My Father,GLENN W.HELMS,came from pioneer folks who settled near The Painted Hills, Michell, Oregon.The CARROLL FAMILY have a cemetery in that area.
My Mother, IRENE EULA HIGGENS HELMS,grew up in the Paulina Valley, Oregon. Her grandfather and grandmother built the Roba Ranch. This ranch was placed on the National Register of Historic Homes in 2007 - a labor of love my sister, Rachel Helms Carver, and I worked on for over three years.
I love tracking down my ancestors, adding photos and finding stories about them.

Dear Ancestors
Your tombstones stand among the hills, but not neglected or alone.
The names and dates are chisled out of wood and polished stone.
The names reach out to all who care, but it is too late to mourn.
You do not know that we exist-you died and we were born.
Yet, each of us are cells of you-in flesh and blood and bone.
Our hearts contract and beat a pulse not entirely our own.
Dear Ancestors, the places you filled those many years ago, spreads out among the ones you left behind. The ones who would lave loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you know that someday, some of us would find this spot
and come to pay homage to you.

My Father,GLENN W.HELMS,came from pioneer folks who settled near The Painted Hills, Michell, Oregon.The CARROLL FAMILY have a cemetery in that area.
My Mother, IRENE EULA HIGGENS HELMS,grew up in the Paulina Valley, Oregon. Her grandfather and grandmother built the Roba Ranch. This ranch was placed on the National Register of Historic Homes in 2007 - a labor of love my sister, Rachel Helms Carver, and I worked on for over three years.
I love tracking down my ancestors, adding photos and finding stories about them.

Dear Ancestors
Your tombstones stand among the hills, but not neglected or alone.
The names and dates are chisled out of wood and polished stone.
The names reach out to all who care, but it is too late to mourn.
You do not know that we exist-you died and we were born.
Yet, each of us are cells of you-in flesh and blood and bone.
Our hearts contract and beat a pulse not entirely our own.
Dear Ancestors, the places you filled those many years ago, spreads out among the ones you left behind. The ones who would lave loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you know that someday, some of us would find this spot
and come to pay homage to you.