, the aspens flitter. Their leaves twinkle as they twirl on their delicate branches, because of a light breeze shoving its way through the foliage. I looked up in surprise and wonder, and then my heart broke. LeeAnn would never hear this. And I’m not too sure she could see it either. I’m sure she can see the green scape, of course, and know it is a stand of trees, but can she see the delicate way each leaf dances in its place on the limbs? I really don’t think so.

That saddens me.

But it is how it is for LeeAnn. There are many things in life she will never know. She’ll never know that thrilling sensation when the man she loves passionately whispers her name. The joy that fills a woman’s heart when she realize she is carrying a child. The awe that takes your breath when you look out across the landscape and see God’s handy work in sculpting the earth. These things will never be part of LeeAnn’s life.

And yet, she is happy. There are aspects of this experience she will never…well, never experience. She swats the bugs, but is not terribly bothered by them. She told me she slept great and woke up happy every morning we have been here. She watched with excitement as a thunderstorm rolled in today. She signed about the clouds moving and the rain coming. When it began to rain, she laughed and moved into the camper to continue reading on her Kindle. When the thunder cracked over our heads, she made her happy sounds, “Mum, mum, mum, mum,” waking me from my rain-induced nap.

When we first got here, she told me the trees smell good. I agree. I love the smell of a forest! She giggled last night as she knelt down by the open pit fire and held her hot-dog skewer in the flames.

She didn’t even mind yesterday morning when we woke up and quickly ate breakfast so we could go into Trinidad to have the truck fixed.

Paul and LeeAnn in Service Waiting Room

Oh I didn’t tell you about that? The minute we arrived here at Bear Lake, the transmission cable slipped out of place and we were stuck in neutral! We were not parked yet. I started praying and praying. My husband slid under the truck, in the sandy-mucky-mud and did his best to clean off the cable, enough so that the truck went into Park, Neutral and Drive. It was enough to maneuver the camper into a camp site and disconnect the truck. The next morning we drove the truck on a wing and many prayers into Trinidad, Cookes Dealership! Bless those people. They had it fixed in two hours. We ate lunch at Wendy’s and returned to camp.

LeeAnn took this all in stride. She signed, Truck broke. Men fixed. I told her, “yes.” Did she have any idea how big of a deal that could have been? We’ll probably never know.

Maybe it’s not so bad for her not to experience everything we experience. Those were some anxious moments, for my husband and me.

What am I, Chopped Liver?

or...The Invisible Sibling

Being a sibling of a special-needs person, at least for me, was to be invisible. 

Before either of us went grey!

It's interesting when I search the social medias by using #specialneeds. The hashtag renders many, many supporting groups for moms, parents, social workers, counselors, and teachers of special needs children. But, so far (and I'm not saying I've done an all-inclusive, thorough search) I haven't found anything targeting us siblings.  It's as if we are invisible.

Which is funny, because it's been that way all my life since LeeAnn was born.

It is us, the siblings, who help raise the special needs child. We take up some slack for our parents by entertaining our sibling with simplified games, tuck them back into bed when they crash our slumber parties, and we know in the end we will be the one who takes care of our special-needs sibling after our parents pass. And yet, the world, the teachers, the counselors, and even our parents see right through us as if we were not even there. As if what we do is expected to the degree that it is not noticed.

Oh, I get it. I got it back then, too. Even as a seven or eight year old, I realized her circumstances
were way more interesting than mine. I was a normal, healthy child. I had no special needs, or limitations, other than my near-sightedness. I was fine.

Really, I was.

I wasn't jealous of the extra attention she got and needed. In fact, I was proud of the uniqueness of my situation. Nobody else had a sister who was blind and deaf, with a hole in her heart.

I had boldly announced this as I circled my third-grade classroom the first day of school when our teacher prompted us to make the circle and introduce ourselves. I remember the teacher's reaction was one of shock and possibly embarrassment. She said, "Well, you didn't have to say all that."

I thought, "Why not? That's who I am."

In my college speech class, when I was asked to write a speech telling something interesting about myself, I wrote, "The most interesting thing about me is not actually about me. It's about my sister..." I proceeded to tell LeeAnn's story. The students were, indeed, fascinated.  Because it is fascinating how LeeAnn has grown up and is thriving.

I get that!

But do I have to be invisible?


When LeeAnn was around three, people came to our house and interviewed Mom. Later, there was an article in the newspaper about LeeAnn. It had a large picture of her, with her Orphan-Annie curly head of hair and watery-blue eyes, staring, cross-eyed, at the flame of a candle (She loved candles back then. Her bangs were always singed slightly from her long gazes at a lit flame. More about that in another blog.). And it mentioned me! Well, it mentioned LeeAnn had an older sister named Linda.

Yeah, that's not me.

If that wasn't frustrating enough, kids at my school came to me and said, "Hey! There was an article in the paper about another kid like your sister..."

"That was my sister," I retorted. "They got my name wrong."  After all, how often is your name mentioned in the newspaper when you're a kid? Once, for me, and they got it wrong.

Another time, we drove to Oklahoma City to meet with a well-known doctor who had a program for special needs children like LeeAnn. My parents were very serious on the drive down and I was instructed to be on my best behavior. So I tried to be.  But, when the man walked into our sterile, plastic chaired waiting room and my mom and dad introduced themselves and me, the man was so focused on LeeAnn he completely missed what my dad said. You see, Dad said, "...and this is our daughter, ..." but the man heard "...this is Barbara."

He continued to call me Barbara for the rest of the visit. I was so embarrassed. When the doctor wanted to get me and LeeAnn out of the room (you know, adult talk), he said, "Barbara, will you take LeeAnn out and show her where the water fountain is? ... Barbara...Barbara!"

Oh! me!  I responded and took LeeAnn out into the hall.  I wanted to crawl under the tile and hide in the car. I had wanted to make a good impression, as my mother had emphasized, but I felt like I came off as an idiot.

Later there was another article about LeeAnn attending the school in Austin. I wasn't mentioned in that one at all, which was fine with me, because they probably would have gotten my name wrong again. It was less frustrating to not be mentioned at all.

***Flash forward to today***

Okay, so that was then and this is now. I've grown up and I'm fine. I have raised four children. I have ten amazing grandchildren (at this writing, three are still in the oven) and a wonderful husband, my in-laws love me, my church family loves me, my friends love me, and I am a published author.

I have a blessed and happy life. I've made a name for myself. I am not invisible...

This blog is my opportunity to reach out to other siblings.

This is the portrait Mom and Dad had made
for their fortieth wedding anniversary. July 4, 2004.

It's never easy unloading the baggage of the child within. I call her Little Lynn. She's still very insecure, seeking her own moments for attention and love. I know Mother did her best with what she had to work with, as did Dad.

Somehow, I got left out.  Just like this "family portrait" they had made in 2004 for their fortieth wedding anniversary.

...and what's funny about that is LeeAnn was the one who said to our parents, "Lynn!" Meaning: Lynn should be in the family picture. I was surprised and happy when Mom called and asked me to join them for a family portrait. It was later I learned they had already had one sitting before they realized (or was reminded) I should be included.

Fortieth Wedding Anniversary, July 4, 2004

As we load up our travel trailer and head out on our adventure for more altitude and less attitude...and cooler temperatures in Colorado, I want to emphasize this one thing: I'm not telling you all this as an invitation to my pity party! No way. I'm just reaching out and sharing my story. I am sure other siblings completely understand and have stories of their own. I hope this reaches some of them and I also hope they, and you, will comment below. I'd love to hear what you think. I'd love to hear others' stories. Surely I'm not alone, or invisible.