ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, April 5, 1996 TAG: 9604050118
SECTION: NATIONAL/INTERNATIONAL PAGE: A-1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: DALLAS
SOURCE: LAURA GRIFFIN DALLAS MORNING NEWS
``BEFORE I KNEW IT I had five kids. What is a man who would turn his back on his family?'' says Eugene Helm, as if the generosity others marvel at were no big deal.
After a long day that includes eight bus rides to and from work, Eugene Helm settles into his nightly routine of raising five children.
While cooking dinner, he juggles explanations of multiplication tables and critiques of essays. He judges crayon works of art - ``beautiful, sweetheart'' he says, stirring canned corn and browning ground beef for spaghetti.
When they all sit down around the table, they hold hands to say a blessing, then dig in as each child talks about the day. Afterward there's more homework, baths for the girls and bedtime stories before the lights go out.
Tomorrow, which comes too early at 4:30 a.m., will be more of the same.
At 26, Helm does not have to be there. He is not the children's father, but their uncle, and until he had to drop out last summer, he was a college student in Chicago working to become a pharmacist.
He was figuring out calculus, reading the classics and debating his teachers when his mother died from an asthma attack.
The children had been with her in Dallas. The three boys were there because their mother had died of tuberculosis, and the twin girls were often left there by a mother addicted to drugs.
``Before I knew it I had five kids,'' said Helm, who did not want to split up the children or put them into foster homes. ``What is a man who would turn his back on his family? What kind of man would I be?''
Helm's story is rare these days, when a half-million children are in foster care and 16 million nationwide live with single mothers. Too often, the men in their lives just leave.
Now the six of them live in a two-bedroom apartment in East Dallas. Instead of studying for his own classes, Helm is helping the children with theirs. Instead of going out on dates, he's correcting grammar and wiping runny noses.
His life in Chicago seems so far away, it's as if it belonged to someone else.
``If you had told me last year I'd be doing this, I'd have said, `You are kidding.' I was so carefree. It was just me, me, me. All focusing on me. And no kids,'' he said, tying one girl's shoe as the other waited for him to fix her hair. ``At first it was sort of strange, like `Quantum Leap.' But you get used to it.''
It all happened so fast.
First, he decided to stick around just long enough to see that his sister was taking proper care of the children, he said.
``She tried to get me to go back to Chicago,'' he said, ``but all she wanted was to get the benefits for all these children so she could buy drugs with it.''
Before long, his sister tested positive for marijuana and was kicked out of the Exodus program for homeless ex-convicts with families who need help getting their lives together.
Though Helm is not an ex-con, program directors at Exodus let the family stay. He gets about $500 a week in food stamps and $5.50 an hour working part time. With the money saved by being in the program, he pays off student loans and saves for when they are on their own. Their stay at Exodus has been extended until June.
``We just couldn't put him out on the street, not with those five kids,'' said Debbie Rouse, Exodus' director of ministry. ``Besides, he's a great role model. When I first met him, I thought, `This guy can't be for real,' but I'll tell you what: He is.''
``The reward is that I know my family has a chance to make it,'' he said. ``I would never want to feel that my family doesn't stand a chance. I would not have done it if I thought they would be in better hands.''
Twice a day Eugene Helm has some quiet time to himself. Once is at 4:30 a.m., before he starts waking the children. The other is on the fourth bus that gets him to his pharmacy technician job at a Kroger across town, after he drops two of the children off at Head Start.
Life with five children is hectic, at best, so he uses those moments for meditation or prayer.
Then the work begins.
Mornings start in the dark. The two oldest kids, 12-year-old Gabriel and 11-year-old Randy, sleep on a fold-out couch in the living room. Helm rousts them by singing, ``Good morning to you,'' and they groan. But, by now, they are used to the routine and roll out of bed, take showers and fold their mattress back into the sofa.
Next, Helms awakens 7-year-old Chris, who shares a room with Laeunice (Lucy for short) and Darnisha.
In Helm's room are two little chairs - a yellow one shaped like Sesame Street's Big Bird and a blue one shaped like Cookie Monster. On each chair, the 4-year-old girls' clothes for the day are laid out. On this morning: matching plaid jumpers, shirts, tights, shoes, underwear and bows for their hair.
He lets them sleep as long as possible because they are harder to control.
``The girls have a different routine. They take their baths the night before, so we just wipe them down and put some lotion and powder on and we're ready to go,'' he said. ``It took me a while to figure that out. We used to get up at four.''
Helm showers last, making sure everyone has clean clothes for the day. As they get dressed, the boys clean the house.
``It makes life easier on us,'' he said. ``It's too tiring to clean in the evening when we've got homework and dinner.''
When the girls get up at 5:45, it's time for prayer.
This particular morning, the family kneels around the girls' twin bed with the Donald Duck sheets and bow their heads. Darnisha, rubbing her eyes, recites the Lord's Prayer, and the others repeat after her.
`` ... Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. ... ''
The girls start singing ``Amen'' and clapping their hands, running from room to room.
Quiet time is over.
By the time Helm can shower and dress into his gray pinstriped suit, the sun is up, ``Sesame Street'' beams a snowy picture on the television set, and the din of morning squabbles has set in.
``Patience. Patience. Patience,'' he says as he knots his tie and sighs.
They're out the door by 7. Before walking the boys to their bus stop, Helm tells them to behave in school and to bring home notes from their teachers.
When Helm first arrived, he was alarmed to find the children behind in school. He has worked with them on math, reading comprehension and motivation.
``I see some goals they need to reach, and I want to set some standards for them to live by,'' he said. ``I want to make sure they have an identity, too, that they feel they are important. I wouldn't want to be mugged one day by one of my own nephews. I don't want them to be statistics - drug dealers or gangbangers or crackheads.''
A few weeks ago, Gabriel won a trophy in the science fair - third place for fifth grade with a tornado-in-a-bottle project. Helm did all he could to get the boys to school on awards night so Gabriel could know how it feels to be a winner.
``He's one of our more involved parents,'' said Dawn Kinard, Gabriel's teacher. ``He's positive, patient, and he's willing to implement discipline and take direction from the school.''
Gabriel, who is in a class for children with learning disabilities, has done better in school since Helm became a constant in his life, she said.
``A big part of that is feeling more confident,'' Kinard said. ``Instilling self-esteem is one of the most important things you can do for a child. The kind of involvement I get from Eugene is rare for a father figure.''
Within their routine, the children know what to expect and what is expected of them. ``Uncle is fun. He takes care of us and keeps us out of trouble,'' said Randy, who often calls Helm ``Pops.''
Helm rules with discipline and understanding. He wants them to feel free to be open and honest with him.
``I've learned by trial and error that you have to be strong. If you show weakness or they think they have the upper hand, kids will walk all over you,'' he said.
The children have seen a lot. The girls' mother is in jail. The boys watched two people they loved die. They have an uncle in prison. They've seen people smoking crack, and they used to live in a neighborhood where they would run to their bedroom when they heard gunshots.
``They have seen too much,'' Helm said. ``I want them to have a childhood where they can feel safe and know what's going to happen from day to day.''
Helm knows what it's like to grow up in a tough neighborhood. As a kid, he lived in South Dallas, where he got into fights and so much trouble his mother sent him to live with his father in Chicago.
``My mother was a wise woman,'' he said. ``That changed my life.''
In Chicago, he went to a Catholic school, became president of the student council and a member of the National Honor Society.
In Chicago, he also fell in love with Taneen Terrell, now a 25-year-old preschool teacher.
But after he got to Dallas, he stopped calling her. He didn't want her to feel she had to help him or feel guilty if she did not.
He figured that part of his life was over. Even if he could think about dating, there is the problem of finding a baby sitter.
One day when he was feeling low, the phone rang at work. It was Terrell, who had tracked him down and wanted to know what had happened to him.
When she learned, she still wanted to be with him. Recently she traveled to Dallas to meet the children.
``I really wanted to come with an open mind, but five kids, when you're used to staying by yourself, you think of the noise,'' she said. ``But you know what? They love each other, and they're so good. I fell in love with them too.''
While visiting, she cooked dinner, and afterward Gabriel and Randy jumped up to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. Chris vacuumed the living room. She was stunned. And she gives her future husband the credit.
``For a man his age to do what he's doing is amazing,'' she said. ``But for him not to be in school is a great loss. He's a very good student. He gave up everything, including me, to do this. But it's in his character.
``How could he know they were out there and not try?'' she asked. ``I love him all the more for it. We couldn't be happy if we didn't try.''
The two are planning a July wedding and hope to get the entire family into a house.
Until then, he's on his own, relying on public transportation and the support of Exodus, Head Start and friends at two churches.
For Helm, the kids are the hope for the future. And, he says, he simply wants to give them one.
At the end of the day, he gets his own reward.
``Hey unkie,'' Darnisha says, pulling at him. ``Do you know that I love you?''
``No, I love you,'' Lucy chimes in.
He smiles and hugs them both.
``I love you, too.''
LENGTH: Long : 192 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: KRT. Eugene Helm makes sure that his instant family ofby CNByoung nieces and nephews always says grace. color.