Helen Olson Jones at a Class of 1960 Reunion
July 17, 2025
I think most of us would remember the work that Helen Olson Jones did on our reunions of the past. Her husband, Ted, called me this morning and told me that Helen no longer drives, cooks, or remembers any one longer than five minutes. My telephone call to her went to message last night. Ted takes care of her at home. Six months ago I had to explain to her who I was.
Helen was my first friend at College Hill. I had already met Debbie Snyder, who was a neighbor. However, the first day at school, in the second grade, Helen came up to me
and asked if I would like to be her friend. It was rather formal, but I said yes, and then we set the terms of friendship. The main deal was that she would push me on the swings if I would in turn push her. We agreed to do the teeter totter as well. I loved the giant-strides and she would wait for me to get my wild streak satisfied. She often waited as I swooped up and down in the air. One day she freaked and called me to stop immediately. When she got me aside, she whispered that she looked and that I had no under pants on. Oops. I forgot. Social goof. I stayed out of the air the rest of the day. She scolded me, but we stayed as friends.
You couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Talking to Helen on the phone became a habit. We called each other as we made Friday night plans in grade school. By the time we entered Roosevelt she had changed her name from Jane to Helen, and we engaged in an extended network of telephone relationships. Debbie Snyder, Brenda
Benjamin( at right), Mary Lohrenz (below left), and Suzanne Porter were almost nightly phone calls. The major topic was our #1 issue: what we were wearing to school the next day. For instance, we would agree to wear navy skirts and similarly colored blouses or sweaters. In 7th and 8th grade we wore hoop-skirt petticoats, or cancans under full skirts. These 
clothing plans often took more than one phone call. Helen looked good in pink, as did some of the others. I never wore pink, but was happy with blues, greens, and browns. Careful planning consumed the details of wardrobes.
By 9th grade, Helen and other friends planned Friday nights. For that time, the fashion was strict. Blue jeans, our father’s white shirts, and penny loafers were the uniform. The only problem I had was that my mother would not
allow me to wear jeans—especially not ones that zipped up the front. I tried very hard to have blue slacks, or on an off night have khaki slacks. In those days we even compared and often matched our necklaces and our ID bracelets, by phone of course.
By ninth grade we were all wobbling in our high heels, especially on Sundays. Helen, Mary, Suzanne Porter (at right), Patty Pierce, Carol Kendall (at left), Marilyn 
Ash (below at right), and I would meet for Sunday School. We sported short veiled hats, gloves, and small purses as we filed in to the main lecture and then broke into grade level groups. Mike Tearney and Dick Carlock were also in that class. I was bored and got to laughing with Dick. Our teacher scolded us, but we continued until the two of us got kicked out of Sunday School for that day. Hele
n scolded me on the phone for that more than once. She always knew how to behave and I was always on the sneaky side.
When we arrived at East, our daily calls dropped to two or three calls a week because homework required serious time. During those years our social activities increased, and our phone calls were less about dressing alike and more about developing our own sense of style.
Cancans were out and Capezios were in – in multiple colors. I had both black and brown shoes. One morning I showed up at school wearing one of each color and did not notice. Once again Helen pointed out my fashion goof, but the day was almost over so I suffered the teasing. I never made that mistake again.
Our phone calls diminished as we grew up in high school, and then went off to college. We were not around for each other’s weddings but kept calling each other for birthdays and then visited in the summers and at Christmas. I came home for Helen’s father’s funeral and she attended both my parents’ funerals.
Helen and I were very close friends for many years. When my father was silenced by a series of strokes, Helen’s husband, Ted, managed my father’s aircraft parts business and managed the continued work through the sale of the business. Ted is a retired engineer from Boeing and later did his own property work. My whole family appreciated having Ted step into our father’s business.
I still talked to Helen two or three times a year. This past Christmas when I called her, she suddenly asked me who I was. I realized that she did not ask about my three sons because she could not remember me or recognize me until I told her again that I was Glenna. Helen had the same cheerful sparkle in her voice, but I could feel the distance expanding. This summer when I called to visit with her, Ted told me that she was having cognitive difficulty and could not remember anything longer than 5 minutes. I still remember that girl who wanted me as a friend and I will continue to call her. Fortunately I have made friends with her daughter who is also an artist!
My other telephone relationships continue. Besides talking to Helen, I have
talked with Debbie Snyder Tucker five days a week starting in 2015 when I had cancer. Now the focus is mostly on her Parkinson’s and, of course, on our families. Sometimes, we only talk for a few minutes, confirming that we are still here.
My dad always told me I talked too much, was a “Jabberbox.”. My mother warned me that “Someday your mouth is going to get you into trouble.” I knew the were right, but just would worry about that “someday.”
Glenna
