Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Tag: foster care

  • Random Memories

    I cried the first night at the foster home.

    I had been picked up by the police the Friday before, spent the weekend in a group home and then the day with a social worker before arriving. No tears during all of that but that night in own room of the new foster home I cried. Maybe it had finally sunk in that everything I had done that led me to this place all caught up to me, there was no where else to go.

    I hadn’t ever faced consequences of any kind prior to this – not skipping school, smoking or drinking, stealing and vandalism never brought me any time. Until this time… until the one time myself or a friend had the “clever” idea to take the hinges off the locked door. I still believe that had we only taken the time to put the door back on the hinges I would have never been caught. Interesting that that’s the thought that still comes even after 30 years. (more…)

  • Rescued #fosterhome

    It’s National Foster Care month and I’m an advocate of people becoming foster parents and even of kids joining the system when the situation warrants it. Not every parent, household or family is a safe place for a kid – but you could make a difference in a kid’s life just by offering stability, food, & shelter.

    I write about this a lot – not just during this month but during the regular course of year when I reflect on being saved, rescued from a certain path. The only poem I’ve ever written that mattered to me is here:

    foster home (more…)

  • The Difference

    I was at a small birthday celebration for a friend Friday night when I overheard one of the attendees talking about being a foster parent. I listened as best I could over the din of the bar. You should have heard this woman talk about some of the kids she had come through her house – she talked with joy, pride and sadness, sadness that some of them were now back in danger again. She’s also a teacher, elementary school I think, and that in itself should be considered a superhero, the foster parent doubly so.

    I’m a product of Foster Care, I wasn’t really in any danger, but I was one of those kids that lacked proper supervision and was amok in most parts of my life. When I entered my foster home for the first time I tried to talk myself into running the first day – nothing bad had happened, but these people just didn’t understand me and couldn’t possibly keep up with me. My Ma had plenty of foster kids before me and was more than a match for my teenaged ideas of right and wrong.

    My Ma and Pa held me responsible for my own actions – I had to wake up to my own alarm clock for school each day, I had chores, I received allowance, I had dinner every night at the table with the family (seemed stupid at the time, but it was something I came to look forward to each day and long for today). In my foster home I didn’t fear anyone coming home drunk in a rage to beat up anyone else, I didn’t worry about having food for dinner, I found peace. I wrote a poem about it a few years ago you can find here: (Foster Home) and I’ve pasted it here too

    brown house now blue

    gray hair then and now too

    Ma in rocker knitting

    Pa in recliner

    fear crawls up my spine

    my bags packed, all that is mine

    social worker pressures shoulder

    keeps me from running

    dinner together, conversation and laughter

    alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty

    tears delay that first night,

    though hard fought, buried deep

    rules, responsibility, chores

    wake up myself for school

    wash dishes, mow lawns

    allowance? what’s that?

    foster brother and i

    share smokes and stories

    on the front patio

    now enclosed, then exposed

    three years teach me, show me love me

    five years gone, back i come to make right

    show them i’ve found the light

    love unconditional, no exceptions

    dc bound, to find my way

    just call anytime

    no questions asked

    you can always come home

    breast cancer scare,

    tears unhindered

    stream down my cheeks

    fear strikes deep and hard

    twenty years later, college bound

    ma and pa, rhonda and greg

    come to see the sites,

    nope!

    to see me off, wish me well, show me love

    the family i didn’t choose

    forced upon me by action of youth

    became the one that mattered most

    showed me the truth of love itself

    When my Pa died a few years ago it … it still brings tears to my eyes… I decided to change my name to honor him. That’s the kind of impact they had on me – I owe my life to them (to AA too, yes) and have had so much opportunity as a result of everything they gave me.

    I’m not a foster parent, I’m not very patient with kids, but I urge you to be. I urge you to be the person that makes a difference in the life of a child, show them that not all parents are irresponsible, hurtful and mean. Show them a path that leads to a better life… and make sure you hug them, kids need hugs.

    Here are some links about foster care, if you’re interested give them a read and help make a difference.

    http://www.adoptuskids.org/for-families/how-to-foster

    http://www.fosterparents.com

    http://nfpaonline.org

    http://www.kidspeace.org/Foster.aspx

  • Breaking and Entering

    Back in 1985  or 86 I wasn’t the most well behaved individual.

    On a particular school day me and a couple of friends skipped out and were looking for some money to get beer, cigarettes and maybe score some pot. I had been lifting $20s out of my grandmothers purse for quite a long time but this day she wasn’t home and we were desperate.

    She had this door in the house that she kept padlocked and that of course means there must be money in there (teenage thinking). We didn’t know how to pick the lock but the hinges were on the outside of the door with the lock and someone suggested we just take the door off the hinges – brilliant.

    We ruffled around in that room for probably 20 minutes and maybe found $15 – and left. My grandmothers probably wouldn’t have ever known we were in there except we didn’t put the door back on the hinges…. /doh

    As a result of that break in I was shipped off to foster care a few days later – really one of the best things that ever happened to me.

    Flash-Forward 2013

    There is no key to the supply closet door, someone the previous night had locked it – trying to be helpful or something. So this morning I couldn’t get in there.

    The life I live now is such that taking the door off the hinges didn’t even cross my mind. When other folks arrived and we explained what had happened THEY did it and it brought that memory back to me of how simple it was…

    Let me assure you, I wasn’t going to be the new guy that got fired for breaking into the supply closet … but it was cool that someone else knew exactly what to do (the door had been locked before).

    Also, let this be a lesson to you about security… hinges on the inside of locked rooms.