Minne-sober: Out-of-state patients find a home

Posted by admin on October 14, 2007 under St. Paul, Star Tribune | Comments are off for this article

Sourced from Star Tribune.

For many nonresidents who come to the area’s rehab centers, the Twin Cities become a place to call home. They live one day at a time, and those days often have turned into decades.

Last update: October 14, 2007 – 12:14 PM

They come for treatment, and quite often stay because of the way they are treated. Many find stability within their tightly knit community and acceptance from the populace at large. Some feel they can never go home and thus stake their futures in Minnesota, but say they never feel quite at home here, either.

There are a million stories in the land of 10,000 rehab centers, but many of them play out close to the treatment facilities that bring addicts here in the first place.

“Recovery is thick here,” said William Cope Moyers, vice president of external affairs for Hazelden and one of these transplants. “There’s something about the Twin Cities that gives recovering people an added layer of support and protection to make the journey a bit easier and more rewarding.”

Other denizens of the local recovery nation cite the “centeredness” and acceptance they found from Minnesota residents and businesses in general.

But they are quick to add that without the tremendously supportive rehab community, particularly in St. Paul, they never would have stayed. Almost to a person, they believed they would leave within a few months to a year.

Part of that bond, they say, is an almost preternatural ability to recognize fellow travelers on the road to recovery. “We’re just like Mormons. You can’t see that secret underwear, but we know who else is wearing it,” said David Carr, who now works for the New York Times but as editor of the Twin Cities Reader in the 1990s hired several writers just out of rehab. “Most people in some kind of program are generally pretty reliable, and they tend to have seen a lot of life and that leads to fairly textured writing.

“I’m sorry that some of them came to Minnesota by way of the booby hatch, but I’m certainly glad they stayed. Besides, people are all gimped in some way, significantly.”

The migration of writers and other creative sorts such as artists and chefs has enriched the Twin Cities’ cultural life, Moyers noted. But it is the acceptance of recovering addicts from all walks of life that makes the area so amenable to them.

“People don’t look puzzled when we explain that we came from New York or Texas or Oregon to get treatment,” he said, “and you also don’t have to explain that gaping hole in the resumé, either, or why you’ve gone from being an executive or an airline pilot to making cappuccinos and lattés in a coffee house.”

Bill Ward • bill.ward@startribune.com

 

In their own words

A few words from four residents who originally came for rehab and decided to stay in the Twin Cities. 

Bonni Rodin, 46, came from Long Island 19 years ago and lives in St. Paul. She’s a single mom working on a master’s in counseling and psychological services at St. Mary’s.

“When I first came out, I thought I’d do the 30-day treatment and then go home. But then I realized that I was concerned about going back into the same environment. And also, I had hope here. It was far from perfect, but to stay here meant a lot of support, in good times and bad.

“I was just so afraid of life without drinking. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t know how to live without drinking. It’s not just drinking, and it’s not just drugs; there’s a whole lifestyle around it. I needed to learn about the lifestyle of being sober.

“Anywhere I go here, I know people, I run into people in the program, and it’s just nice to see them. I can move anywhere in the country, but I stay because I made a foundation here.”

 

Chris Edrington, 42, came from Boulder, Colo., nine years ago and lives in St. Paul. He operates nine local Sober Living houses (“post halfway house, post everything”).

“Originally I had met people who had already done this, and it was clear that they had something that I wanted. Practically you could call it stability, and a job. But also they had a centeredness.

“I wouldn’t have gone back to Colorado. I would have been in trouble. But I figured I’d be here six months, tops. I get super restless after the first month pretty much anywhere.

“Eventually it became about other things, about having a life. I ran a lot for a long time. I never settled. But this turned out to be a great place. I like the people, a lot. I’m enmeshed in the sober community, which provides me with a job. Minneapolis is a great city, and St. Paul is really awesome.

“I just bought a house for myself after living in a one-bedroom apartment on Grand Avenue for 7½ years. I am a Minnesotan now.”

 

Tony Clark, who’s in his 60s, came from New York City four years ago and lives in St. Paul. He is a freelance writer and former senior editor for two large book publishers and writer-producer for public television.

“During my years as a New Yorker, I saw the city much like the young man in E.B. White’s essay: a place like no other for someone prepared to be lucky. However, coming out of Hazelden, I realized that for me to continue to be ‘lucky,’ some serious changes were needed.

“I thought I would be here for one year, tops. My first reaction to St. Paul was architectural: It looked like Brooklyn Heights back when people could actually afford to live there. Over time, though, I have come to feel comfortable about St. Paul’s being a big small town — which I think is a better fit for me than a small big city.

“The old quote is that you cannot go home again. But, have I come to my true home here? If my history since 2003 is to be trusted, more will be revealed every day.”

 

Emily Carter Roiphe, who’s in her early 40s, came from New York 17 years ago and lives in south Minneapolis. She is a novelist and freelance writer; she reviews books for the Star Tribune.

“[After treatment] it became obvious that if I returned to New York again, I would be homeless, whereas in Minnesota I would receive help with housing, sobriety and my health. I had run through my entire support network in New York, was terrified of living on the streets, and a new life in Minnesota was not only the one option available to me, it was a hopeful step. To me Minnesota was hope.

“I no longer think Minnesota is the only place I won’t die alone; but the life I have made here is a good one, complete with friends, spouse, pets and yard. I’ve met people here who have become my true and real friends, and whom I value immensely.

“On the other hand, I’m alienated by the passive-aggressive aspects of ‘Minnesota Nice’ (the bumper sticker for which should read ‘Well, we like it here’). I’ve often thought it would be easier if I actually came from an entirely different country, then no one would expect me to know the proper cultural responses and behavior.”

Sobriety Check

Posted by admin on October 8, 2007 under City Pages, St. Paul | Comments are off for this article

Sourced from City Pages.

Neighbors turn to St. Paul City Council to provide more oversight on sober homes

By Matt Snyders

Published on October 08, 2007 at 3:17pm

As a teenager, Kevin was never too keen on booze. Watching his peers stagger through their adolescence in a drunken stupor left him baffled. Why waste your time with the hooch, what with all the wonderful street drugs out there? Coke and crack—now those provided some serious kicks.

Kevin’s chemical thrill-seeking eventually landed him in a 28-day recovery program in 1989. He emerged from treatment on his 20th birthday totally clean, but just six months later he was back at it again—this time opting for the bottle. He’d gulp down a 1.75-liter handle of vodka before nightfall, and he’d often black out for days on end.

With nothing to lose, he decided to try something different: a sober house.

“The last place I wanted to be on the face of the earth was a Christian sober house,” says Kevin, who asked that his last name not be given. “But I figured if I went against my instinct something good would come of it. And it did. Moving in gave me a reason not to drink. We support one another and keep each other in check. Coming here saved my life.”

Like more than 50 other sober houses throughout St. Paul, this split-level home in the Battle Creek neighborhood provides a safe segue for recovering addicts making the transition from treatment centers to the community. Democratically run and self-financed, these houses expel any member caught with booze or drugs.

Because they do not receive government assistance, no public agency oversees their operation, which has neighbors worried. Retirees Bruce and Carol Kuettner have lived in their blue two-story on Ashland Avenue in the Summit-University neighborhood for 19 years. About four years ago, a sober house opened up next door. A wiry man with a surly demeanor, Bruce has been an outspoken critic ever since.

“They make their own rules,” he says, motioning to the window from his kitchen table. “No one investigates them. There’s no accountability for the landlords. Everybody’s saying we’re picking on these individuals. No, we aren’t. We’re just saying there needs to be accountability.”

A few houses down, on the corner of Ashland and Lexington Parkway, Georgia Haggerty echoes these concerns.

“The main problem is the parking issue,” she says, glancing down the street. “There’s no limit on how many people can live there. Also, there’s a lot of turnover. We’ve lived here a long time and we’d like it to stay a neighborhood. It seems our neighborhood has become a mecca for group homes.”

The parking problems and congestion stem from the fact that sober houses are exempt from single-family zoning requirements, which means they can house more than four unrelated people. This immunity comes from a 1995 U.S. Supreme Court decision that found that the Fair Housing Act protects addicts from rental discrimination.

Even so, the St. Paul City Council has launched a study to find ways around this regulatory roadblock, and on September 12 passed a moratorium prohibiting sober houses from sprouting within the city for one year.

“We’re looking for a solution that is as fair to both sides as possible, and this will buy us some time,” says St. Paul Council member Jay Benanav, who introduced the resolution. “Once we get a legal definition of ’sober house’ on the books, we’ll have a bit more leeway in regulating them.”

Proponents of sober houses question the legality of the moratorium. At a public hearing held last Wednesday in City Hall, Fabian Huffner, an attorney representing St. Paul Sober Living, pointed out that many cities throughout the country have tried to implement regulations on sober homes, only to see them struck down in court.

In 2002, for example, Boca Raton, Florida, passed an ordinance that effectively banned sober houses from residential areas and prohibited creating two sober houses within 1,000 feet of each other. The ACLU subsequently sued the city for discrimination and the city had to pay out more than $600,000 to sober-house operators.

“These people have the same right to live in single-family zones as anyone else,” Huffner says. “This moratorium is just a way of placating the residents. Looking at federal law, I don’t believe the city has the authority to do this.”

Back in Battle Creek, Kevin remains optimistic. “The moratorium or any ordinance won’t affect standing sober houses, so it doesn’t change things for me personally,” he says. “But without this house, I never would have had the opportunity to meet these guys and turn my life around.”