The Way I See It...

Publisher's Letter 

Robin Rogers, Ed.D.

May 2025

The first four months of 2025 have come with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. In particular, this last month of my life was a big, menopausal rollercoaster of emotions. As my grandmother used to say, “I didn’t know if I was washing or drying out.” 

First of all, exactly four weeks ago, I went to a nonprofit event and came home with COVID. Just when I was sure that that virus was a thing of the past, I drank too much wine, hugged too many people, and got really, really sick. I tested positive for exactly a week, and all seven of those days I kept to myself, hoping to keep my daughter Emily from getting sick, too. (Thankfully, my mom, my other daughter, and Em’s wonderful caregivers were available to help out more than usual.) I wasn’t a COVID virgin, but this time was so much worse than the times before. The moment I tested negative, I resumed life as normal—back to work, back to caretaking—but the cough and the exhaustion hung on like glitter on the floor after a New Year’s Eve party.

During that pitiful time, I was anxiously awaiting the birth of a new family member. I hoped desperately to be available and well when sweet Hallie Drue Herman was born. When I was no longer COVID positive and Hallie hadn’t yet arrived, I was so relieved. I honestly thought she was going to make us all wait until her due date, just like her brothers had done, but I was gladly on-call to show up in the middle of the night to watch her brothers should she come early.

So, when my phone rang at 3:45 a.m. on Monday, April 7th, I bolted over to Victoria and Braden’s house. Now, while these kids (adults) aren’t my biological kids, I’ve grown to love them and their kids as if they were blood-related. When I got to the house, I realized that it might not be a normal birth; Victoria was loaded up to go, and Braden, who is normally calm, seemed nervous. I don’t remember the last time I felt as scared as I did that night. Such relief washed over me when I received word a mere hour later that, after an emergency C-section, both of my Herman girls were going to be okay. When I got to wake the boys for school that morning and tell them that their sister was here and that Momma was just fine—it was one of the greatest moments of my life. Truly.

The second stressful-yet-exciting event of the last few months involved my oldest daughter, Ellen. With her lease almost up, Ellen made this mom’s heart so happy when she let me know that she was going to buy a house in Texarkana. It was something I never expected, so her decision thrilled me. Ellen loves the hustle and bustle of a big city and lived in Toronto for five years, but she decided that being close to her family was more important to her than metropolitan amenities. She started looking for a house with real estate agent Amanda Ables. I have known Amanda for her entire life: as a teenager, I babysat her. When she was a teenager, she babysat my kids. Amanda even worked at Four States Living 15 or so years ago. Ellen knew Amanda would take care of her like family.

Ellen let me tag along to some of the viewings. As we toured house after house, Amanda would find fault with all of them. “Ellen is as close to a little sister as I’ll ever get,” she said; she was not going to settle on anything less than ideal. And thank goodness, because eventually, the absolute perfect house showed up: a charming, single-story home, with original hardwood floors and a fenced backyard, just a short walk from Spring Lake Park.

Now, if you think negotiating for your own house is stressful, wait until your single daughter is asking her single mother for advice on buying a house. Ellen was (in her own words) an anxious mess, overwhelmed and scared to make a bad decision. I tried to advise her but insisted that she had to make this decision on her own. When she made an offer, which was quickly accepted, I breathed a sigh of relief. 

But as soon as I exhaled, the inspection came back, exposing termites in an outbuilding and a roof that was beyond its life expectancy. Again, like a mother who is always too invested, I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. The perfect house had issues. But nothing is truly perfect, and that’s when Amanda Ables earned her commission. Good deals are made by good negotiations, and after a few back-and-forths, the house was rid of termites, and a new roof had been installed.

By the time she closed, I was testing negative for COVID and positive for cabin fever; I couldn’t rest in my bedroom for a moment longer, even though I still felt run-down. I hitched my trailer to my SUV and started helping Ellen move her belongings across town. Sick, exhausted, anxious, and frustrated, I was determined to help her get it done—and get it done we did. She has officially moved into her first house, where I hope she will be happy for a long time (and not just because I don’t even want to think about helping her move again any time soon!).

Of course, sheer willpower can only take a woman so far. As determined as I was to be there for Victoria and Ellen, my post-COVID body eventually shut things down: with my immune system diminished, I caught yet another bug. I knew I couldn’t keep “pushing through,” as much as I wanted to. Thankfully, Victoria and Ellen have wonderful sisters and girlfriends who showed up to support them in their milestone moments while I relented and followed my doctor’s orders of antibiotics, steroids, fluids, and rest.

Another one of my grandmother’s favorite sayings was, “Women hold up the world.” This month in particular, I’m feeling grateful that women hold up each other. Some of us are related by DNA; some of us are family by choice. Some of us have known each other for a lifetime; some of us only feel as if we have. Regardless, we care for each other as mothers, daughters, sisters, and friends. To me, that is womanhood.

Once a year, we dedicate an entire publication to women. We started this tradition over 25 years ago. We do not know in advance who is going to be selected, as the prior year’s honorees nominate the next group of women, so it’s like a great surprise when the names come in. Our staff gets the opportunity to meet, photograph, and write about wonderful, dynamic women who we might not know any other way. This year, I only knew one of the nine striking women that we interviewed, but I was able to meet everyone before we went to press. Emily asked me what I thought about this year’s group. I think I said something like, “They are amazing!” I know you’ll agree. Don’t forget to honor the moms in your life on the 11th; we wouldn’t be here without them! And, as always, thanks for reading FSLM.