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• ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

  Dear Dr Blondel
  
  My name is RD Braden and I was once a boy who lived in your group home. Often those times have come back into my memory and I am filled with a renewed sense of anger, shame, helplessness and embarrased worthlessness that was my childhood. Before, during and since the time I was at the Home, I have lived a hard, hard life, and I would like, before you(or l) die, to express to you how I think your program contributed to my difficulties and did not help me. I would like to give you the benefit of doubt and believe in your sincerity in having the best interest at heart toward us children who were your patients, but that is not easy for me. I don't believe you took any interest in me as a person and my potential even though you were paid to do so, and when I remember, without trying to think about it all, a hand full of times when you did interact with me, like the time you actually called me in for a "weekly" individual counseling session, the only one I can recall in the 12 months I in attendance, you barely looked at me and l do not think you were paying attention to a word I said as you were on your computer typing away and there was no structure to our talk, and another time of you comparing me to another student, saying that he was better than me in the category of "eating habbits" bc you had seen me eating out of the sink- an untruth, Dr senior, for I could not at the time nor can I now remember anything like eating from that nasty sink at one of your run down properties in Florida where you took me and two other boys to work when we should have been in school or enjoying our summer, or doing something of benefit to our lives besides working and sleeping on the floor. I can especially find a twisted humor in you accusing me of that considering our meals at the Home. For example I specifically remember a staff counselor saying he saw the cat scratching in a large box of stale granola we kids ate for breakfast. The diet there was harsh in general, Dr senior, and today I would gladly trade a plate of that casserole we ate daily it seems for something more fit even if served out of a sink! And although we did have beds back at the Home there was never much break to the system of "matureation therapy" which was work, work, work and neglect. I think we attended school for 4 hours, then we went to lunch followed by working, diner, and then more work. I know we did group counseling in the evenings for an hour or two and I remember seeing your face a lot there when we talked about and focused on our problems. I also question your Spartan style system of having the higher ranking boys manage and dicipline the others. I remember your staff too: The arrogant, indifferent Daniel Snow; the ruffians, Bill Burns, how old was he, early twenties? Hardly mature enough for the job. And that couple who lived in the trailer and gave us tobacco, always spanking their newborn baby, the ones that accused me of stealing a candy bar from their grocery bag when I knew nothing about it and obviously it could have been anyone if it happened at all; The overwhelmed ineffective Kent Grieves; And you of course , Blondel, with your system of maturation grading. It was your responsibility to oversee my proper character development at that critical age, to build my confidence and self worth, to teach me the right way to behave. Your system, hardly conducive to those objectives, was the beginning, and set the stage for what has been 25 years of my life lost on a road though hell, unimaginable I promise, a road you could have done a lot to stear me around. I do not blame you, of course. I just want you to know what I think of you and your group home.

  Added June 20, 2017 by Dean Braden