I think that the mayor is doing a great job! (“Kevin Faulconer’s homeless California roadshow,” News Ticker, January 30). What Alex, the editorial writer forgot, in his scathing letter naming the four catagories of homeless people is the fifth group of homeless, women.
Despite growing up in sixteen foster homes in San Diego county from 1965 to 1978, my claim to local fame is living in a group home for teenage girls owned by (future mayor) Maureen O’Connor in Hillcrest. We had tea with the Marston twins who lived in their famous house across the street, went to lunch at the O’Connors’ home in the North County coastal area, and for my high school graduation we dined at a nice eatery in Coronado. Nuns were our house mothers, we had hip social workers, who really cared about us, and I credit my continued therapy with psychologist ‘Patti M’, till 1987, for helping me. They were about to open up more group homes, but in late spring 1978 the Jarvis tax bill took effect, and many homes closed. San Diego High was going to cancel summer school and some of my foster sisters wouldn’t have graduated if some emergency funding for the summer session hadn’t been restored. Just a snapshot in the life of as we were called back then, “Wards of the Court’.” I would say we were lucky girls, but we’d been through hell to somehow land in a nice home with a swimming pool!
After overcoming alcoholism/drug addiction, I worked all my life. The gaps in employment are due to jail time, and other lifestyle ‘bad’ choices from drinking and drugging. Didn’t get an education, but I was a good, dependable, cheerful working lady. I currently have eighteen years clean (drug free) and sober. I live in a temporary winter shelter. What brought me to being homeless you ask? Super lice in my SRO hotel. I had them for over six years, spent thousands on doctor visits, prescription medicines, endless cleaning, laundry, and finally it broke my heart. I can’t work in food service with this condition. I saved money for a year, and living on the streets sober wasn’t so bad till winter. You want your bum, Alex, I’ll give you your bum, sir. Now I can rest, get some job retraining, or not. The fact is, I forgive you. God bless you. Be safe.
I think that the mayor is doing a great job! (“Kevin Faulconer’s homeless California roadshow,” News Ticker, January 30). What Alex, the editorial writer forgot, in his scathing letter naming the four catagories of homeless people is the fifth group of homeless, women.
Despite growing up in sixteen foster homes in San Diego county from 1965 to 1978, my claim to local fame is living in a group home for teenage girls owned by (future mayor) Maureen O’Connor in Hillcrest. We had tea with the Marston twins who lived in their famous house across the street, went to lunch at the O’Connors’ home in the North County coastal area, and for my high school graduation we dined at a nice eatery in Coronado. Nuns were our house mothers, we had hip social workers, who really cared about us, and I credit my continued therapy with psychologist ‘Patti M’, till 1987, for helping me. They were about to open up more group homes, but in late spring 1978 the Jarvis tax bill took effect, and many homes closed. San Diego High was going to cancel summer school and some of my foster sisters wouldn’t have graduated if some emergency funding for the summer session hadn’t been restored. Just a snapshot in the life of as we were called back then, “Wards of the Court’.” I would say we were lucky girls, but we’d been through hell to somehow land in a nice home with a swimming pool!
After overcoming alcoholism/drug addiction, I worked all my life. The gaps in employment are due to jail time, and other lifestyle ‘bad’ choices from drinking and drugging. Didn’t get an education, but I was a good, dependable, cheerful working lady. I currently have eighteen years clean (drug free) and sober. I live in a temporary winter shelter. What brought me to being homeless you ask? Super lice in my SRO hotel. I had them for over six years, spent thousands on doctor visits, prescription medicines, endless cleaning, laundry, and finally it broke my heart. I can’t work in food service with this condition. I saved money for a year, and living on the streets sober wasn’t so bad till winter. You want your bum, Alex, I’ll give you your bum, sir. Now I can rest, get some job retraining, or not. The fact is, I forgive you. God bless you. Be safe.