about the homeless teens in Saint John, NB!

Our doorbell rang last night, it was eleven o’clock.   My granddaughter Marcia went down to answer the door.   As suspected, the caller was Marcia’s friend, a teen who is living on the street.  The teen was in rough shape, crying and coaxing to spend the night.  Marcia refused and sent her friend on her way.

Homelessness is an extreme form of poverty characterized by the instability of housing and the inadequacy of income, health care supports and social supports. Homelessness includes absolute (living on the street or chronic) homelessness, sheltered homelessness, hidden homelessness, and those who are at-risk of homelessness or unstably housed. from

A PORTRAIT OF HOMELESSNESS IN GREATER SAINT JOHN’, Written by: Belinda Allen, Published by: Human Development Council March 2008

This was an emotional difficult action for Marcia; to turn her back on her friend.  How does this happen in our small city that there is a homeless teen?  The scenario from my viewpoint is rebellious teen does not get along with parents, begins using drugs i.e. smoking pot.  Now some of my acquaintances tell me that smoking pot is not doing drugs and that everyone does it.  Well I don’t!  It has been my experience that in many, many cases pot is a gateway drug.  For this teen, that was the case. The teen was smoking cigarettes, then pot, then drinking and soon they committed an illegal act.  Then off to a residential drug facility.  But the teen did not last there and was evicted for not following the rules.  Fast forward a year and the teen has been in an out of every facility and sinking further.  Yet there is so little acknowledgement of teens living on the street that I could find only a few images for my blog.  The teens move from shelters to coach surfing with friends.  But as the friends are also teens the hosts are actually the parents.  The couch surfing teen invariably wears out their welcome by their actions.

Some twenty years ago my youngest daughter came home crying that one of her friends had been “kicked out” of his home. She said he was a great guy, an excellent student, had a part time job etc. I had an extra room and he moved in.  We had no real problems but this fellow’s first and foremost interest was drugs.  Yes, living with us made it possible for him to finish high school, however some twenty years have passed, he lives in a major Canadian city and his first loyalty is to his habit.  With the wisdom of time and adulthood my daughter feels we did nothing to change the course of his life.

And why did Marcia not bring her friend in, or at least coax us to let them stay?   Because Marcia knows her friend is not to be trusted.  The friend has a habit of theft and upset and Marcia does not want that for her grandparents or herself.

Homelessness for teens starts the minute a parent says “you’re kicked out”.  If you or someone you know is having difficult times with your teens I beg you to consider alternate solutions.  However, should you came home and find your house demolished, the teen physically attacking other family members or stealing/selling your possessions there is probably no other option that making them leave.  Never worry about others knowing of your problems, there are many families in the same circumstance. 

We love these children so, so much.  The last thing we want is to see them sleeping in the Market Square Parking garage.  Every parent shall act as their conscious dictates.  Remember children and teens pattern what they see.  It is impossible to preach abstinence in a home where parents are abusing substances.  There may be some cases in which non using teens from well-rounded families go off to live on the streets as a lark.  That is not the case in Saint John. 

 But no one asked me about the homeless teens in Saint John, NB!

About Eggs for Easter

 

When I was a child we had a unique Easter custom.  A contest to see which family member could eat the most eggs at our Easter Sunday Breakfast.  We must have had some small treat, and some years we dyed hard boiled eggs, however it was the egg eating competition which fired our imagination.  All of the family participated, however everyone knew that Dad, Rodney and I were the real contenders.  To train for the competition Rodney and I would eliminate eggs from our breakfast menu at least a week in advance of the event.

We had moved to my Mother’s home community when I was eight.  Soon after the move, we discovered that some families celebrated holidays quite differently than was our custom.  For the family of my best friend, Easter was a second Christmas.  They would receive a large toy, like a bike, smaller toys, clothing, a large chocolate item and many Easter Eggs.  Rodney’s best friend also received a similar haul.  But were we envious?  No, we had our Egg Eating competition.  As an adult I decided that Mother had started the competition so we would have our own special ritual.  In our church community eggs were tied to Easter as symbols of spring and new life.  What better symbolism could she have chosen?

Easter morning would arrive and we gathered at the table.  For the contenders there was no bacon/ham, toast or juice.  Rodney and I only ate the eggs.  We would start with boiled, usually I preferred soft but then I would need toast to dip in the yolk; so hard boiled it was.   We would eat about three. 

Then we would move on to the fried, over easy eggs.  But they are also best with toast so it was fried with a hard yolk; ketchup helped them down, I could eat three – Rodney could do more. 

Fluffy scrambled eggs would be our final method.  Even after six eggs it is easy to finish a plate of four or five scrambled beauties.  I aimed for a total of ten and once made it to eleven!   Dad ate fifteen that morning complete with ham and toast. 

Rodney Vail - champion egg eater

Rodney claims he only had seven but I am sure he outnumbered me. He had a hollow leg and he always followed our breakfast with a second one at his friend Brian’s.   In the Egg eating competition there was no question, my brother Rodney Vail was king.

My Mother was here yesterday for Easter Dinner and I asked her about our childhood competition.  Imagine my surprise when Mother told me that ours was not original, it had also been a ritual in her childhood.     Their competition had been done with a twist.  A pail of their own farm eggs would be boiled… Yes a milk pail that held two and a half gallons; so I am thinking they used four to five dozen eggs.  When the eggs were cooked they would assemble at the table.  As Mother was remembering a time before the Second World War there were probably ten of the twelve children home, plus Grampy and Grammy.  Then the race would begin.  Anyone who could peel an egg fast had an advantage.  The contest continued until the eggs were eaten or everyone had their fill.    Mother could not remember a winner but was sure it would have been one of the older brothers. 

It has been many years since our family held an egg eating competition on Easter morning.  Perhaps next year I will re-establish the practice.

if Jesus is Risen

It was Easter Sunday, a glorious morning, I am in church and the sun is streaming through the stained glass windows.  There is a sense of anticipation ………. then the trumpet sounds!  As one the congregation rises to their feet, the trumpet fanfare fades and the song begins, “He is risen”.   Did someone sing or did I hear the words in my head?   “He is Risen here today, he’s no longer where he lay, He is risen for I feel him in my soul!” 

Is that Christ Is see?  Raised once more from the dead and floating here before me?   I am ten, I am crying, I turn to my Grandmother.

Rewind, my Grandmother Lottie Rogers and I were visiting the Pentecostal Church in Plaster Rock, New Brunswick this Easter season.  The church was having special meetings, accommodation was provided on the church premises and Grammy and I were roomies.  Grammy had a long affiliation with this church,( more about that in future blogs), for even in the early 1960’s the Plaster Rock church was “out there”.  One of their teachings was that woman must cover their hair before God, (I am thinking, not so different from our Muslim counterparts), and there were beautiful and absurd bonnets in the congregation on that day. 

Not the bright blonde space of my memories and no stained glass, but there is a balconey - of sorts

The church building was rather grand compared to our rural churches.  In my mind it was blond wood, stained glass, sunlight and balconies.  The images available do not support my concept.  There was either a physical remodel or my fifty year old memory has blurred the image. However a church is just a building, a real church is the people and the interaction.  My interaction was with a party of one. 

I turned to Grammy and sobbed that Jesus had risen, or had come back (we called it the second coming), and I was not ready.  Grammy gave me a hanky, told me to blow my nose and that I was witnessing the Easter pageant.   I learned much later that the congregation was known for their theatre.  My beliefs started to waver that day.  It took fifty years before I could reclaim them as my own.  For ten year old Valerie Vail, Jesus did arise that Easter morning, complete with trumpet, sunshine and streaming sunshine.   How do I know?  “I can feel him/her in my heart”.

Happy Easter