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Home Sweet Home
Article written by Joy Caldwell after a visit to 2 of Washington State's Residential Habilitation Centers (RHC's).
The feelings attached to these words are as unique as the person hearing them. Generally though, there is agreement that the word “home” stirs feelings of warmth, welcome, and a sense of belonging in addition to a place of shelter where needs are met in a caring environment versus the word “house” – a physical place of residence providing shelter.
It was with some of these thoughts that I ventured out to visit two of Washington State’s Residential Habilitation Centers (RHC’s) at Fircrest & Rainier in Shoreline & Buckley respectively. Having heard arguments on both sides of the debate – for & against consolidation & closure of these facilities, I wanted to see for myself and form my own opinion. “Are these institutions really homes where people live? Or are they houses where residents are placed with their basic needs met?”
I was particularly struck by the locations of both of these RHC’s. They are both on large parcels of land, beautifully landscaped in picturesque settings, yet notably secluded from their surrounding cities and communities.
Arriving at Fircrest, I couldn’t help but notice the age of the brick buildings, the overwhelming impression - cold and impersonal. Of course the large unsightly food, laundry, and garbage carts located outside the front doors of each cottage confirmed I had indeed arrived at an institution versus a community. Rainier on the other hand reminded me of an army base or prison facility behind the gates and fences with its old-style stark white peeling paint and red Spanish tile roofs, and buildings connected by long covered walkways.
I found the facilities at each campus were clean and maintained, though they felt cold, archaic, and in great need of modern updates both inside and out. I found it peculiar that décor on both campuses looked like thrift store purchases from many years gone by, curled posters, cheaply framed faded prints, outdated curtains hung on barred windows if at all.
I appreciate the work that these residents perform: sterilizing used Comcast remotes, shredding documents, thrift store duties, and pouring beautiful paving stones. However, the biggest factor I found lacking was the sense of community. I kept pondering, “How will the public ever be able to appreciate the values of equal opportunity, full participation, independence, and economic self-sufficiency for people with developmental disabilities if they’re kept isolated and segregated?
When was the last time these adults and youths went on a vacation, went camping, saw a school play, or heard the laughter of a child?”
At Fircrest, each living room is arranged with one shared T.V. and generic “Dr’s Office” chairs set around the sparsely decorated walls of the vinyl floor room. Each resident here has their own very small bedroom, meagerly furnished with a twin-size bed and dresser, sometimes a chair. Out of the dozen or more bedrooms I visited there, only a meager few appeared personalized in any way. I thought, “Even college dormitories are more appealing than this”. Unfortunately nothing I observed here made me feel the least bit inclined to get comfortable and have a cup of tea anywhere – a pleasure I instinctively link to feelings of home.
Unexpectedly, I did observe more texture, color and variety when it came to décor and “home-like” comforts in the Rainier cottages, where 8 residents share two warmly decorated living areas per side with more comfortable furnishings, overstuffed chairs and recliners. I noted that some of the Rainier residents also share larger more personalized bedrooms, 2 to a room, comfortably furnished with warm décor. Colorful attractive home-style dinnerware adorned Rainier’s tables while residents ate from standard melamine cafeteria dishes at Fircrest.
As I toured the RHC’s, I kept thinking about my second daughter Jessica. When she was born with Down syndrome and cerebral palsy, I was given the choice to place her in an institution where she’d be cared for. “Would Jessica be comfortable enough to call one of these cottages home? Would she be happy with the lack of freedom, lack of choices and lack of independence? Would she really be safer set apart FROM the community in an institutional house or is she safer IN a community home?”
I couldn’t help but feel sad and discouraged as I left these properties, wondering if the adults and youths were there willingly or if they’d ever been given a choice. Are they really at home or are they prisoners kept safe inside prettied up houses? I felt equally troubled for the families who had brought their family members to these houses. What had led them here? What choices and options were they given?
As I drove away from these campuses, I turned my heart towards the warmth of home. My heart felt lighter as I pondered my five daughters, each with her own unique abilities - her sense of belonging, her safe place in our home where hugs abound, laughter comes easy, choices are given, freedom is earned and independence is learned. “Home Sweet Home” – these words have never meant more.
The feelings attached to these words are as unique as the person hearing them. Generally though, there is agreement that the word “home” stirs feelings of warmth, welcome, and a sense of belonging in addition to a place of shelter where needs are met in a caring environment versus the word “house” – a physical place of residence providing shelter.
It was with some of these thoughts that I ventured out to visit two of Washington State’s Residential Habilitation Centers (RHC’s) at Fircrest & Rainier in Shoreline & Buckley respectively. Having heard arguments on both sides of the debate – for & against consolidation & closure of these facilities, I wanted to see for myself and form my own opinion. “Are these institutions really homes where people live? Or are they houses where residents are placed with their basic needs met?”
I was particularly struck by the locations of both of these RHC’s. They are both on large parcels of land, beautifully landscaped in picturesque settings, yet notably secluded from their surrounding cities and communities.
Arriving at Fircrest, I couldn’t help but notice the age of the brick buildings, the overwhelming impression - cold and impersonal. Of course the large unsightly food, laundry, and garbage carts located outside the front doors of each cottage confirmed I had indeed arrived at an institution versus a community. Rainier on the other hand reminded me of an army base or prison facility behind the gates and fences with its old-style stark white peeling paint and red Spanish tile roofs, and buildings connected by long covered walkways.
I found the facilities at each campus were clean and maintained, though they felt cold, archaic, and in great need of modern updates both inside and out. I found it peculiar that décor on both campuses looked like thrift store purchases from many years gone by, curled posters, cheaply framed faded prints, outdated curtains hung on barred windows if at all.
I appreciate the work that these residents perform: sterilizing used Comcast remotes, shredding documents, thrift store duties, and pouring beautiful paving stones. However, the biggest factor I found lacking was the sense of community. I kept pondering, “How will the public ever be able to appreciate the values of equal opportunity, full participation, independence, and economic self-sufficiency for people with developmental disabilities if they’re kept isolated and segregated?
When was the last time these adults and youths went on a vacation, went camping, saw a school play, or heard the laughter of a child?”
At Fircrest, each living room is arranged with one shared T.V. and generic “Dr’s Office” chairs set around the sparsely decorated walls of the vinyl floor room. Each resident here has their own very small bedroom, meagerly furnished with a twin-size bed and dresser, sometimes a chair. Out of the dozen or more bedrooms I visited there, only a meager few appeared personalized in any way. I thought, “Even college dormitories are more appealing than this”. Unfortunately nothing I observed here made me feel the least bit inclined to get comfortable and have a cup of tea anywhere – a pleasure I instinctively link to feelings of home.
Unexpectedly, I did observe more texture, color and variety when it came to décor and “home-like” comforts in the Rainier cottages, where 8 residents share two warmly decorated living areas per side with more comfortable furnishings, overstuffed chairs and recliners. I noted that some of the Rainier residents also share larger more personalized bedrooms, 2 to a room, comfortably furnished with warm décor. Colorful attractive home-style dinnerware adorned Rainier’s tables while residents ate from standard melamine cafeteria dishes at Fircrest.
As I toured the RHC’s, I kept thinking about my second daughter Jessica. When she was born with Down syndrome and cerebral palsy, I was given the choice to place her in an institution where she’d be cared for. “Would Jessica be comfortable enough to call one of these cottages home? Would she be happy with the lack of freedom, lack of choices and lack of independence? Would she really be safer set apart FROM the community in an institutional house or is she safer IN a community home?”
I couldn’t help but feel sad and discouraged as I left these properties, wondering if the adults and youths were there willingly or if they’d ever been given a choice. Are they really at home or are they prisoners kept safe inside prettied up houses? I felt equally troubled for the families who had brought their family members to these houses. What had led them here? What choices and options were they given?
As I drove away from these campuses, I turned my heart towards the warmth of home. My heart felt lighter as I pondered my five daughters, each with her own unique abilities - her sense of belonging, her safe place in our home where hugs abound, laughter comes easy, choices are given, freedom is earned and independence is learned. “Home Sweet Home” – these words have never meant more.
RHC, Orphanage or Old Folks Home…?
Joy Caldwell (Mount Vernon, WA)
Article regarding the importance of respecting the dignity of people with developmental disabilities in the same manner that we respect the dignity of all our family members at any age.
The thought I have been pondering as of late is this... How is a Residential Habilitation Center (Institution for people with disabilities) any different from an orphanage or an old folks’ home? What happened to our orphanages? Why have old folks homes made the change and been transformed into assisted living facilities? Why do most aging seniors still resist placement in these places? Why do most students prefer independent living over dormitories?
There are many reasons, not least of which are the mountains of statistics and reports of abuse within orphanages, old folks homes, institutions, and dormitories. I also believe it’s because we value the sense of individuality and choice in the context of community. We prefer to place our “individual mark” and signature on our lives. We want to choose where we live and with whom.
Personally, I’m grateful that as a society, most of us understand that institutions are not the answer for anyone – displaced children, our elderly, or our family members with disabilities. It’s a matter of respect, dignity, and the freedoms of choice and individuality we value as Americans, no matter the age or level of ability. We value families. Children belong in family settings. Children with developmental disabilities are no different.
I’m grateful for all of the supports that enable my daughter with multiple significant disabilities to live at home, attend her neighborhood school and grow into a delightful independent young lady. My daughter has Down syndrome, left hemiplegic cerebral palsy, and Attention Deficit Disorder, along with all the multitude of challenges that each of these diagnoses brings... medically, cognitively, socially, emotionally, physically, etc. We will be forever indebted to the many families and professionals who went before us, who advocated and fought for these freedoms, services, supports, and laws over the past decades.
I am also a daughter and granddaughter. My father has developed significant physical disabilities. My grandmother is 94 years old and has significant physical issues. Both my father and grandmother would "qualify" for placement in an "Old Folks Home" where they would receive nursing care and assistance as needed. However, both of them choose to remain at home, where others assist them as needed. There’s the key: appropriate resources for families and community caregivers to provide the necessary services and supports.
We have been making progress at providing these for aging seniors and children in the foster care system. Change always comes with opportunities for growth. Heaven forbid we go backwards. After all, if I’m going to treat my daughter, parents and grandmother the way I want to be treated, I’m going to do my best to keep them OUT of the institutions because heaven knows it’s not where I want to live.
There are many reasons, not least of which are the mountains of statistics and reports of abuse within orphanages, old folks homes, institutions, and dormitories. I also believe it’s because we value the sense of individuality and choice in the context of community. We prefer to place our “individual mark” and signature on our lives. We want to choose where we live and with whom.
Personally, I’m grateful that as a society, most of us understand that institutions are not the answer for anyone – displaced children, our elderly, or our family members with disabilities. It’s a matter of respect, dignity, and the freedoms of choice and individuality we value as Americans, no matter the age or level of ability. We value families. Children belong in family settings. Children with developmental disabilities are no different.
I’m grateful for all of the supports that enable my daughter with multiple significant disabilities to live at home, attend her neighborhood school and grow into a delightful independent young lady. My daughter has Down syndrome, left hemiplegic cerebral palsy, and Attention Deficit Disorder, along with all the multitude of challenges that each of these diagnoses brings... medically, cognitively, socially, emotionally, physically, etc. We will be forever indebted to the many families and professionals who went before us, who advocated and fought for these freedoms, services, supports, and laws over the past decades.
I am also a daughter and granddaughter. My father has developed significant physical disabilities. My grandmother is 94 years old and has significant physical issues. Both my father and grandmother would "qualify" for placement in an "Old Folks Home" where they would receive nursing care and assistance as needed. However, both of them choose to remain at home, where others assist them as needed. There’s the key: appropriate resources for families and community caregivers to provide the necessary services and supports.
We have been making progress at providing these for aging seniors and children in the foster care system. Change always comes with opportunities for growth. Heaven forbid we go backwards. After all, if I’m going to treat my daughter, parents and grandmother the way I want to be treated, I’m going to do my best to keep them OUT of the institutions because heaven knows it’s not where I want to live.
In Our Shoes - 13,600+ Waiting - Families Stories
WALK IN OUR SHOES: The sun was shining and we had a great turnout of volunteers from all over the State for our shoe protest on Wednesday, March 23rd. To everyone who donated shoes for the demonstration, thank you! Each pair of shoes represented approximately 13 people waiting for services. (13,600+ people waiting!) We pulled this off together – each one doing their part – thank you so much!
Click here to read some families' stories. They will give you a new perspective of what we need.
Please continue sending your Legislators the message that we desperately need them to close and consolidate the institutions (RHC’s) in order to free up much needed resources for community services and for those waiting. Let them know how you want them to prioritize the budget and protect services for our most vulnerable citizens.
Click here to read some families' stories. They will give you a new perspective of what we need.
Please continue sending your Legislators the message that we desperately need them to close and consolidate the institutions (RHC’s) in order to free up much needed resources for community services and for those waiting. Let them know how you want them to prioritize the budget and protect services for our most vulnerable citizens.
