Been There? Done That?

Been There? Done That?
By
Robert Stanford

Often we see them walking down the sidewalk with unquantified determination. Toting a backpack, pushing a shopping cart or riding a rustic bicycle with a caged trailer in tow filled with plastic bottles and aluminum cans or asking us for change all for the want of booze and/or drugs.
What is it that we think of these individuals as they become part of the history of our day? Do we wonder where they are coming from or where they are going? And if we do, how far back? How far forward?

And if we do not think about them at all, is it because we don’t care about them?

Do we make assumptions about them based on what friends and neighbors have said previously?

Do we immediately assume that they are alcoholics and/or drug addicts? Is this perhaps, one of the reasons we prefer not to think too long about where they have come from or where they may be going, besides the immediate possibilities of dumpsters and homeless shelters, only as far as a liquor store or a street corner drug connection?

Most law enforcement agencies, which have no choice but to interact with these people daily, will refer to them in a catch all manner as homeless and proceed to state that the three primary causes of homelessness as a lifestyle choice are:

Alcoholism

Drug addiction

Mental illness

These three primary factors will be hat has contributed to the unraveling of these people’s lives at some point in the past and why when you see the person I have described, their goals have become reduced to the ultimate in simplicity – pain avoidance – moment to moment, day after day. Hunger, DT’s and/or drug withdrawal and body temperature regulation. These three factors of suffering, trump all other basic/social needs, such as grooming, financial obligation fulfillment and perhaps most importantly of all – self respect, confidence and self worth.
There is an over-used cliché that says all of us are one paycheck away from homelessness, however, if this was to be the case for an individual or family not plagued by alcoholism, drug addiction or mental illness, many would not be homeless for very long because they would not be trapped within a viscous cycle of moment to moment pain avoidance.

In other words – the ability to freely set as well as procure long-tem goals without the yoke of foreboding.

Assuming that the person we have described suffers through this cycle and let us further discuss what can be done to determine if a rescue is at all possible – an attempt at intervention.

The basis for any type of motivation for performing a rescue by an individual – a stranger to the person targeted, would need to be one resulting from the capacity for empathy, whether practiced or natural. To place one’s self in the position of another, attempting to fathom the horrific experiences of the person.

More often then not, the individuals that I see intervening and attempting to rescue people such as this, are individuals who have, in one form or another been there – They have an understanding that many of us can only imagine – such as the pain of going more than on to two days without any food at all – or the nightmarish visions of DT’s brought about by alcohol withdrawal and the putrid sickness of heroin withdrawals. Individuals that themselves have hit rock bottom – been there. Done that.

They are the ones that understand from first hand experience, the futility one feels when trapped within the walls of the pit of despair created by drug/alcohol addiction. An addiction that first robs you of the freedom to choose a path independent of the substance.

These individuals will generally only partially agree that this particular lifestyle is on that has or is being actually chosen.

They will be, however, quick to tell you that their personal rise from the ashes in their own lives was one in which they finally admitted that the choice was not theirs to make. They had to admit that they could not rise from the ashes alone and by themselves. They needed help from other people as well as God himself. Not just a program, but the people in the program and spiritual strengths offered by the program. The strength to suffer. The support to do what they could not do on their own. They must admit that they now have no control over themselves, much less the substance that rules them and their lives.

Often, I liken alcoholics and drug addict to zombies. Those that are possessed by something outside of themselves. No longer do these individuals make decisions on their own accord – They are ruled by the substance of their addiction. What has now become their drug of seemingly necessity?

One who has not gone for more that one to two days without food, often does no understand what they would become. The choices they would make. The compromises that would take. They have no idea the extent to which they would go to survive to procure nourishment. Something inside of them would take over.

I suppose that many would say that it really all boils down to a matter of strength of one’s character. Though, this may very well be a foregone conclusion, are these no so many circumstances present day and historically that would skew the amount of strength possessed by individuals on a case by case basis? Would the lack of this strength in one human being, make this a bad human?

The judgement, whether made on a case by case basis or bj6y blanket generalities is always difficult, if not impossible if made from the point of view lacking the actual experience of having been there.

If we were to abandon our resentment for these people, borne of our assumptions that as individuals, this life-style was one that was not freely chosen, but rather, if we were to adopt a more humanistic, or what may be considered to be a more spiritual approach in sizing up these individuals, suddenly we might begin to be able to see that there can be hope for them.
To consider if for no other reason then out of respect for another human being, that just maybe the primary cause, besides alcohol or drug addiction, that the person is caught up in their current predicament, is because, simply they have no one to count on anymore.

As is often the case, along the life-path of an alcoholic or drug addict, most, if not all of the ties they had previously possessed, be it family or life-long friends, have been destroyed by deceit and treachery caused by their addiction. And nearly all of the people surrounding them in their community are of the mind that these individuals are making a conscientious choice to be in their present circumstance, unaware of the control being held over them like the proverbial carrot just beyond the reach of the horse.

Without the support of others. Without love. Without a single person to care about them, what hope can they possibly have? What motivation could be fostered to make change in their lives for the better? What is there to change for, when loneliness and withdrawal combine to infuse the perfect cocktail of depression, sadness and pain? Every person that should represent morality, hope and faith for them,. banishes them instead with a prevailing attitude of contempt and disgust. What hope can they possibly have?

However, there can be an alternative. There can be hope for them.

Beginning with the acceptance of these people more as lost than nefarious, the beginning understanding compassion can begin.

As a project, one could pursue these individuals to a certain extent, offering assistance. Providing support for them to possibly enter a treatment program and become actively involved in other services to improve the quality of their lives.

The first objection may be on that they have tried the program before and for one reason or another, they were either not successful or their success was short lived.

The very best method of convincing one to face their addiction(s) head on and enter into an appropriate program is to offer the suggestions of long term goals – what life could be for them – examples of having a plaice, a family again, etc.

Often there will arise from them a multitude of problems, some of which may be multi-faceted, but all of them seemingly overwhelming and impossible to solve by the individual solely. Generally this is cause by a combination of the amount of time the individual has suffered with the problems as well as the overall sense of hopelessness the individual has relating to her own alcoholism and/or drug addiction. The long term ravages that this has caused in their lives.
The objective of convincing an alcoholic or drug addict to change must always be based on starting over. A back to basics approach – crawl before you walk. Square one. One day at a time.

But emphasizing what life can be like by the accomplishment of basic short-term goals and achieving consistency through recovery and restitution – To remember what their dream were.
Focus and direction is the very first accomplishment that must be done by the individual. From this will come the determination fueled by the motivation of what life could be like for them. Often they are unable to paint this picture for themselves, because their dreams have long since been broken in shards, or simply faded from memory.

What I propose is an extremely radical approach. More than merely asking one to exit their comfort zone for the consideration of diverse liberal ideology, I am proposing physical action – A call to action by you as a citizen that just might result in injury or worse.
If one were to do such a thing – to extend a hand for reach outreach – The result could be magnificent and a testament to so many others.

Every person and situation is different, even though the commonalties are ever so present.
I have been struck by fist, beer bottles and other items. Police has also accosted me on many occasions over the years under the suspicion of transacting drug deals with these individuals. Abetting them or being one of them. I have been conned, lied to and have even been robbed by them. Was it worth it? Perhaps, but it happens less and less as I become more realistic and less confident in my powers of persuasion of a complete stranger strung out on alcohol or drugs. With nothing to lose or gain in there own mind.

There are those no one will ever be able to save. But, on the other hand, there are those that can be saved, if only another human being would help them see their own self worth and befriend them with unconditional love.

Every human being needs those things that drugs and alcohol quickly destroy – love and support from the community that feeds self-worth. The reason that none of us can not be absolutely immune is because so many of us have never been there. But for many of us, still, when we see an individual on the street who’s only goal is their next bottle or fix, we automatically empathize and do not take that road. We do not want to go there. We do not want that pain – the pain we empathize with. But we do not have to allow our empathy and compassion to only stop there.
There are rescues that need to be performed – right now! And sadly, if you do not take the initiative and attempt just one rescue on your own, there but for the grace of God will go all of us, forever into a dark pit of despair – all alone – Because on the streets – no one hears you scream.

Copyright 2008 by Robert W. Stanford - All rights reserved.

Those Cute Little Baby Obits...

Stanislaus County is the third worse for Latino infant mortality of the fifty-eight counties that comprise the state of California।

If this is news to you, you are not alone. Most people are unaware of this horrible fact, and when they are made aware, they don’t seem to care very much at all. But, I believe they really do care and I believe you, especially do.
First on the list from the heads of our local Health Department, will be the standard strategy of diverting the subject to the percentage of Latino mothers using alcohol, tobacco and drugs। As though these things alone, are all that contribute to Latino infant death syndrome (LSIDS).

But the Center for Disease Control (CDC) tells the other side of the story. Simple things, such as how to correctly lay a baby in a crib or sharing the mother’s bed with her baby also contributes to these numbers. So many lives that can be saved with an informational brochure, or even better yet, a new mother’s class.
And when these methods are mentioned, the same subject-averting responses are heard – How can we pay for this? We can’t afford this। We can’t do this right now. Unless they think it will do something for their over-inflated good name, no one really does much of anything.

Shouldn’t we at least ask ourselves how much a Latino baby’s life is really worth to us? At what point in a Latino child’s life does it actually deserve to be saved?
Our society certainly seems to not have a problem destroying our young Latino’s lives by committing the poorest of them to prison without affording them proper representation. So why should we, as a society, have any concern over our Latino babies never getting to see their very first birthday.
Not to mention, the mental well being of the mothers, fathers and other family members that seem to be able , now that it is their baby that is dead, to fathom something that we, as citizens of Stanislaus County, cannot- Just how precious that particular baby’s life is। But I know we can. And I know that we will.

Number three in the state of California for Latino infant mortality. Do I sound redundant to you? Of so many people I have broached this subject with I soon have dialogue similar to the following:

“Did I tell you this already? We are number three in the state of California for Latino infant mortality?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah…।sad। So how was your weekend?”

Across the board we are higher than most other counties for infant mortality, despite the race of the child victims। So it would be very easy (one would think) for me to attend one of these little boy or girl’s funerals, giving as much support as I could to the families on behalf of the citizens of Stanislaus County। Because then I could say:

“My weekend was … (however the experience was) … । I attended the funeral, reception (and other?) of (name of child). I was there on your behalf.”

Wouldn’t that be quite a bold thing to say? I would concur, if you say yes, however, consider if you would: What thoughts may arise? Longer and more lasting thoughts in this dialogue exchange with another individual regarding infant mortality and it’s easy and inexpensive prevention।

Shock, many tell me, is an inappropriate method of communication. But consider this – What if it can save someone’s life, by starting a chain-reaction of thoughts in another individual?
If someone-anyone was on the step of your front door, - dying, how far would you go in your efforts to save that person’s life? Like when one puts up a fence to secure a swimming pool। Why do they actually do this? Because the insurance company told them to put up the fence? Who tells the community to secure or remove the doors of discarded refrigerators? Do you know what I am referring to?

It’s just a matter of logistics and the knowledge that the possibility does indeed exist! The prevention of a child dying!

Perhaps one could wear a big sandwich board downtown that reads on one side, “At what age does innocence end?” And on the other side, “At what age will I earn an obituary in the paper?”
And then, when people approach you because they think it’s a pro choice/ pro life thing, you can answer them by handing to them the two year study which was conducted of our county’s infant mortality provided by the Stanislaus County Health Department।

I mean if they would care so much as to actually approach you in the first place, they must care enough about something? Right?

Or you could take a card table and chair and set up in front of Mi Pueblo on Crows Landing road and distribute literature to soon-to-be Latina mothers। “Para Te” is all the Spanish you would need. I’ve done it! You can too!

“So, what did you do this weekend (your name here)?”

“I saved some baby’s lives and stemmed the tide of grief for families। What are you doing next weekend?”

We don’t have to be number three in Latino infant mortality। You can stop this and reverse this tragic trend. If you would like more information on what you can do to save babies lives and prevent family grief, call the Stanislaus County Health Department. Your taxes are paying for them to help you do this. If it doesn’t work out, email me at toymaker99@yahoo.com and I will make it work out for you.

What’s it worth? It’s worth our very future!

Copyright 2008 (c) Robert Stanford all rights reserved.
Robert Stanford
Airport Neighborhood Activist
http://www.google.com/search?source=ig&hl=en&rlz=&q=%22robert+Stanford%22+modesto

A Day of Days

A Day of Days
By
Robert W. Stanford



December 5th 2006 was truly, a day of days. Perhaps I was the only one who knew this.

I awoke in the morning as though I were a child waking up and rising with the excitement of what I was to find under the Christmas tree.

There was to be a Modesto city Council meeting at 5:30 that evening, and just like a child building up the cache` of presents beneath the tree in the minds eye, I found myself pacing about my office like a hungry, restless panther, pent up in a cage. Who will be there tonight? Who will be there to hear me speak? Will I even get an opportunity to speak, what with so many people in attendance? I had better get there early. There will surly be nothing but standing room only. Yes. Best if I secure the table at the back with that reporter from the Modesto Bee. I wonder if fox 40 will be there. Where will they setup at?
Maybe I should have some statements handy. The whole state will be hearing about this one. I am sure of it!

And for the rest of the day it was nothing but excitement, apprehension and nervousness. The office trashcan eventually overflowed with wadded up sheets of notebook paper consisting of dozens of statements, speeches, and outlines started and re-started over and over again.

I arrived at the Modesto City Council Chambers an hour early, with nothing prepared for anyone. I felt okay about that, since I was sure I would not have the opportunity to speak anyway. So many people would want to speak. And the times I do speak, it’s usually nothing more than local law enforcement issues.

I eagerly stood beside the locked doors of the Council Chambers. “O.k.”, I thought to myself, rising a bit on the tips of my toes, with a pursed lip, “I can stand here and greet everyone
as they come in. Thank them for coming.”

It slowly became fifteen minutes before the meeting was to start and in the forty-five
minutes preceding, I saw only city and county employees, leaving to go home for the day. “O.k.”, I thought. “The doors will open and I can rush in and grab my seat at the table.” And just then, they did unlock the doors – remotely.

I went ahead, as I had planned, taking my usual table at the back. And sure enough, Adam Ashton from the Modesto Bee followed suit.

And within the remaining moments leading up to the commencement of the meeting, only a couple of residents from the entire county appeared. Not one other activist, like myself.

The feeling I had awoke with that day, steadily morphed from sweet anticipation to sorrowful ferocity.

I was to be the only on speaking on the issue. After merely a salute to the flag, a prayer, and few rules of order, my time had come, as the only one to speak on behalf of what has become “My District”. And this is more or less what I had to say:

As I walk though the streets of the Airport District, I am often swept back through time to when I was sixteen years old, walking through the streets of Sioux Indian reservations in South Dakota, looking for non-tribal police, toting my bulky 35 mm camera.

There were no sidewalks or streetlights and just like the Airport District, many of the residents were forced to live in squalor.

I never did find any non-tribal police, but what I did find was something that changed the way I looked at the world, the way I looked at other communities. It changed the way I looked at other people.

These beautiful people, through all of their pain and suffering, were proud to be living on the reservation.

They weren’t proud because they had no sidewalks or basic services like those who lived outside of the reservation, they were proud of their community. Just like the beautiful people living in the Airport District.

Today is truly a day of days. Because today, we – the citizens of Modesto – we have an opportunity to reclaim that which we have somehow lost.

Today, we have an opportunity to show our family of the Airport District that not only are they on the same team, they are very important member of that team.


Author's note: Visit http://www.ci.modesto.ca.us/council and support
your community with your own awareness.



Copyright 2006 Robert Stanford all rights reserved.

Little Things Add Up

Little things add up
By ROBERT W. STANFORD
(originally published in Peace/Life Connections Dec. 2006)

The Holidays are fast approaching. Arriving with them are the all too familiar songs we have heard all our lives. Multiple chances to stock up on eggnog and watch various sections of A Christmas Story over and over again (not that I am an advocate for war toys). And over and over again, you will hear the pleas from various charities to remember those less fortunate than you are, by dropping a little change into red pots or delivering grocery bags of canned food items to a location near you. And every year, over and over again, you will hear — Donations are down again this year.

Whether financially secure or not, every family has a set of goals they struggle to achieve. Some of these goals are fixed, while others are in a constant state of flux. It is the latter that many of us find so difficult to fathom — the difficulties so many families and individuals in our communities encounter every day throughout the year. Some of us have never experienced anything coming close to them. But let us never forget that they are, in fact, very real and are very painful.

Most communities have a food stamp program which allocates a certain amount of money specifically for groceries. While for so many families, this truly is a God-send, most families will have exhausted both their groceries and their food stamp allotment by the third week of every month. This is because most communities do not provide economical assistance of an informative nature. Even a simple brochure detailing precisely how to make appropriate shopping choices such as concentrating more on ingredients and cooking rather than ready-to-eat items. This simple shopping method could ensure that so many families are not going hungry for a full week or more out of every month of the year. All together, this adds up to three months per year. After four years, it would be an entire year. An entire year of hunger.

Too few of the less fortunate individuals within our communities have ever had an opportunity to sit down with someone who could explain the most basic life-skills to them. Skills that so many of us take for granted, that we might often assume that anyone who does not practice them, probably has made an irresponsible choice not to. My hands-on experience has shown me, in no uncertain terms, that this just simply is not true. I can think of no better example to illustrate what the cliché - “Falling through the cracks” really means.

I encourage everyone to give the most they can this and every holiday season, and for those who are unable to give, I understand that it is most certainly by no fault of their own. However, I do believe that, if those of us further along the path of financial stability, would just take the time to reach out to our struggling neighbors and teach them the methods necessary to achieve their goals, provide them with the necessary tools of budgeting, home economics, a little research of programs that may help them find employment, or better employment, perhaps then they would be in a position to give in the next year or maybe, better yet, they would be able to provide these same tools to another family. It’s the gift that keeps on giving, not just for the Holidays, but for all year long and every year after.

Robert Stanford
Community Advocate

Just the Facts, Sir

Just the facts, Sir.
By
Robert W. Stanford
(originally published letter to Peace/Life Connections September 2006)


I am a human/civil rights activist and as such, one of the many duties I have taken upon myself over the past few years, is to monitor the conduct of law enforcement throughout Stanislaus
County.

Over the past two months, there have been significant incidents of police conduct and procedure which have been extremely questionable. One in which involved an un-armed black man who
was shot by one of three officers. This occurred in Modesto.

And then of course there was the incident some in the public has deemed more notable – the rather ambiguous riot occurring in downtown Modesto over this last Labor Day weekend.

Though very few individuals have asked me about the first case, constantly by many people, I am being asked about the second.

In both of these cases, there exists a lack of evidence for any potential victims of Civil Rights Violations/Abuses. Such as consistent witnesses, video footage or photos. At least that
I know of at this time that is publicly available.

In other words, at the time of this writing, one would have no way of effectively presenting either of these cases in a court of law citing Civil Rights violation/abuses.

I feel that, personally, as a Civil Rights activist, I am left with no alternative but to do my very best to appropriately utilize these perceptions – That there “may” have, in one or both instances, occurred police misconduct which resulted not just simply within the Civil Rights violation/abuse of individuals of color, but at the general public at large (there is no difference). And then again, maybe not. Yet, another perception with the same insufficient amount of evidence.

Either way, there is now dialogue commencing between the general concerned public and local law enforcement. And law enforcement is immediately addressing police procedure reviews.
It is the perception, at this point in time, that can be used as a powerful force to send a positive message to ALL law enforcement what the expectations are in our communities – That we
demand and insist on having for ALL people, equal justice and our innocence until guilt is proven to the sincerest effort that truly proper police and legal procedure will allow. Not just on the
streets, but in our court and prison systems as well.

And in the meantime – Let us all cut right to the chase, wake up and realize that Respect and Dignity is a two-way street. Get me some video
and/or pictures. My contact information is below.


Copyright 2006 Robert Stanford all rights reserved.

For the Want of a Glass of Water

For the Want of A Glass of Water
By

Robert W. Stanford

(originally published Stanislaus Peace/Life Connections September 2006)

My name is Robert Stanford and I am a Civil/Humanrights advocate and activist. I am also aCaucasian, with a family history of immigrationto the United States rescued from Naziconcentration camps of Poland.

I grew up on a goat farm in Delhi, surrounded by Mexican immigrants, most of which could not speak English, but this did not deter my Grandparents and myself from working and communing with thesepeople over several years, without being able to communicate in a conventional sense.

My best friend was named Pedro, who spoke only Spanish, while I spoke only English. But I remember many dinners and evenings our families spent together as well as countless hours and events of my childhood comprised of Pedro and me.

When I contemplate what it would take to elicit compassion and understanding for undocumented Mexican immigrants from a seemingly hostile,competitive and heartless general public, too easily do I forget my own life experiences that have made it so much easier for me to open my mind and heart to undocumented Mexican immigrants despite any language or cultural barriers that might exist.

In the summer of 2005, I organized a coalition comprised of the only people I could convince to flock to my banner – Latino Senior Citizens,who themselves in their youth had worked in the fields of the Central Valley, to seek out small farms throughout Stanislaus, San Joaquin and Merced counties, delivering bottled water, health and pesticide information to undocumented migrant Mexican farm workers.

On one of these excursions I encountered an elderly undocumented Mexican woman. It was all she could do to walk over to me, navigating the furrows of the dirt field with legs that were tired and weak from hours of squatting with noshade or relief. When she reached me, I held out a bottle of the iced water I had brought. She ignored this and instead wrapped her arms around me and held me so tight, that I could feel her heart beat through the fabric of my perspiration-soaked t-shirt.

It was right then and there that I had a moment of clarity. I knew exactly who these people were, that were dying in record numbers at our border as well as in our very own fields. They were our Mothers, our Fathers, our Brothers, our Sisters, and our children – our Family.

A few days later, I stood respectfully before the Stanislaus Board of Supervisors pleading for understanding of the fatalities being suffered by migrant farm workers in our very own communities here in the Central Valley.

With great passion, emotion and tears, I spoke without rehearsal,“They are dying in our fields today, to put food on your table tomorrow!” I said, banging myfist on the podium.

One look at their indifferent white faces showed me that clearly I had wasted my time. For the same reason my voice and actions are marginalized by the local media, my passion and feelings were dismissed by these people.

How could I possibly know anything about the plight of a Mexican farm worker? I was not a Mexican, and even if I were, what would be their excuse then? To not so easily prevent the loss of a precious human life.

All for the want of a glass of water.

Robert Stanford