THE SPECIAL CHILDREN’S CENTER BREAKFAST
SOPHIA FRANCO
IMAGINE A 21-YEAR-OLD GIRL, RUSHED INTO AN EMERGENCY C-SECTION, AS SHE GIVES BIRTH TO HER FIRST BABY. AFTER A DIFFICULT BIRTH, THE DOCTORS INSTRUCT THE MOM TO WATCH HER SON CAREFULLY. AT FIRST, SHE’S SURE NOTHING BAD WILL HAPPEN. EVERYTHING ALWAYS WENT SMOOTHLY FOR HER, AND SHE ALWAYS CONSIDERED HERSELF BLESSED. SHE GREW UP IN A HAPPY, SAFE, AND SHELTERED ENVIRONMENT. SHE AND HER HUSBAND WERE CHILDHOOD SWEETHEARTS. EVERYTHING WOULD BE FINE.
When her son was six months old, the mom knew something wasn’t right. The doctors told her that he wouldn’t be able to talk or have much cognitive ability. She was shocked, incredulous. She screamed and yelled, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t make any sense.
When they calmed down, the couple made the decision to be extremely proactive, and it was intense. Their son was a happy and fun-loving child, but summers in Jersey were dreadful. There was no camp for him, and though the mom had heard of the Special Children’s Center, she had a stereotypical view of it, and could not picture her son there. She recalls, “The real strength would have been asking for help but I was not ready.”
Her sister, who had volunteered at Special Children’s Center for years, actually begged her to call for help, but the mom just wasn’t having it. “I was actually insulted that she thought he belonged there.”
Years passed, and the family struggled. The child never developed his speech, and wasn’t able to play functionally. “I was suffering silently,” the mom recalls, with tears in her eyes. “I remember watching other parents playing in the sand with their kids, or at the pool, or taking them to mini golf, or a restaurant. It was the little things in life I had started to appreciate. Nothing would ever be taken for granted again. I had that superhero mindset, but I was really exhausted.”
This is the hidden story of so many mothers of special children. Unfortunately, it is common. The moms are sure their child is not like the others. They are convinced he or she will improve with time and support, and they will “figure it out.” They buckle down, and decide that they will be strong, and go it alone, but they don’t have to. Jenine Shwekey and Chaya Bender have made sure of that over the last twenty years. To give mothers like her strength, Ruthie Terzi courageously chose to share her experience with her son Ronnie at the Special Children’s Center breakfast at Lisa and Lee Cohen’s home this past July. The morning was especially beautiful, but as Ruthie spoke, there was silence, and not a dry eye in the house.
“It wasn’t until Covid hit that my world turned upside down. I had three kids. Ronnie’s school had shut down indefinitely. He had started to change, and was becoming unmanageable. We would get that sweet happy boy a lot, but sometimes, we just couldn’t recognize him. He couldn’t tell us what he needed or wanted; he was frustrated, and we were frustrated.”
Ruthie knew she needed help very badly, but could not make the call. “It was Ronnie and me, 24/7. He wasn’t happy or stimulated, and he wasn’t getting the attention he needed. On top of it, another baby was on the way, and I was petrified. Everything I had done for him was falling apart. I needed to get my life under control.”
Sitting with Ronnie on her mom’s porch, in 90-degree heat in August, 2021, Ruthie decided, “There had to be more for this boy.” All these years she was too proud to call Special Children’s Center, but now, she was ready. “I remember Googling the number, and making the call. I spoke to a receptionist, introduced myself, and told them about Ronnie. The next day I went in for an intake.”
At this point in her story, you could actually see Ruthie calming down. You could actually hear her take a long-awaited breath. She was finally home.
Ruthie continued, “I walked into that Lakewood building for that first time, in awe. Wow, I thought. I saw so many different types of kids. Yes, some were in wheelchairs, some had Down syndrome, some were autistic, but so many were just like Ronnie. This place was a dream. The counselors were singing, dancing and laughing, with kids on their shoulders, going from one activity to the next. The kids were so happy. Ronnie would thrive here, I thought.”
Like so many mothers who finally allow themselves to receive the help they desperately need, Ruthie was in shock. She could not believe this place existed. She continued, “A second home for special children; state-of-the-art classrooms, jungle gym, lunchroom, pool, showers; they had everything and anything a boy could dream of. I remember Yentee, the director, explaining, ‘the Center has a program every single day until school starts, including Sundays. If there’s no program, we’ll send you someone, and if you ever need a break on Shabbat, we have a Center House.’ And then she added, ‘We’ll pick him up from Deal tomorrow.’ It was such a relief to not have to explain to someone what I needed, they just knew.”
For seven whole years Ruthie was lost in the dark. “Why did I wait so long to ask for help?” She cried. “I can’t believe I spent all those years burning myself out. I finally felt relief. As the parents of a special child, we don’t have the power to make life fair, but we do have the power to make life joyful. And that’s what the Special Children’s Center does.”
Ruthie explained that Ronnie went to the Center that morning on a bus full of Syrian kids, to a huge round of applause. “He went to pre-camp, and post-camp, like all the other kids, and attends every program offered. G-d bless, he’s a little world traveler now. The Center has taken him away the last three winter vacations, so that I could go away and enjoy my other three kids. He’s been with them on a Royal Caribbean cruise, he went to Disney World and Florida. This year we wanted to go away as a family for Passover. I would only be able to do it if his two counselors would come along. G-d bless them, angels that they are, we had an amazing trip. They are giving my son the best possible life, and that’s my vision for him.”
The Center’s love and attention for each child in their care does not end there. On the day of Ruthie’s son’s brit, she got a call from Jenine. Ruthie continued, “They wanted to take Ronnie to the Center House so that I could have time with the new baby. I was afraid that Ronnie was going to feel abandoned, but also knew he was in the best hands. I vividly remember looking at my husband after Shabbat dinner. I took a deep breath, and said ‘wow.’ The stress that they have taken off me was massive. Ronnie came home Sunday night showered, fed and had all his medicine, but most importantly he was happy. That was the first sleepover of many, many more to come. I had finally let go, and put my trust in someone else.”
The Special Children’s Center is a literal lifeline for these families. At the breakfast, you could feel the love. Yaakov Shwekey sang heartily with the children. Richie Dweck, strong leader that he is, described the true, authentic working farm at the Center and all its benefits, and the incredible renovation of the new Brooklyn location, explaining that all of this, while wonderful, needs constant funding. Harry Adjmi being Harry; roused and inspired the crowd; recognizing the goodness of so many people hard at work, and compelling, as always, each of us to stand tall in our commitments and in our support of a community that leans on each other. We are blessed.
Lee Cohen, host for the morning, explained, “I’ve heard about the SCC so many times, but when I went to visit the Lakewood campus, it was a defining moment. I thought there were 20 kids, maybe 40 kids — I had no idea. When I pulled up, I was shocked. It wasn’t just a small building with a few classrooms. It was a huge, magnificent campus. There were 500 children there! Kids were laughing outside with foam and bubbles, swarming us. ‘Can you sing like Yaakov Shwekey?’ I’d heard about Jenine and Chaya, but I didn’t understand. They are miracle workers! The kids were smiling, laughing, singing, swimming and having so much fun. It was incredible to see, and forever embodied in my mind.”
His wife Lisa added, “We were mesmerized. They got a 200-pound cake for my daughter Caroline’s birthday! My 23-year-old son fell in love with the kids, and can’t wait to have them over again. The Center is magical! Norma Cohen, running ten shows at once, created an enchanted day for us. Harry Adjmi, Elliot Tawil, Richie Dweck, Jenine and Chaya all brought their energy to our home and explained how much it meant for us to host. We were very blessed that they chose us, and blessed that we could do it. We are on a high!”
“Loving is giving, and giving is life.” I wrote these words for the song I Can Be more than ten years ago. Today, as I continue to learn and grow, and watch the community pouring out their love and support, I know that I was on the right track. G-d bless, we are so lucky. This community stands united and unwavering, and the Center wants to give back. Chaya Bender explained, “Last year, 7,000 people came to see Yaakov perform at the summer concert. This year, on August 27th, we are going to do it all over again, and even better! The special kids will be performing alongside Yaakov, and it will be a night of unity and strength for all this community stands for.”
Ruthie doesn’t look back on her life, only moves forward. She continued, “The harsh reality is that the goal of special needs kids is to keep them home as long as possible, because no one can give them more love than their parents. The Center makes that possible. Ronnie is a special child but he is our biggest blessing. He has taught my family to be kind and empathetic and grateful. We don’t complain or worry about the small things. We know what real problems look like. We don’t judge anyone or stare at anyone because we know how it feels when people do it to us. The Special Children’s Center is not an option. It is a necessity.”
Thank you to Norma Cohen and her daughter Lydia for their flawless execution and patience, Harry and Alice Adjmi, and Gayle Krost for their constant love and devotion, and especially to Ruthie Terzi. She is the face of every mother of a special child who has, or has not yet, walked through our doors. Thank you for your honesty, candor and bravery. It wasn’t easy to tell your story, and you did it with grace, elegance and courage. Bravo.
To volunteer or donate please visit ThecenterNJ.org or call (732)367-0099.
Sophia Franco is a community writer. Among essays, songs and biographies she also composed I Can Be, We are a Miracle and I Am Alive for Yaakov Shwekey.
