THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, February 29, 1996 TAG: 9602290590
SECTION: NORFOLK COMPASS PAGE: 12 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover story
SOURCE: BY JOAN C. STANUS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 187 lines
LIKE GIRLFRIENDS DO, Sabra Guth and Carrie Miller get together about once a week to go to dinner, shop or just hang out.
On this particular Thursday night they are baking cookies in Miller's West Ghent apartment.
It hadn't been easy to plan the evening, even though the two live only blocks apart. Both women work, and Guth spends most weekends with her boyfriend. As an Army flight surgeon, Miller has a schedule during the week that barely leaves her time enough to eat meals. Just minutes before Guth arrived for the bake-off, Miller had rushed in from a harrowing day at work and wolfed down a bowl of Spaghettios. Guth was running late, too; she had gone to an after-work dance with her boyfriend.
But now the two friends are finally settling down to some serious gossiping and baking.
Nestled in a corner of Miller's spartan kitchen with heads tucked together, the women easily chat about their friends, cooking and music while measuring out flour and nibbling on chocolate chips.
As Miller reaches over to grab a spoon from the sink, she inadvertently bumps into Guth.
``Oh, Carrie. I didn't mean to be in your way,'' Guth apologizes with a start.
``Silly, you're not in my way,'' Miller responds, flashing a grin at her friend.
Misinterpreting her friend's words, Guth gets quiet, looks a bit hurt, and says, defensively: ``I'm not silly.''
``Oh, I know,'' Miller immediately agrees, wrapping her arm around Guth's waist to give her a quick hug. ``I know.''
Guth hugs back, and in a flash, the misunderstanding is forgotten. The two go back to their work, laughing about their awkward kitchen abilities and listening to rock tunes that blast from Miller's CD player.
No one would guess these two women met just a few months ago. In the short time they've been paired as partners in a pilot program sponsored by the Hope House Foundation, Miller and Guth have developed a rare friendship based on mutual respect, common interests and emotional need.
It doesn't much matter that Guth is mentally impaired or that Carrie has a medical degree. Even though they're separated by 17 years of age and gulfs of experience, these two women are friends in the truest sense of the word.
``We have a very special relationship,'' said Miller, a 27-year-old Richmond native. ``I see it as a lifelong one. Sabra is very caring and open and honest about her feelings, unlike most of my friends who keep things all on the surface. It's been so good for me to have such a different perspective.''
``At first, I didn't want another volunteer,'' admitted Guth, who, at 44, lives on her own and works as a housekeeper. ``I used to have another one, but then she quit, and I just didn't want to go through that again. I got disappointed and heartbroken.
``I thought if I had Carrie, she might drop me like a hot potato, too. Now, she says she'll be with me from now on and that makes me feel better.''
It was not completely fortuitous that Miller and Guth found themselves linked in this unlikely friendship. As participants in Hope House's pilot program, Pathways to the Community, the two were put together after undergoing an orientation and screening process to gauge their interests and compatibility.
Similar to Big Brothers and Big Sisters, the program was created with a $70,000 grant from the Virginia Board of Disabilities to help establish bonds between developmentally handicapped adults served by the foundation and community volunteers.
Ensuring that the pairs are compatible is one of the most important aspects of the program, coordinators maintain. It is so important that if partners discover they aren't compatible, a rematch will be made.
``We're looking for that click,'' explained Christine Rice, project coordinator. ``Our idea is that our program participants will become more involved in the community in a natural way because they'll be with friends and that, eventually, long-term friendships will develop.''
Although the initial grant covers only one year, Hope House coordinators are so sure of the program's success after only a few pairings that they're already looking into additional funding sources to extend Pathways into 1997.
``This is the first real project that gives us a chance to effectively integrate these adults into the community,'' noted Jan Larson, supervisor of the project. ``Just having them in the community doesn't necessarily connect them to it. By pairing them with volunteers, it exposes them to a range of choices that really affects the quality of their lives.
``In the past, we've had volunteers approach us, but we've never had any structure to direct them to. We're hoping this will take off and blossom ... but we're not sure we can support it past this year.''
So far, however, the problem has not been with money. Finding enough volunteers to pair with about 100 developmentally disabled adults, aged 20 to 60, waiting for partners has been a minor setback for the program. In the first few months, only about a half-dozen pairings have been made.
Coordinators fear many potential participants hesitate to get involved for several reasons: They might have misguided stereotypes about the individuals served by Hope House or believe they don't have enough time to commit to the program or adequate skills.
``You really don't have to have any special skills to participate,'' Rice said. ``All you have to bring is yourself. We help, but it's really just people relating to people.''
Hope House offers an orientation program for new participants, and holds monthly meetings, workshops on lifestyle planning skills and periodic group outings. Although additional weekly activities are encouraged for partners, pair members set their own schedules.
``We pretty much let the relationship develop,'' Rice said.
As has been typical in the first pairings of the program, the relationship between volunteer Emily Riddick and Linder Lawrence flowered from the start.
``I got involved because I thought it would be a good idea to practice what I preach,'' said Riddick, a special education specialist with Chesapeake schools. ``After hearing about the program, I realized I didn't have any good friends who were disabled. So I decided to volunteer.''
She was paired with Lawrence, 39, last fall. The two already have become close. So far, they've gone shopping and bowling, attended parties at each other's homes and spent evenings cooking meals. Riddick's family, too, has embraced Linder as an extended member of the household.
``I don't look on this as something extra,'' said Riddick, a busy wife and mother of three teenagers. ``With me, it's what naturally occurs. My family and I are doing activities anyway. You're just including somebody else.''
Getting to know Linder, she added, has given an ``extra spark'' to her life as well as those she loves.
``She has so much to offer,'' Riddick said. ``A lot of people are still not aware many people with disabilities go to work every day and live in their own home. By introducing her to my friends and family this is a way they can learn and become her friend, too.''
Linder lives on her own in Norfolk, rides the bus to her 40-hour-a-week job at Oceana Naval Air Station, and keeps busy during her free time taking art classes and ``celebrity watching.''
``I love that Montel Williams,'' she says.
Like Riddick and Miller, other program volunteers have discovered that instead of only giving to others, they're also getting something in return by becoming a part of the Pathways program.
After hearing about the program at a Knights of Columbus meeting, 56-year-old volunteer Victor Ruvo decided to ``give this program a whirl'' as a way to fill his ``lonely hours.''
``I live alone now,'' said Ruvo, a Norfolk substitute teacher. ``I raised foster sons, but they're grown now. So I thought I'd try this for a while to give me something to do.''
At first, Ruvo looked on his partner, 31-year-old Chris Bland, as a ``poor unfortunate.'' But after getting to know his partner, he has changed his thinking.
``I really didn't think he'd function as well as he does,'' Ruvo admitted. ``He lives on his own, and he has a job as a janitor at Little Creek Amphibious Base. And we have so much in common. We both like sports. We've just become real good friends.''
That is, after all, the whole point of the pairings, Hope House coordinators note.
``People forget that people with disabilities are just people, too, and are deserving of a chance to integrate into the community,'' Larson said. ``We're hoping that we can fight many of those old stereotypes with this program and that people will realize a developmentally impaired person is a good friend to have.'' ILLUSTRATION: Staff photo by HUY NGUYEN
Victor Ruvo, left, and Chris Bland keep an eye on scores during the
bowling outing.
Above, Carrie Miller, left, and Sabra Guth share each other's
company while baking cookies in Miller's West Ghent Apartment. At
left, Guth and Miller enjoy the fruits of their labor. As a
volunteer in the Hope House Foundation's pilot program called
Pathways to the Community, Miller has been paired with Guth.
Staff photos by BETH BERGMAN
Chris Bland, left, encourages Denise Parker during a Pathways to the
Community outing at the Norfolk Naval Base Bowling Center.
Graphics
ABOUT THE PROGRAM
Monthly meetings of the Hope House Foundation's Pathways to the
Community program are held on the first Thursday night of each month
in the fellowship hall of First Presbyterian Church of Norfolk.
The church is at the corner of Colonial and Redgate avenues.
The next meeting is from 6 to 8 p.m. Thursday, March 7.
Members of the community interested in volunteering for the
program are encouraged to attend a meeting or call 625-3467 for more
information.
ON THE COVER
The cover photo, taken by staff photographer Huy Hguyen, shows
Pathways to the Community volunteer Cynthia Taylor, at left,
congratulating Faye Forbes during a bowling outing at the Norfolk
Naval Base Bowling Center.
by CNB