Posted by admin on March 4, 2008 under Pioneer Press, St. Paul | 
Sourced from TwinCities.com
By Alex Friedrich
afriedrich@pioneerpress.com
Article Last Updated: 03/04/2008 12:23:18 AM CST
Problems with poorly run sober houses have riled people in a number of St. Paul neighborhoods, and Monday the city discussed its first shot at regulating the facilities.
At a Summit-University community center, planning officials heard residents sound off on proposed zoning ordinance amendments designed to handle the houses. In the meantime, the city maintains a de facto moratorium on them.
The changes are supposed to balance the needs of sober-house inhabitants — recovering alcoholics and addicts who are getting their lives back together — and the communities in which they live.
“We want to make sure the structures are safe, integrate them into neighborhoods and make sure we address the larger impacts on the neighborhoods,” city planner Luis Pereira said.
St. Paul has almost three dozen registered sober houses, he said, but residents said many others operate “under the radar.”
Many houses comprise a handful of recovering substance abusers who decide to live together and support each other. Others are larger operations run by landlords for a profit.
To live in a house, alcoholics must not drink and must be financially self-supporting, among other things.
The houses have been around for decades, and many neighborhood residents never know they’re there.
But some people have complained they’re seeing more and more in their communities — sometimes more than one on a block. And because federal laws consider the residents disabled, more of them can live in a house than is normally allowed.
Critics said that creates a number of problems, especially when the sober houses are poorly run.
At the forum, neighbors painted a picture of absent landlords, poor upkeep, lots of noise and huge parking crunches.
“This is public safety stuff that the city has to get a handle on,” said 55-year-old Marshall Avenue resident Gary Carlson.
Among other things, neighbors said they want the city to keep better tabs on sober houses, better screen those who run them, reduce the density of the houses and resolve parking problems.
But sober-house supporters said they shouldn’t be singled out and that they draw fewer police visits than college “party houses.”
Most residents in sober houses are productive and law-abiding, supporters said, and need the facilities to make a transition to mainstream life.
“I owe my life to sober housing,” said David Mott, a 23-year-old sober-house resident who said he’ll earn a degree in accounting next year.
John Curtiss, of the Minnesota Association of Sober Homes, cautioned against suggestions to identify all the facilities in the city or to decide where a law-abiding recovering alcoholic or addict is allowed to live.
“It’s a scary thing to hear that kind of thing in a community,” he said.
The proposed zoning amendments, which stemmed from a city study of sober housing, would still permit the facilities in any area that allows residential use. And they would grandfather in existing sober houses that are legal.
Among other things, the amendments call for:
– 1 1/2 off-street parking spaces per dwelling unit.
– A parking plan for each sober house.
– Information from each sober-house operator, which would include the number of residents, bedrooms and bathrooms.
– A “modest” distance requirement between new sober houses with seven or more residents.
– A minimum lot size for those with six or more residents.
The city will hold at least two more public hearings on the matter, and Pereira said officials hope to bring a draft ordinance to the Planning Commission this spring.
Posted by admin on February 7, 2008 under MASH Members |
Sourced from JohnsonInstitute.org.
Ingrid Faust
2/7/2008
WASHINGTON, D.C. – John Curtiss, President of the Community of Recovering People board of directors and The Retreat will be honored with the Johnson Institute’s annual “Advancing Help and Hope” for Lifetime Achievement award at the Founder’s Dinner on April 24, 2008 at the Golden Valley Country Club, in Golden Valley, Minnesota.
“John Curtiss’ practical and consistent endeavor to reduce barriers to recovery is legendary in Minnesota and across America. He is never lost in things as they might be, but ever leading to things as they can be,” Mike Sime, Chairman of the Johnson Institute board said. “Things are different for many because John came our way.”
Curtiss is one of the principle designers of The Retreat model. Prior to his employment with The Retreat, John was employed by the Hazelden Foundation for over 19 years. In his years at Hazelden, John served as Vice President of Hazelden’s National Continuum, Executive Director of Hazelden’s Outreach Services, Executive Director of Fellowship Club, Hazelden’s intermediate care facility in St. Paul, MN, Unit Supervisor of two of Hazelden’s primary treatment units and as a chemical dependency counselor. John has a Masters Degree in Health Care Administration from the College of Saint Mary’s, is a graduate of Hazelden’s Counselor Training Program, a licensed counselor in the State of Minnesota and a Nationally Certified Recovery Specialist.
Past recipients of the Advancing Help and Hope Lifetime Achievement Award include, George Bloom (2005), an instrumental figure in the success of the Johnson Institute; Representative Jim Ramstad (2006), for his giving unselfishly to the recovery community as an outspoken advocate on Capitol Hill for the millions of people in recovery from addiction illness; Victor Capoccia Ph.D. (2007), senior program officer at the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation where he led the Addiction Prevention and Treatment Team and also focused on developing skills and career paths for front line health and health care workers.
The Johnson Institute also proud to be giving the Fifth Annual “Irene and Wheelock Whitney Award” to Father Bill Wigmore. He is Chief Executive Officer of Austin Recovery, the largest chemical dependency treatment center in Central Texas.
“Bill Wigmore’s story and service of recovery illustrates the nexus of faith and science through the thousands of individuals and families he has touched in his journey,” said Sime. “The doorway of Austin Recovery is a practical application of the Biblical suggestion to ‘feed my sheep.’ His reach to the last, the lost, and the least is an example to all who believe service is the key to lasting recovery and peace.”
In his recovery from alcoholism, Father Wigmore found his true calling, helping others heal through the power of both faith and science. Bringing the skills and gifts of an Episcopal priest, counselor, caring administrator and fellow pilgrim he helps his flock experience healing and recovery, offering to the recovering community a weekly communion service, “The Fellowship of the Prodigal.”
The Johnson Institute’s Irene and Wheelock Whitney Award is given annually to an individual who has advanced the understanding of faith and science in addiction prevention and recovery. Through research, teaching, writing or service, the individual must demonstrate that both the power of spirituality and religion and the power of medicine are important to the prevention, intervention and treatment of alcohol and other drug addiction.
Past recipients of the Irene and Wheelock Whitney Award include Dr. James B. Nelson, a well-known and highly respected theologian, teacher and author of “Thirst: God and the Alcoholic Experience;” University of New Mexico professor and author Dr. William R. Miller for his groundbreaking work in addiction illness recovery through his many works linking spirituality and recovery; Dr. Robert Albers, a noted Lutheran pastor, author, and pastoral care theologian who has devoted his professional life to helping clergy understand the disease of addiction; and Rev. Dr. Kenneth Robinson for implemented major ministries of community education, alcohol and drug abuse prevention, emergency sustenance, family life enrichment, children services, academic skills enhancement, and economic development.
The award’s namesake, Wheelock Whitney, and his late wife Irene, were co-founders of the Johnson Institute. The Whitney’s have made significant and numerous contributions to the Twin Cities recovery community. They were instrumental in creating the St. Mary’s Alcoholism Treatment Unit. They created Family Care and Counseling at JI – insisting that the family is critical to a person’s recovery. Irene and Wheelock Whitney were also helpful in setting up the first adolescent treatment program, a halfway house for youth.
The Johnson Institute, throughout its 40-year history, has pioneered practices that enhance awareness, intervention, treatment and recovery from alcohol and other drug addiction. Founded by Vernon Johnson in 1965, the Johnson Institute today mobilizes and trains people in recovery for advocacy campaigns, conducts policy research and promotes congregational team ministries through its offices in Minneapolis; Austin,Texas; and Washington, D.C.
Tickets to the Founders Dinner are available by calling 612.331.5600. Tickets and table sponsors will also be available on our website soon. www.johnsoninstitute.org.
Posted by admin on October 14, 2007 under St. Paul, Star Tribune |
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.
By Bill Ward, Star Tribune
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.”
Posted by admin on October 8, 2007 under City Pages, St. Paul |
Sourced from City Pages.
Neighbors turn to St. Paul City Council to provide more oversight on sober homes
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.”
Posted by admin on May 17, 2007 under MASH Members, Pioneer Press, St. Paul |
Sourced from Faces and Voices of Recovery.
The boulevard of new dreams: Recovering alcoholics take a symbolic stroll down Grand Avenue, the street that historically offers them community and support as they pursue lives of sobriety.
Laura Yuen
Pioneer Press
May 17, 2007
When recovering alcoholics move into one of Chris Edrington’s St. Paul sober houses, he tells them not to find God, but to find coffee.
Go to Grand Avenue, Edrington instructs.
On St. Paul’s trendiest boulevard, many of the folks sipping or serving lattes have wrestled with addictions. And for the past couple of decades, they have fueled the area’s reputation as Recovery Row. “When you get out, no matter where you live, you’ve got to go where other alcoholics hang out,” said Edrington, who owns eight sober houses in St. Paul, all of them within walking distance of Grand Avenue. “There’s nothing more powerful.”
On Wednesday, Edrington and several dozen other recovering addicts ambled along the avenue’s sidewalks for their first-ever “Grand Sobriety Stroll.” They hugged, laughed and filled up on free coffee along the way. Recovery Works!, a group that aims to raise awareness of recovery, coordinated the event. The walk was a metaphor for Jo Campe, a recovering alcoholic and pastor of downtown St. Paul’s so-called “Recovery Church” at Central Park United Methodist.
“There were lots of years where we didn’t walk in public through many parts of our lives,” Campe said. “To be out in public like this is claiming back our humanity and sense of purpose.”
Many in the recovery community fondly refer to their adopted state as “The Land of 10,000 Treatment Centers.” During the past 20 years, Grand Avenue has become an unofficial hub for addicts from all over the world who are trying to stay clean.
Some of them gravitated to the neighborhood after spending time at Hazelden’s Fellowship Club on nearby West Seventh Street, one of the nation’s first halfway houses.
“The easiest place to find employment in bookstores and coffee shops was the Grand Avenue neighborhood,” said Andrew Wainwright, executive director of Addiction Intervention Resources in St. Paul. “Like all human beings, you’re going to say, ‘Where’s the nice neighborhood? Where are the outdoor cafes?’ We’re attracted to beautiful places with nice people.”
More recently, St. Paul has also seen the rise of sober houses. These arrangements represent the last tier of care – groups of recovering addicts who share privately operated rental homes. Unlike halfway houses, sober houses are not regulated by the city, and there are no clinicians on site.
“My model is single-family homes in nice neighborhoods so you feel like you’re back in a normal society and no longer in a facility,” said Edrington, a recovering heroin addict who owns St. Paul Sober Living facilities.
But some neighbors have complained about the proliferation of sober houses, which offer an estimated 400 beds in the city. And even within the recovery community, not everyone is happy with the model. Sober houses don’t account for relapses, which are often part of the recovery process, said Ashley Stanley, a spokeswoman for St. Paul-based Addiction Recovery Professionals who used to help run sober houses. While she supports the concept, Stanley also advocates more structured support and protocol if someone has a lapse in judgment.
“What’s happening is someone relapses, and the locks are changed on them, and they have to pack their bags and leave at that moment,” she said.
Edrington, though, says the model has evolved over the past few years. He and other sober-house landlords are forming a new statewide group, the Minnesota Association of Sober Homes. The group will demand that its members promote sobriety and make sure the living spaces they provide are clean and safe, he said. On Wednesday, Courtney Lubrant and friend Matthew Frost walked side by side from Snelling Avenue to Grotto Street. Lubrant, 21, has been sober for just over a year. The Crystal native said she never met as many sober people in the community until she settled into St. Paul after treatment. At the Caribou Coffee on Grand and Grotto, she draws inspiration from an older generation of recovering alcoholics who remind her to take it one day at a time.
Wainwright, of Addiction Intervention Resources, calls another coffeehouse, the Starbucks at Grand Avenue and Victoria Street, the “ground zero” of recovery.
“All you would need to do was walk in and have your life put together in a half-hour,” he said. “I’ve gotten phone messages there. It’s the place.”
Laura Yuen can be reached at lyuen@pioneerpress.com or 651-228-5498.
Copyright 2007 St. Paul Pioneer Press
