Alex Valesco wants to be a fireman when he grows up. He likes
video games and watches TV.
The 4-year-old is shy with strangers, but constantly flashes a
smile. He seems to lead a normal life, but he doesn’t.
Alex is homeless. And he has been since his family moved to
Hollister from the Northern California coast about 15 months
ago.
Alex Valesco wants to be a fireman when he grows up. He likes video games and watches TV.
The 4-year-old is shy with strangers, but constantly flashes a smile. He seems to lead a normal life, but he doesn’t.
Alex is homeless. And he has been since his family moved to Hollister from the Northern California coast about 15 months ago.
“I like to play Nintendo,” said Alex, in Spanish. “But I don’t have a Nintendo.”
Alex and his brother Tonio, 6, are among hundreds of transient children in San Benito County. And they’re among about 90 kids currently at the county operated mobile home transitional shelter on Southside Road.
Most of the children lack routine in their lives. They’re without hometowns. They’re without permanent schools, family doctors, favorite hang-outs or best friends. But this past week, these children got a small reprieve, a taste of eluding poverty, a slightly better chance to find a friend. The kids were given a playground.
The property manager, Community Services Development Corp. built the 4,000-square-foot Happy Time Playground. The nonprofit organization was helped by donations – $65,000 worth – from 24 local agencies and businesses.
“It’s a great thing,” said Erica Davelas, mother of Alex and Tonio, “because before the playground, the kids were just inside the house and they were getting all riled up.” The fenced-in area is made up of a colorful collection of equipment – swing sets, climbing bars and rings, a scaled-down teeter-totter and two recoiling green alligators, both smiling. There is also a bright yellow playhouse, with little chairs inside, and a little stove.
Now her boys have something else to do, Davelas said, something other than aimlessly wandering through the mobile home grounds.
The playground may also help because homeless children often suffer lagging development – mental, physical and social, according to head of CSDC Brian Abbott, who earned a doctorate in psychology. Those common problems are caused by instability and lacking social companionship.
“Essentially, kids learn to socialize through play activities,” Abbott said. “They learn how to interact and act cooperatively.”
The playground, officials concede, won’t cure problems associated with childhood homelessness. It will only temper the effects, and just temporarily.
Estimating the number of homeless children in the county, officials said, is difficult because so many families – often large families – crowd into homes of relatives and friends.
Hollister’s Code Enforcement Division in January condemned a severely substandard home and garage unit on East Street where three migrant working families, including seven kids under the age of 11, lived. Those conditions, officials say, are not uncommon in San Benito County.
Other local homeless residents roam parks and other remote areas of the county. Some sleep in cars and “make-shift shelters,” according to Abbott. Most are not visible to the public eye.
“You probably don’t necessarily see a lot of homeless people on the streets,” he said.
One conclusion from recent homeless estimates seems certain, though. The population numbers in the thousands, officials said.
Statewide, the Department of Housing and Community Development estimates a childhood homeless population of nearly 100,000 kids. And the percentage of minors who are homeless in California is greater today than any time since the Great Depression, according to a lobbying group in Sacramento – California Housing Advocates.
Locally, the mobile home residents must work or go to school to be accepted into the program. The county also oversees a neighboring camp for migrant-working families, which is usually open four months during the peak agricultural season.
Jose Zepeda is the migrant coordinator for several county school districts. Migrant and homeless parents want the same for their children, he said, as most people in the community: “They want the best for them, and for them to succeed in education.”
Brothers Jose, 10, and Leonel, 12, live with their family at a mobile home. They moved to Hollister from Los Angeles in November, and they’ve been living at the shelter for the past three months.
Their parents, both originally from Honduras, “pack things” for a living, the boys said. But the family hasn’t found affordable housing in Hollister. Their father, Leonel said, isn’t sure they will.
“Dad said, ‘If we don’t find rent, we’re going back to L.A.,'” said Leonel in heavily accented English.
And that typical reality among homeless families, experts say, causes a problem for transient children, who are constantly on the move, often failing to take root in a stable school environment.
“They leave a place. They leave behind friends, the friends made at school,” Flores said. “Once they do find housing, oftentimes they go through the whole process again, the process of feeling comfortable.”
Furthermore, poor school attendance is just one of several problems faced by homeless children. Lack of accessible health care is an even bigger problem, Abbott said. “They don’t have insurance because they have no money.”
While low-cost and even free services are offered in town at places like the San Benito Health Foundation, most homeless families lack transportation to appointments, Abbott said.
As one result of that, homeless children are reported in fair or poor health twice as often as other children, according to studies.
“If you’re homeless, you’re just trying to live day-by-day to exist,” Abbott said. “You’re not going to have some of those opportunities other kids have.”
But now with a new playground – for some kids a temporary respite, a recess from hardship – the Southside homeless children finally have a decent place to play. To most of them, it is luxury.
“Now I’ll finally get to meet some friends and play with them,” said Tonio, who, like his brother, also wants to be a firefighter when he grows up.
Tonio and Alex – along with their mother and baby sister, 6-month-old Leslie – attended the dedication ceremony last week. They were among a handful of homeless residents mingled into a crowd of about 100 local government and business leaders.
“There was a lot of time, money and love that went into this project,” said Lisa Sprague, a member of the National Association of Women in Construction’s local chapter, which built the bright yellow playhouse.
Isolated behind the swarm of leaders stood Hollister’s Alfred Vargas, hands rested on a stroller carrying his 5-month-old child. Vargas, a homeless resident who doesn’t understand English, attentively watched the ceremony.
“It’s very important” to find a home, he said, “for my child.”
While Abbott thanked the 24 donors, homeless children cheerfully played in the background on the new equipment. Voices and laughter echoed from the playhouse.
When the ceremony ended, officials applauded. And in the distance, a sprinkling of little claps followed.
