Helen Rose Gamino

She was stardust. She was golden. She was a child of the ‘60s who could make you feel like you were trying to hold a moonbeam in your hand.

So, it is devastating to report that the sui generis Helen Rose Gamino died on April 5, 2025, in Oklahoma City surrounded by family who couldn’t get enough of her. She had just celebrated her 63rd birthday on March 29 with ice cream, balloons and her one constant request for birthdays: “store-bought cake.”

Helen was born in 1962 with Down syndrome but refused to ever accept that she had a disability or a difference. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. She embraced life with joy, love, comedy, pride, intelligence, empathy and a steady side of sass. Her fun-loving spirit created a cult following among family and friends from coast to coast. Many became pen pals, receiving Helen’s hand-written, stream-of-consciousness letters in which the vowel “o” was shaped like a little heart.

Many of her regular expressions became known as “Helenisms,” such as “Don’t look at me!” when someone asked what happened to the last piece of pecan pie. Or if she was questioned about an issue she didn’t know much about, she would cover by simply saying, “Well, some do, some don’t.” And sometimes she liked to dress in odd combinations of three layers of clothing, then come out of her bedroom, twirl around and ask, “You likey?”

Helen’s sunny and playful personality was, as one friend put it, a “beam of light” in a large and boisterous Catholic family. She excelled academically, graduating as valedictorian of her public high school special education class in 1983. For 20 years, she worked as a kitchen assistant for John Carroll Catholic grade school, from which her seven brothers and sisters had graduated. Co-workers Shannon, Markie and Faith were like family.

Despite Helen’s skills and abilities, there were no opportunities in Oklahoma City in the 1980s for her to live independently or in a group home, so she continued to live with her loving parents, Mabel Rose and Joe.

Helen was a huge fan of TV and movies. Cop shows were her favorite, and she fell hard for Erik Estrada on CHiPS. Then she moved on to worship Tim Daly on Wings. She laughed herself silly at Tyler Perry’s Madea films while eating M&M’s. Her best sport was riding roller coasters—front row, hands in the air. Over and over again. She was a proud adrenaline junkie.

She was also a bookworm, like the rest of her family. Nancy Drew was her closest buddy. Helen inhaled the mysteries until she thought she was Nancy Drew. When Helen’s sisters flew her to Vegas to meet their brothers as a surprise for her 40th birthday, Helen realized what was afoot before they even got to the hotel. “I think this Nancy Drew just about has this all figured out,” she said. She loved to go to a bookstore or library and sit in front of the Nancy Drew section to sort the numbered series into proper sequence.

And Helen was unstoppable on a dance floor, a true dancing queen. Disco was her favorite, but her gift for rhythm propelled her through any music genre. At weddings, she was the first one on the dance floor and the last to leave. Once, she refused to part with her slice of wedding cake, so she tried to hold her plate and boogie, too. That didn’t work for the Macarena! Party bling was important to her. She adored colorful Mardi Gras beads, piling them on as thick necklaces of purple, gold and green strands. The more, the better.

Helen was never a passive observer; she was a player. She cruised to Alaska and flew to Hawaii to visit Pearl Harbor, the 1941 bombing site that inspired her parents to become young U.S. Army officers and serve their country, her mother as an R.N. in England and her father as a B-25 navigator in the Pacific Theater. Helen also made a pilgrimage to Memphis to visit Graceland, home of her musical idol Elvis. She had a double dose of fun because she insisted that she saw Michael Jackson there.

Many summers, Helen flew by herself to Austin, Texas (assisted by brother John in Dallas to change planes at Love Field) to vacation with her journalist sister Denise and brother-in-law Jay. Helen accompanied them to their jobs at the Austin American-Statesman, whose newsroom quickly adopted her. The minute a top editor named Sharon saw that Helen was back in town, she rushed to Whole Foods to buy a “store-bought” chocolate cake for the celebrity visitor. Helen sorted press releases for reporters and shredded old notebooks. Once, she brought a pair of binoculars to the newsroom to check out the cute guys across the room.

Helen had many friends in Austin, including Janet and Vance, who took her tubing on Lake Austin behind their speed boat; Hector, the homicide detective who talked cop shop lingo with her; and Ave, the famous documentary photographer who baked sourdough bread for her. The political city suited Helen, who always voted Democrat. She believed she was part Texan and liked to brag that she voted for Ann Richards for Texas governor in 1990 even though she was registered to vote in Oklahoma. She paid attention to national politics, too. After Ronald Reagan was elected President in 1980, she didn’t appreciate him declaring that ketchup was a vegetable for school lunches. She wrote a letter to the White House complaining about his deep budget cuts to social services. She told him, “And I don’t even like jellybeans,” the candy Reagan famously kept on his Oval Office desk. Helen also had a hand-written letter exchange during the ‘80s with then-U.S. Congressman Mickey Edwards of Oklahoma City about the havoc of Daylight Saving Time.

Twice a year when the time changed, Helen was thoughtful enough to check in with her siblings to remind them to reset their clocks. She also kept track of their birthdays. On New Year’s Day, she took a new wall calendar and looked up which day of the week the birthday of each brother and sister would fall on that year. She memorized each date so she could inform her siblings which day of the week she would sing her off-key version of Happy Birthday by phone or in person.

The way to Helen’s big heart was often through her stomach. Anything chocolate was automatically “definitely a 10.” She excelled at the fine art of after-hours refrigerator raiding, a sneaky skill that earned her the nickname of “kitchen mouse.” She silently tip-toed to the fridge, grabbed a leftover dessert, but then gave herself away by pounding the floor as she ran back to her bedroom. If someone came to check out the commotion, she hid the contraband food as fast as possible, even if she had to stuff it under her T-shirt. If questioned, she replied, with chocolate on her face, “Who? Moi?!”

She could be stubborn and sometimes flashed a temper, too. But she always apologized. One of her trademark ways of asking forgiveness was getting down on her knees and then scooting in that position across several rooms to face the person whose feelings she had hurt. With head bowed and hands clasped in a prayer position, she said, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” She was immediately pardoned.

Helen was a proud feminist, too, and did not suffer fools who called her a girl. “I’m a woman,” she declared.

After Joe Gamino died in 2007, Helen and Mabel Rose moved to St. Ann, the Catholic independent living complex in Oklahoma City. Their tight mother-daughter bond kept each other going for 15 years in a homey, two-bedroom apartment. Helen loved to roam the halls at St. Ann and collect magazines from the reading tables when no one was looking. She had many tote bags filled with magazines and used some of the colorful pages to cut and glue into art collages.

Helen eventually developed dementia and interstitial lung disease, common comorbidities for individuals with Down syndrome who are fortunate to live a long life. She required a high level of supplemental oxygen at all times. After Mabel Rose died in 2022, Helen was so medically fragile that she needed 24-hour care, which her siblings, scattered across the country, could not provide on their own. Helen moved into a Heaven House assisted living group home in Oklahoma City, and her care was meticulously monitored by her sister Laura, a registered nurse who was Helen’s legal guardian and surely responsible for extending Helen’s lifespan. Helen’s family visited regularly at all hours, usually bearing her favorite treats—a chocolate milkshake from Braum’s or a caramel frappe from McDonald’s.

Helen was our angel on Earth and now she has her wings.

Helen is survived by her “sibbies”: Danny, John (Jacquelyn), Louis (Marla), Denise (Jay), Laura, Ray (Lisa) and Gary (Michelle); nieces and nephews: Christa, Brad, Micah, Eric, Chris, Juliana, Gabe, Claire, Dominic, Rachael, Julianne, John, Becky, Rachel, Daniel, Shelly and Allyson; numerous cousins and great nieces and nephews; and her life-long imaginary friends Biddy and Shorty.

She was predeceased by her parents; many aunts, uncles and cousins; sister-in-law Eloise; and nephews Anthony Francis Yarnell and Bro Hogue.

A prayer service will be held on Friday, April 11, 2025, at 7 p.m. at Smith & Kernke Funeral Home, 14624 N. May Ave., OKC 73134. Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated on Saturday, April 12 at 1 p.m. at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, 3214 N. Lake St., OKC 73118, followed by a reception in the cathedral’s Connor Center. Afterward, burial will be at Resurrection Memorial Cemetery, 7801 NW Expressway, OKC 73132. In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to Catholic Charities OKC, which provided grief counseling to Helen.