Tag Archives: counselor

THE BELLS OF ST. VINCENT’S

The older I become, the more I find myself looking back on my past instead of looking forward to my future. I suppose that’s normal to some extent, given my present age. I will give you a hint: I retired at sixty-two. And that was ten years ago. I enjoyed working, but unfortunately, I developed a health issue. I was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, and the left side of my heart was enlarged.

Apparently, this heart problem can be an inherited trait. My mother had the same heart issue and still lived to see seventy-seven. My mother was one of the most caring and unselfish people I have ever known. She always put everyone’s needs ahead of her own. I never heard her say a hurtful word to or about anyone. 

I am a person who has spent a large portiion of my working life working in Social Services. In my own way, I think I have always tried to emulate my mother. At the beginning of my work life, I was a dental assistant, and at one point, I was an oral surgeon assistant when I was living in California. I worked with Doctor Snyder. His office was a long distance from where I was living in Lompoc, and so I looked for employment that was closer to my residence. In 1977, I found a job working at Robinson’s Department Store in Santa Barbara. I have to admit it was not a job that I enjoyed, in point of fact I hated it. I was selling hats and wigs. It was by far the most tedious and isolating job I ever had. I had to stand in the middle of four long glass display cases, style the wigs, and keep the counters and hats free of dust. I had no place to sit down and no one to talk to.

However, I did meet several people who I befriended, and one of them told me about a residential school for mildly mentally handicapped children. It was within the Santa Barbara boundaries. I had talked to her about how much I enjoyed working with children. And that I had come from a big family and had many nieces and nephews. Who I always enjoyed spending time with when I was living in my home state of New Jersey. I contacted St. Vincent’s School to find out if they were hiring counselors. And they said that they were and I requested an appointment for a job interview.

The day I showed up for the interview, I was surprised to find out that Catholic nuns were running St. Vincent’s. They were the Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent DePaul. It seemed to me at the time that no matter how old I was or where I lived, the “Sisters” and I would find our way to each other. I say this because I spent twelve years in Catholic Schools, first with St. Joseph’s Sisters and then with the Franciscans.

I grew up two houses away from Our Lady Of Perpetual Help Church and School in Maple Shade, NJ. So, not only did I attend eight years of elementary school there, but I was basically on-call along with my twin sister to come and work at the school. But also at the convent where the Sisters lived, which was about a ten-minute work down Main Street in Maple Shade. In the Summer, I had to cover all the students’ textbooks so that when School started in September, they would be ready for the students. The rest of the year I had to go up to the Convent at least once a week and clean the pantry that held all the canned goods and dry foods that the sister’s ate. My sister Karen had to iron the Altar Vestments for the church’s altar.

I was glad that I didn’t have to do the ironing.; I absolutely hated ironing. I saw my poor mother bent over an ironing board every day of her life. This was before permanent press clothes were invented. Everything had to be ironed back then. Unless you wanted to walk around looking like you slept in your clothes. My mother also had to hang our family’s clothing out on a clothesline. This was back in the day before there were dryers for clothes. My mother had an old washing machine that had a wringer on it. The clothes had to be pushed through the wringer and then hung out to dry. This was an all-day job. In fact, if it rained, you would have to go through the whole ordeal again.

So, here I was again, face to face with one of the dear sisters. Only this time I was an adult albeit a young one. I was volunteering to apply for a job as a counselor at a Catholic facility to work with children. Who came from many backgrounds. Some of the kids were mildly retarded or what is now called Intelectual Disability. The school had children of many age groups, and it housed both boys and girls. Luckily I was hired and as a “counselor’ in the Laboures Group. I worked a split shift, first shift where I woke up the “girls” and prepared them for the school day, they got dressed, and made their beds. And ate breakfast together in a small dining room. Then, I went home and came back when it was time for the kids to get out of school. I walked over to the school and gathered up my kids. It was all girls from twelve to sixteen. After school, I gave them a snack and helped them with their homework. I was relieved when a night proctor took over at 11 PM.

All the kids had chores after their homework was done. I, with the help of one of the girls, set the tables for dinner. After dinner the girls had free time and most often would watch TV. I always watched with them.

I can not express how much I came to love these girls. And how much they meant to me. Every weekend, Bob and I took one of the girls out for the day. Sometimes, we went hiking or swimming in the pool that was at the apartment where Bob and I lived. Once in a while, we went to the movies. They loved to go out clothes shopping just like any young girl would. At night, after dinner, I often helped them write letters to their families. In my heart of hearts I could not fathom why their parents didn’t want them living at home. Perhaps the schools in their area were not prepared to teach children with learning disabilities. I don’t know for sure. This was about 1978.

Bob was attending Brooks Institute ( a Photography School), and he also worked part-time at night. So, we did not spend a great deal of time together. When Bob finished school, we decided to move back to New Jersey with the hope that Bob would be able to find employment as a photographer.

It was tough to tell my kids at St. Vincent’s that Bob and I were leaving and moving far away. But, we couldn’t afford to live in California any longer since there weren’t many jobs available for photographers at the time. I left a big chunk of my heart with my kids at St. Vincents. It was so hard saying goodbye and knowing that it was highly unlikely that I was ever going to see them again. They wrote me for a couple of years after we moved. And then I didn’t hear from them from then on. As some of them had gotten jobs, or moved back with their families. And life moved on for them as it did for me.

Bob and I bought a small house in Pennsauken, and I proceeded to have a baby, who we named Jeanette, and three years later a second daughter, named Bridget. They filled in that big hole I had in my heart and then some.

Life throws us many curves, and we don’t always know which way to turn. We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope for the best outcome.

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RANCH HOPE SNOWED IN FOR FOUR DAYS

It was 1994 and II was working at Ranch Hope in Alloway, New Jersey. Ranch Hope was, at that time, a residential, Christian residence for boys ages seven through twenty who were in crisis. Ranch Hope has existed since 1964. I began working there as the first female counselor, and as time went on, I was made the assistant supervisor at Ranch Hope at Turrell Cottage. The boys I was responsible for were between the ages of fourteen to eighteen. These boys had been adjudicated by the court to reside at Ranch Hope because of either family difficulties or breaking the law. And it was either Ranch Hope or jail. Ranch Hope was a last-ditch effort to save these kids who came from rough backgrounds and give them a new chance to start over again. Some of the boys ended up living their entire adolescence at Ranch Hope.

At the time I was working a split shift from seven AM in the morning until ll AM. And then went home until my second shift began from 2:30 until 11:30 PM. That is when the night proctor arrived. And he was often late. Sometimes, I didn’t get home until midnight. And the next day I was tired all day.

On that particular day, it started to snow lightly in the morning at first, and then later, heavy snow began to fall about the time the boys were dismissed from school. All the boys attended Strang School, which was a school that was located on the Ranch Hope Campus within walking distance from the cottages. Most of the teachers were anxious to leave that day since the snow was beginning to accumulate rapidly, and they didn’t want to be stuck there overnight.

I wasn’t too concerned at first. Because I thought the snow would slow down as it had recently, and I would be able to go home as usual. But that isn’t what happened. The snow continued to come down heavier and heavier during the day, and by nightfall, there were several feet of snow. I knew there was no way I was going to get home that night. And that I was going to end up sleeping on the lumpy couch in the living room.
After several hours of heavy snow, I knew for sure that I wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. And that was exactly what happened. The night proctor was not able to make his way from his residence to Ranch Hope because the roads had become impassable, and almost impossible to see where you were going. Ranch Hope is located out in the middle of nowhere, and the roads were rarely plowed. There weren’t any street lights on the roads leading in and out of Alloway and the nearly forty-minute drive home. And on this particular night, the roads were unpassable altogether.

The boys were all excited because of the snow and the fact that they wouldn’t have to attend school for several days. Of course there was other staff from the rest of the cottages that were not going to be going home anytime soon either. Fortunately, Ranch Hope had its own cafeteria and kitchen staff that prepared food for the boys and the staff, and it was only a short walk from any of the cottages to the cafeteria.

As the day went by, I knew for sure I was not going to go home anytime soon. But, at least I was in a warm and safe place. What I didn’t realize right away was that the snow wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. In fact, I ended up staying at Ranch Hope for several days. One of the main problems for me was that the rest of the staff who worked in the residential cottages were men. And I, well, I was the only female. So, there weren’t any female facilities like bathrooms, showers, etc.

By the end of the third day, I was feeling uncomfortable since I had been wearing the same clothes for several days, my hair felt dirty, and I didn’t have any other clothes to wear. At this point, I decided to call the staff at Camp Edge. Camp Edge was a place for the boys to camp and learn some life skills outside of their own background, which was mostly inner city, Camden, or worse. Most of these boys grew up in poverty; many were from broken families or families with addiction problems, or their parent or parents were incarcerated. And Ranch Hope was their last chance to redeem themselves before they ended up incarcerated themselves.

I was able to get ahold of the married couple that ran Camp Edge and asked if would be possible for me to come there and get a shower and borrow a change of clothes. Since I didn’t know when I would be able to get home. Meanwhile, I had to find someone to come to Turrell Cottage and watch the boys while I was gone. After finding a staff member to fill in for me at Turrel for an hour or so, I headed slowly on the snow-covered back roads to Camp Edge. I have to say, even though I grew up in New Jersey and learned how to drive in all kinds of weather. It was a bit scary to drive on back roads with several feet of snow, even though some had been plowed at some point in the last several days. They still have a couple of feet of snow I would have driven through, and I wasn’t up for that. So, I stayed put at Turrel Cottage until the roads were cleared for the most part.

Some of the roads that were plowed had melted and frozen over again and again, and they were sheets of ice. I won’t lie, it was scary. I knew if I had an accident there were very few people on these back country roads that would find me. And then I thought, oh, the couple at Camp Edge knew I was coming, and if I didn’t show up, they would come looking for me. Or at least they would know and inform Ranch Hope staff that I never arrived.

But my luck held out, and I slowly made my way to Camp Edge and drove down their rough driveway and up to their house, which was really more of a cabin than a house. But, still, it had heat, and I could take a shower and change clothes, which would be a blessing. They were waiting for me on their front porch and welcomed me into their home. It was so warm and inviting I hated the idea of leaving and going back on the snow covered, icy roads back to Ranch Hope. And I didn’t know how long it would be before the roads were clear enough to go home and get a good night’s sleep in my own warm bed.

After I showered and changed clothes I thanked them and said, “hopefully, the next time I see you I won’t smell to high heavens.” And they laughed. And I got into my car and slowly made my way back to Ranch Hope. When I arrived, all the boys were in the cafeteria eating lunch. And I went in and grabbed something to eat, and sat down at the table with my boys at Turrell Cottage’s table. They were still really worked up and excited by the snow and no school. And they were being rather boisterous, but not for long. Because when they saw me come into the cafeteria, they knew better than to be acting out. I was a kind caretaker, but I stuck to the rules. I took a good look at the boys. And they were all there but spread out over two tables. And I saw a couple of the older kids were working in the kitchen.

In fact, all the boys, after they had been there for some time, were given jobs if they were being compliant in the cottage and in the school. They were given the opportunity to work and earn money. And if they earned enough points, they would allowed to go on outings. At some point, when the roads cleared up and it was safe to travel, they would be able to go out to the Malls in the area and speed some of their hard-earned money. I won’t lie. Sometimes, some of the boys would try hard to do the right thing, but other times, they tried to sneak around and do things that they weren’t allowed to do. And they would lose points and privileges. And they wouldn’t be able to go off campus or even out of the cottage if they were out of compliance with the rules.

About a day and a half later, I was able to go home, take a day off, and catch up on my sleep. I decided that from then on out, I would bring a change of clothes with me just in case. I worked several more years at Ranch Hope, and although it could be stressful working there, I loved it. And I came to love all those boys. Even the difficult ones. I think it was one of the most rewarding yet stressful jobs I ever had. I can only hope that I helped those boys through a challenging time in their lives. They learned some self-control and came to understand that they were in charge of making their lives and their futures flourish or fail. It was up to them. Over the course of my working life, which started when I was seventeen and extended into my early sixties, Ranch Hope was the job I loved the most and the one that has held many good and bad memories. But, the job that I will always be proud of was the one in which I hope I guided young boys to turn into men with a conscience that knew right from wrong. And to make it their business to treat all people with care and concern and good will.

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