The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car slowed to a stop at the end of a winding driveway, kicking up a small cloud of dust in the cool air. Delores Janush peered through the windshield at the charming brick house in front of her. Its exterior was pristine and well-maintained, and the greenery surrounding the home was stunning. The expansive fields behind the house stretched endlessly toward the horizon, their muted green blended into the autumn sky. As a Michigan native, nothing before her resembled what she left behind.
Janush remembered stepping out of the car and standing in the front yard, taking in the sight of the house. She laughs now about her hesitation to step out of the truck, but back then, that reluctance was real — her gait, affected by polio, made each step in her life uncertain. Reflecting on those early years reminds her of how far she’s come since childhood, when every step was both a challenge and a triumph.
Born in 1931, during the Great Depression era, Janush became what the community referred to as a “poster child” for polio.
“My feet were twisted. My toes were where my heels should have been, and vice versa. I didn’t have any real surgery on my legs until I was about 10 or 11. It was mostly therapy.”
Despite her mother not driving, they made it to all her appointments by catching streetcars every week. Her mother constantly supported and accompanied her every step of the way.
Living with polio and being one of the first children to do so influenced much of her outlook on life and inspired her to help others overcome their own obstacles.
Determined to turn her challenges into good, Janush spent much of her time volunteering and campaigning for children with illnesses. Her first experience involved working on a campaign with Scatman Crothers from “The Shining,” which she found to be a remarkable and memorable opportunity. She even had the honor of lighting the Christmas tree for the campaign.
She also joined Franklin D. Roosevelt’s March of Dimes to raise awareness for children with polio.
Basements became her volunteer workspace for a little while as she answered calls for the Easter Seals Campaign and the Jerry Lewis Telethon (A Labor Day Telethon for the Muscular Dystrophy Association).
Years later, in 1994, when Janush and her husband, Jerry, first arrived in Franklin County, she was anything but convinced this side of Tennessee would become home. At the time, she and Jerry, whom she fondly called her “rock,” had spent years building a life back home in Michigan. The prospect of packing up and relocating to an expansive new home in the country felt foreign and uncertain.
“I said, ‘I don’t want to move here. I want to stay home,’” Delores recalled, her voice soft yet full of memories from that time.
The home she left behind in Michigan was all she had ever known — its streets flooded with memories and snow-covered landscapes stretching endlessly in the winter. It had always felt like the place where everything made sense.
Delores stayed seated for a moment longer. The air smelled different here — earthy and still — nothing like the brisk, familiar chill of Michigan that she had known for so long. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to turn to the next chapter.
Jerry was insistent upon moving. He had dreamed for so long of a peaceful retirement surrounded by nature and wide-open spaces.
The brick house stood quietly on the land, seemingly untouched by time. There was a certain elegance in the way it rested at the center of the property.
Its quaint porch invited her to stay.
The moment she stepped out of the truck and into the home, more than just the house was sold.
The inside was well-adorned with decorations. The walls were lined with memories she couldn’t see; there were stories deep inside the wood long before they had arrived.
Aside from her new home, there was something special about Franklin County that grew on Delores — something both the house and the community shared: the feeling of being grounded. The moment they moved in, Delores was ready to dive into community involvement.
“Jerry started doing things around the house, and I said, ‘I’m going to go into town, and I’m going to see if there are things that I can volunteer for.’”
She began volunteering with the Franklin County Chamber of Commerce and soon became a familiar face at local events and fundraisers. Delores’ natural hospitality and kindness made her a perfect fit for the community. Soon, she was a friend to everyone — always there with a helping hand or a kind word. And the town embraced her right back.
One of Delores’ most memorable moments at the chamber was when a single mother came to her for help. The woman was struggling to make ends meet and needed groceries and necessities for her child and grandchild. The system seemed stacked against her, but Delores knew there had to be a way. That’s when she shared her plan with a couple of chamber leadership members, and Judy Taylor, the chamber’s executive director at the time, graciously stepped in to offer her support.
“We went to Walmart,” Delores said. “I gave the woman a buggy, and she went around making her selections. Judy and I bought food for her, and Judy delivered it to the home.”
After working part time for the chamber, Delores transitioned to a full-time position in March 1999. She excelled in bookkeeping and banking tasks but also proved a natural salesperson, securing donations, sponsorships, and advertising for the chamber. Despite her busy schedule, she continued volunteering for organizations like Kiwanis, Highland Rim Garden Club, and Winchester Garden Club.
From 2000 to 2015, she and Jerry volunteered for the Salvation Army’s Red Kettle Campaign outside of Walmart during the holiday season.
Unfortunately, Jerry passed away in October 2021, but he left behind remnants of his kindness, strength, and devotion. He even expanded the home to create a room for Delores to work and enjoy hobbies. Though the loss was immense, Delores found strength in the community they had grown to love together.
“He was a great helper. He picked up my slack. I can’t think of a time that he wasn’t with me at a function.”
At 93, Delores still talks about her love for Franklin County as if she had just arrived. She remembers her first days with equal nostalgia and humility. A move that once felt uncertain has become a chapter of her life that she wouldn’t trade for the world. In the brick house that once seemed so unfamiliar, she found a home and an abode where she and Jerry’s love continues to live on in every corner and every conversation.
“I’m just so grateful,” she said, “to have had all of this.” GN
