So the Herald today began what will clearly be a series of articles about how DCF "kidnaps" elderly folks and places them in crappy ALFs and steals their money. One tale was about a retired accountant living alone and a hoarder, who went for an evaluation and ended up in a place in Hialeah that he called "Devil's Island." His niece in California was apparently the only Power of Attorney -- the article doesn't say why he didn't have competent local help -- and he spent a few years in poor care before he was placed in an apparently acceptable ALF in North Miami that he likes.
The article brought back a bad memory from about 15 years ago, when I was a Guardian ad Litem for a teenaged girl. Paul, he of more bleeding heart than I, got heavily involved with the program -- he was GAL for several kids and became friends with the Chief Judge at the time, Cindy Lederman. Paul convinced me to take the certification class, which was over several weekends in some dated facility in Allapatah, as I recall, and I became a GAL, too.
My first ward was an unusual teen. She came from a terrible background -- coke addict Mom with a series of boyfriends who beat up Mom and C, the girl, and when I met her, she was living in a group home for teen girls over by ZooMiami -- actually a very nice house on a nice street. We got to know each other a bit -- but here was the thing -- she was tested with a genius IQ. I saw reports from her teachers, and she was a talented writer. She was pretty, and I watched as she switched her demeanor -- speaking "white" to me and changing to ghetto when one of the other inner city girls spoke to her.
I met her over several months -- explaining that with her talents -- she could probably got to Harvard on a full scholarship -- just keep on the path she was on, having escaped a hellish childhood -- and she could be a female Obama. I even brought D2 with me on a visit -- home from UF -- to share happy tales of college life -- in hopes that would inspire C.
It was not to be. She got pregnant with her boyfriend, a convicted felon, and decided to keep her baby since "I will finally have someone who loves and needs me." Turns out, that's what's behind many teen pregnancies...
This led to a case management conference, which I attended by telephone. There were, no kidding, SEVEN paid DCF and fellow traveler people on the line -- psychologists, case managers, social workers, and their aides. All I could think of was my growing property tax bill and now knowing why it was growing.
It was decided that the trailer C planned to move into when the baby came, with felon baby daddy, needed to be inspected. It was in DEEP Florida City. The 7 DCFers said to me "As GAL, you need to go check it out."
I lost it -- reminding them of the group on the call, I was the only volunteer! Could one of them, paid nice government salaries, maybe make the visit? One of the bosses, a cool Black fellow I later met (he was flattered when I told him he resembled one of my childhood heroes, Walt Frazier) agreed, and asked one of the flunkies to make the visit. Lord.
Then C gave birth, and another conference. They told me they wished me to be GAL for the baby, too. I pointed out there could be no clearer conflict -- what if I decided the baby needed to be removed, but my existing client, C, wanted to keep the baby. The baby clearly needed his own advocate.
I got a call a few days later. They found someone who would be GAL for both -- my services were no longer needed. I got a copy of the Court Order relieving me of my duties.
Probably a better man and lawyer would have plowed on -- finding a new needy youth to help -- but my aversion to morons and moronic institutions won out. That was my last foray into the world of DCF.
Paul presses on, and I praise him for it. He goes bi-weekly to a grade school in Liberty City and helps out. He has befriended the principal, Lamar, and enjoys his time there with the kids. I am proud he does these things -- I plan to toast him tonight at our family's non seder, seder.
Wifey's friend Cara sold her condo a few years back for 7 figures and paid a huge entry fee into a concierge place in Aventura -- she lives in a regular unit, and is guaranteed admittance to ALF and nursing home if needed.
Cara is youthful and beautiful and I was kind of surprised at her decision. But she explained she has no kids or grandkids, no family (a younger sister in Arizona died of cancer) and she knew she needed to take care of herself in the future, assuming she declines. I get it.
When she moved in, the facility told her to invite all her friends for a dinner -- an obvious marketing ploy -- maybe one of us might with to cut an $800K check for admittance, too. We went, and the food and room were top notch. But then...as you walk to the elevators, there are a bunch of wheelchairs and drooling folks.
Recently, she invited Wifey and me to lunch there. I told Wifey it is my life's intent to NEVER set foot in a "retirement community" as the running joke on The Sopranos goes, again. So now Wifey is engaged in negotiations -- neither Cara nor her BFF Ronnie, who now lives where Paul does, wish to drive anymore, and Wifey and her bad back don't wish to drive to Aventura, either.
I imagine my former "client," C, must be in her late 20s now. When I was discharged, I told her to reach out to me anytime if I could help her. I never heard from her. I hope she is well -- her baby must be in high school now, himself. Hopefully his Mom's superior intellect has helped them along.
And as for Wifey and me? Hopefully we live right here in Villa Wifey for the duration -- bringing in aides if they become needed. As my neighbor the rich widow Judy said the other day: "As long as one of you is functional -- you're golden."
I guess we'll see...
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