Of course, I don’t remember it but those who were there tell me that when I was born in Midwest City hospital, my dad was struttin’ proud. He spent the entire night after I was born in the room with Mom and me. In fact, he sat in a “comfy” chair, holding me all the time except when I was being fed or when the nurses were checking me out.

I want to tell you of an experience of a lifetime that my father, Jack Hickman, and I had a couple of weekends ago.
My dad is a veteran of World War II. A couple of years ago he heard of a nonprofit organization called The Honor Flight Network that is taking as many WWII veterans as possible to see their memorial at no cost to the veterans.

Where there’s a pool, lake or river, Mark Ruiz likely has been there teaching American Red Cross water safety courses.
During his 45 years of leading Red Cross courses, Ruiz estimates he’s instructed tens of thousands of people.
And that may be a conservative guess.

At the time of Jon Kilburn’s graduation from Moore High School in May, 1949, the Marine Corp was offering a one-year active enlistment with six years in the Reserves. He thought that was what he wanted, getting his military obligation fulfilled rather quickly, instead of waiting for the draft call of two to four years active service plus Reserves. His dad, John Calvin Kilburn, had served in the Marines from 1921-1923.

I want to give honor to three young men in their late teens who helped make “My Impossible Dream” come true in 1974.
Maud, Okla. and Rota, Spain, are worlds apart, and even though our youngest daughter, Theresa, and our two-year-old grandson, Jason, and her Navy husband, Jim Storts, had been there for two years and would be there for another two years, my chances of going over to see them were slim to none.

As an educator in the Kansas public school systems I have had the pleasure of teaching many outstanding students over the past 40 years. I want to make mention of two local individuals in our community that I would consider “hometown heroes.”  

When we think of heroes, the first thing that comes to mind is the John Wayne type, riding up to fight the bad guys.
Our family’s hero is a petite, pretty blonde, who will fight like a tiger for children.

When Bruce and Pam Travis receive word that Red Cross assistance is needed at a disaster, they don’t pause before springing into action.
For the couple, helping others is second nature, and providing that assistance through the American Red Cross is what they’re driven to do.

Fouzie Moola, RN/director of nursing, and Yvetta Alderson, LPN/assistant director of nursing, are my heroes. These ladies go above and beyond the call of duty to make sure the residents of Shawnee Care Center are taken care of and receive everything they need. They make sure the facility and staff in all the departments give 110 percent for the residents.

During World War II, when I was 13 years old, my brother Alvie “Pinky” Bledsoe joined the Navy to fight for our country. I cried for days after he left. He was my hero, my buddy.

This isn’t about a favorite teacher, parent, boy scout leader, etc. My niece, Tabitha Baptiste, (19 at the time) and I were traveling to Braum’s on a Saturday evening around 8 p.m. to get her son (1 ½ at the time) some ice cream. It was cold outside, so we didn’t take him and I told the baby I would be right back with his ice cream.

Heroes? Well, some people would say that my choice of a hero is not what they had in mind, but then again, they don’t know my sister!
 There is just the two of us. Of course, she being the oldest, she always told me that mom and daddy found me on the corner, and decided to bring me home.

I have been blessed with many heroes in my life, but  I have a special one that I chose to talk about today.  I have known my hero for at least 60 years, so I have known her through many stages of my life and in each era I see more characteristics which make her a hero to me.

Johnnie Baptist Bruno was born March 18, 1902, on the home place near Sacred Heart, Oklahoma; Beatrice Casteel  was born near Davenport, Oklahoma Feb. 28, 1907.

My hometown now looks quite different than it did several years ago. My past includes cows, pigs, chickens, gardens, tractors and the usual “farm” stuff. My hometown from the past is where I found my hero. 

My three most favorite teachers are Mrs. Kennedy, Mrs. Yort and Mrs. Cappo. I like my third-grade teacher Mrs. Kennedy because she is really, really nice because of her nice actions. I like my second-grade teacher Mrs. Yort because she is nice and sometimes she would let us play games and have parties that involves junk food. My most favorite part in Mrs. Yort's class was our Valentine's Day party. I really liked my first-grade teacher Mrs. Cappo because we had very easy spelling words and she told us stories. There are my most favorite teachers at Jefferson Elementary.

On Valentine’s Day my dad would always stop by Jim Griffith’s Campus Drug and carry in four satin heart shape boxes of candy. He always said that you give sweets to the sweet.
On Feb. 9, 1981, our daughter Meghan was born and we had only been home from the hospital just a couple of days before Valentine’s Day. My husband Mike had always been very good about sending flowers on special days and every opening day on the wildlfe calendar. I knew that Valentine’s Day was coming up but I wasn’t worried because my wonderful husband had everything under control and he didn’t need any hints even though our household was experiencing some big adjustments.

Charlotte’s version:
I’m sitting at my desk working when my ex-mother-in-law, Peggy Ford, comes over my speaker and summons me to her office. She proceeds to introduce me to her “single” client, Gary Barnett. We exchanged polite conversation and I returned to my office. That same evening, Peggy and I were at country and western dance lesson in Oklahoma City and much to my surprise in walks Gary Barnett. Peggy just happened to mention to him that we would be there.

For most of my life I believed that the majority of people went through life without ever experiencing the joy of finding their true soul mate, that one person with whom they could share their love, their dreams and aspirations, and their fears; that one person who would become not only their husband or wife, but their best friend for life. I had that one person in my life for 41 years and when she passed away last year, I thought that was it. I had been one of the lucky ones.