Sheffield- Where everyone knows your name.

Small town mentality or reality?  

For me it was reality. Raising kids while living in a small town is an awesome experience. 

I gave birth to my daughter, Meghann on June 27, 1987.  She was diagnosed

with cerebral palsy shortly after birth. We lived in Sheffield Illinois where I owned

and operated a small salon in my home. This provided me with the opportunity to

raise Meghann while working. One of the perks of working from home

was the time Meghann had to enjoy being part of the community such as participating

in the Sheffield Homecoming parade.

Cute uh? Yes, we won!! 

Ben Tuttle as Batman and Meghann as Catwoman. Nena Donna following behind.

Meghann and I were lucky to be able to live in the small community

where she was loved and accepted regardless of her special needs.

If I had to guess, Meghann's diagnosis probably taught not only me but a

few people in our lives a little about patience, acceptance, and unconditional

love.

Sheffield is a small rural town of under 900 people where they park in the

middle of the road on main street still to this day.

In the early 50's  the movie theater closed and it was turned into a grocery store.

I heard from a reliable source that the theater usher lost his job but became the

butcher in the new grocery store. I am not sure if I believe this or not. 

(I am sure a few life long residents of Sheffield could confirm this fact)

During this time, you could buy groceries then walk upstairs to visit

the balcony filled with televisions, stereos, and VCR'S to purchase. Then you

could buy groceries and sign receipt with a verbal promise to pay it. 

Today, you can walk across the street and buy your household large appliances. 

One of my fondest memories of living in Sheffield is the local bar, Burrhead.

Later it was renamed R&J's by Burr's sons.  This bar was a place where the

old timers met for coffee, and maybe with a little extra kick in it.  It was our

own little Cheers. This bar was where the underage couldn’t wait to turn 21 

to share a frosty mug of beer with the owner, Betty. And maybe even claim

a ceiling tile with their name on it some day.

The Veteran Park

Sheffield has done a beautiful job maintaining the Veteran Park. The new equipment,

restrooms, sidewalks, basketball hoop, and a splash pad are enough of a reason

to spend all day visiting this park. Not to mention the tennis court. I spent many days

and nights playing tennis with my sister, cousins, and friends when I was young.

In this small town, I was blessed enough to have my mom, grandma, and many

aunts, uncles, cousins, and a lot of friends. Sometimes it takes years later to

realize how lucky I was to have all of these people around when I was raising

Meghann. 

I discovered first hand what is was like to live in a small town when

I was going through difficult times. Sheffield isn’t just a small town.

It is a community. A community of caring people. 

Meghann had several hospital stays,and illnesses that resulted in strokes.

It was during this time that I found out what kind of town Sheffield was

to me. They were supportive, caring, helpful, loving, and concerned. Many

people in town flooded her with get well cards when she was hospitalized.

My salon clients never left when I had to take time off to care for Meghann. 

They were supportive and understanding.

The last celebration I spent with Meghann was in Sheffield. It was only fitting to

celebrate her 30th birthday in Sheffield.  It was huge!!! She had a beautiful party

with old and new friends showing up to celebrate. Meghann's favorite Aunt V drove

out with her kids. It was a memorable day filled with attention and gifts showered

on Meghann. She loved it!!!  It was the last time we would celebrate Meghann’s

birthday with her.  Meghann passed away on May 24th a month before

her 31st birthday. It has been three years since Meghann passed away. It still feels

unreal to me.

I will be forever grateful to all of our friends and family for making Meghann’s

last birthday a memorable one. The pictures of that day have carried me through

some difficult days.

I am very proud to have not only grown up in Sheffield but to raise Meghann

there as well. Below is another reason to be proud of Sheffield. A new

wheelchair swing has been installed at the Sheffield park. It may be too late

for Meghann to enjoy this new swing. But the new wheelchair swing will be

there for all the kids now and in the future who are wheelchair users to have

fun in the Sheffield park. 

A special thank you to, Connie Hahne for including me in the plans of

the new swing. It was an honor to be asked for my opinion and to use

my experience to help Sheffield become accessible to all children.

Meghann’s chair may be empty. Her medals may hang without

her but she will never be forgotten.

A new brick on the wall at the Sheffield park. Meghann will always

have a presence in Sheffield. 

Thank you to everyone who was and is in Meghann’s circle of love. And thank

you to the residents of Sheffield for always being there for Meghann and me.

Sheffield will always be home to us.

Please think about Meghann when you hear or see someone being mistreated

in any way. The country has  made huge strides in disability rights. Lets keep going

to make sure people with disabilities continue to have rights like everyone else to

live productive and happy lives.

Thank you !!!

The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) became law in 1990. The ADA is a civil rights

law that prohibits discrimination against individuals with disabilities in all areas of public life,

including jobs, schools, transportation, and all public and private places that are open to the

general public.

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Why turmoil?

Usually my blog is about my daughter, Meghann or something to do with the special needs

community.  

Today I want to tell you a story. 

                                                  

The light flipped on abruptly. His eyes darted around the room.  He barely paid attention

to his sleeping little girls.  

One was asleep, snuggled up in her fuzzy blanket for the night. Her brown long hair 

fanned out on her pillow. In between the twin beds there was a path of dropped barbies

on the floor leading to the chest full of Barbie cars, houses, airplanes, clothes, and 

accessories. 

The older sister was sleeping soundly in the bed next to her.  Her brown hair matched

her sisters but it was pulled into a ponytail on top of her head. They had not heard all

the arguing going on in the house…….. yet. Or maybe they heard it and just grew

accustomed to the noise. 

The dark bedroom was filled with a bright overhead light when he hit the switch. 

It woke them up before their dad said, “Get up. Get in the car.”

The girls did as they were told. Their eyes were half closed because of the glaring bedroom

light and from being woken up suddenly. Without saying a word they stumbled over the

barbies quickly shuffling their little feet toward the garage. Neither little girl acted surprised

with the demand. They always did what they were told and kept quiet.  Not that they could

or dare to attempt to talk over all the yelling from their parents. They were kind of used to

the yelling. After all this was their “normal” family life.  Turmoil.  A word the little girls

would eventually understand as they grew up. 

The youngest little girl drowsily pushed her long hair out of her eyes and climbed into the

station wagon hiking up her nightgown over her bare feet so she wouldn’t trip. She

slid in next to her sister and two brothers. 

All four kids without instructions from the parents sat in silence. Silence is what they

did. Silence is what they learned at a young age. Silence was easy for them. Silence

was expected. 

The station wagon wasn’t packed with their clothes, shoes, toys, or snacks for a trip.

This didn’t seem unusual to any of them. They barely noticed. They just sat quietly

huddled together in silence. 

The little girl stared out the car window into the darkness trying to focus on the road. 

She sat quietly trying to watch the road hoping the yelling in the front seat would stop. 

Maybe her mom would stop threatening to jump out of the car if she would be a good

girl. She didn’t think about where they were going as much as why. They drove and

drove which seemed like forever to a nine years old child. The arguing in the front seat

lasted as long as the ride. The little girl wanted to be swallowed up into a hole where

she could disappear from everything. She didn’t fully understand

why she felt this way. All she knew was an unpredictable and scary time was

happening again. It was scary to not know where they were driving, and it was scary to

never feel safe. The knot in her tummy never seemed to disappear. Just like she could

never disappear into a hole. 

When the station wagon finally stopped. The little girl looked out the car window and

recognized the old Victorian house. It was grandma’s house. Sliding out of the car with

her sister and her brothers following behind they climbed the steps to the five

bedroom house not realizing it would be their new home. When Grandma

opened the door the little girl was relieved and still confused about the middle of the night

road trip. Unfortunately the knot in her tummy didn't go away because Grandma didn’t look

happy to see them. She looked sad. Why? Grandma stepped aside looking down into

her confused granddaughter's face. That face was mine. This story is how I moved

in with my grandmother and how I figured out my parents were divorcing. This is one

of the many faces of a family affected by alcoholism.  

I grew up during the time when alcoholism was hidden from anyone outside the

home. It was an unspoken rule that alcoholism was shameful. And to never talk

about it to anyone. Let alone discuss it within the household. It was to be kept as

a secret. I am writing this today because I am tired of the secrets. One in eight

american adults meets the diagnostic criteria of an alcoholic. If you have an alcoholic

parent it is likely that either you or one of your siblings will have an addiction

problem. This is what happened in my family. Unfortunately one of my siblings has

fought addiction their entire life. It is a sad disease that trickles down in the family

affecting everyone differently into adulthood. Sometimes leading to other addiction

and sometimes leading to TURMOIL within a family or life.  

I closed my eyes to the infidelity and dishonesty in my first marriage because that is

what I was taught to do. My addiction is to not have turmoil. Which causes me to have

turmoil. I do not want to cause waves which ends up causing me a tsunami. To this day,

I am still trying to hide in that hole so I do not have to be the cause of turmoil. Little by

little I am being helped to stay out of the hole I find myself heading toward. My head

tells me silence is what now causes my turmoil. And my old habits keep trying to

push me back into the silent hole. I hope by sharing my story one person steps out of

their silent hole and the shame of addiction by them or a loved one can be released. 

Next time you witness a child acting out at school or in public remember my face.

You never know what a child or an adult is going through. Be kind. Remember

sometimes the turmoil is within, and it cannot be seen.  

Approximately 10.5 percent (7.5 million) of U.S. children ages 17

and younger live with a parent with AUD (alcohol use disorder), 

according to a 2017 report.23

 

https://www.aa.org/pages/en_US

https://americanaddictioncenters.org/alcoholism-treatment/children

The best thing my parents did for us according to me is to give us our grandma.

She provided us a safe place to live and unconditional love.