Jerry Esterly

"I gotta get off the streets, Jerry. Can you help me find my sister? Maybe I can stay with her. She's someplace in California. My Mom's in California or Arizona, I'm not sure. I think my Grandmother in Oregon knows where."

For the past twenty years I have worked as a Juvenile Parole Counselor. I'm working with some kids whose parents I used to have on parole. I've seen a lot of stuff, but nothing like the current street scene.

Every week kids drift into my office. Maybe they used to be on parole or maybe they just saw me around. Many street kids are escaping from homes where they have been abused emotionally, physically, and sexually, or from homes where they have found no love or understanding. Some are searching for excitement and some simply drift there because they have no other place to be or to go. When they first hit the streets they are young, cocky, full of fun, and excited about life. After a few years they are eighteen, nineteen, or twenty and the excitement and fun have gone. The streets wear them down. They do too much, they see too much and Color have too much responsibility. They can't take the time to learn and grow. Rather than expanding, their world narrows. Color

The streets are tough a Color nd those that have other Color places to go soon leave. Those that can't, like the kid I'm talking to, have had to scheme, "dumpster dive" for discarded food, panhandle, meter pick, rob, steal, sell dope and their bodies to get by. They get old and desperate, so they come in and we talk.

"If this placement with your sister doesn't come through (they seldom do), how about a program? I can get you into a mission for a day or two. I know it's just temporary, but then maybe something will come up." "Thanks, Jerry. Sounds good. Maybe I'll check that out later and get back to you on that."

The kid says, "How about a job?" A job is a luxury few of these kids can afford because it requires the resources to last the two weeks or a month until the first pay check. I look at this beat-up kid in front of me. Rotten teeth, dirty clothes, no job skills, and little idea of what it takes to get or hold a job. I wonder if he found a job how he could keep it.

So I say "Great idea but I don't have any sure job leads right now. How about a program to help you get a few more job skills? They help find work too, you know."

He looks down. We both know those programs take more time and energy than he is probably able to spend. He says, "Thanks, Jerry, sounds good. I'll get back to you on that one." You see the real reason this kid is in my office is he is sinking and praying someone will save him before he goes under. He needs that miracle, that sister or someone to make it right. He needs food, shelter, clothing, and stability--a place to dream of better things.

In reality these things are probably only going to be available to him in prison. I say probably because once in a while a kid will get lucky. But I wonder if a long shot doesn't come through pretty soon just when this kid will go for the big score, thinking, "If I make it big, great, if not what the hell."

Some are in prison now and at least have food and shelter. Some are dead. They can't be hurt any more. It's funny how we will spend thousands of dollars to lock these kids up and spend nickels and dimes when they're out there on the street and need our help. I wonder most about all those kids who don't seek somebody out. What is the future for the growing numbers that are out there just drifting. I wonder too about the next generation. What kind of parents will these kids be? What kind can they be?

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