Homeless veterans are finding New Directions

By   M. S. Bellgraph

Here on the Hill, we celebrate our military personnel. Each of our four cities honors residents in the armed forces and their families through the Blue Star program. We have more than a few organizations that send holiday care packages to troops overseas — mostly in Iraq and Afghanistan. The News has paid tribute to many of our veterans and medal-winning heroes — past and present — here on the pages of the newspaper. So I’m hoping residents will open their hearts to the veterans living and fighting a new battle at New Directions, a West Los Angeles-based nonprofit group that is dedicated to taking homeless veterans from the street to recovery.

All too often, we honor those who are fighting, remember the fallen and forget the rest. There is more to combat than physical injury. There are emotional and mental wounds, making the return to civilian life difficult. We at home can’t begin to understand what combat personnel see, hear and feel. Perhaps this is why they can’t discuss their experiences with us. Many of them turn to alcohol and other substances to ease the pain and erase the memories.

Many veterans get caught up in a cycle of addiction, violence, abuse, crime and homelessness. Whether you’re pro- or anti-war, you have to understand that this is not a fitting homecoming for those who take on the daunting task of defending this country.

There are an estimated 300,000 homeless veterans in the United States. Approximately 24,000 of them are here in Los Angeles. Fifty-four percent, as identified by the West L.A. Veterans Administration, have a substance abuse problem. Thirty-three percent have a serious psychiatric disorder, and 23 percent have both a serious psychiatric disorder and a substance abuse problem.

The country just doesn’t deal with this problem, and it crosses age, race and gender.

“The military regime is front loaded,” said Sharon Frochen, a case manager and alumna of New Directions. “There’s nothing when they come back.”

Frochen, like so many veterans I talked with during a recent visit to the West L.A. residential facility, agrees that the U.S. government spends its money getting the Armed Forces to their destinations, leaving nothing left over to provide much-needed services for personnel once they’re released from duty. That’s one of the reasons why so many end up on the street. New Directions picks up where the VA leaves off.

Frochen directs the organization’s choir and works with women housed at a separate location. Currently, the facility houses 17 homeless women veterans — many who were abused while living on the streets. “It’s hard to stay on the streets without trauma,” she said.

Young women are part of a new breed of combat veterans; something this country may not be ready for. “We’re not prepared for women to come back from combat,” Frochen said.

Unlike Vietnam, explained Frochen, where there were at least some safe zones, there are none in Iraq, where women serve alongside their male counterparts and live with constant fear of an improvised explosive device or suicide bomber on the street. That kind of life for anyone is more than difficult. “That breaks a human being,” Frochen said.

“All you want is to live your life,” she added, “but you don’t know how.”

Even the older veterans, she said, still won’t open up about their experiences. “Once you’ve seen the things they saw, no one will make you feel safe enough to talk about it.”

Case manager Dale Adams, an alumnus of New Directions, is a Desert Storm veteran. He recalled that when he returned from the Persian Gulf, there was still a backlog of Vietnam-era vets waiting for help. “We’re always a war behind,” he said.

This prevented those returning from Desert Storm from getting the help they needed, and Adams said we won’t be prepared for the influx of new veterans from Iraq and Afghanistan.

“Coming back,” Adams said, “it’s alien. It’s hard to cope. We’re given a different war to fight.”

I talked to many people the day I visited New Directions. My tour guide, Director of Development Murray Wood, introduced me to residents who were working to restore their lives and a number of case managers, all alumni of the program, who succeeded. “[Seeing] former residents on staff,” Adams said, “helps the guys see that there’s hope.”

I saw men at every stage — from those in admission with the “thousand-mile stare” to those who are ready to re-enter the world. John Hill, who handles new admissions, said that most of the guys he sees come straight from the streets. He lets them rest, gives them clothes and three square meals for as long as they stay. “When their heads are clear,” he said, “I talk to them about the program.” About 45 percent, he said, stay. The rest go back on the streets. After living on the streets for 25 to 30 years, it’s all that most of them know.

Wood, Hill, Adams and Frochen, along with the rest of the New Directions staff, do amazing work. But there is still so much more to do. There are 200 men and 17 women housed at New Directions’ facilities. The organization hopes to secure several abandoned VA buildings to provide more housing to reach more homeless veterans. But this will take money, not only to repair and convert the buildings, but also to provide meals, clothing, counseling, basic-skills education and job training. New Directions receives $28 per diem per person from the VA, but it costs $75. The program relies on the generosity of the greater Los Angeles community to make up the difference.

For the next three months, I will tell you more about New Directions and profile several of its veterans. I hope you join me, and perhaps join in the fight for the recovery of these brave souls.

For more information about New Directions, visit www.ndvets.org.

Reprinted from:  Palos Verdes Peninsula News