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Recovery in the News
Sober lives are reason to cheer: Families look on with pride as drug program celebrates graduates
Michele Morgan BoltonJoin Together
September 29, 2006
ALBANY -- The stories that pour from Judge Gerard Maney's drug treatment program almost always break your heart.
A parent's relapse into substance abuse, after months -- or years -- of strength.
Children moved into foster care. Babies born addicted.
On Thursday, though, any tears shed in the Family Court judge's Clinton Avenue courtroom fell in gratitude as a mother and two dads who conquered booze and drugs stepped a little closer to regaining their lives.
And, for two of them, their families.
Since 2002, Maney has seen 23 men and women successfully battle for sobriety in the treatment initiative. In doing so, they reclaimed the right to welcome home a collective 59 children.
"And three women have delivered drug-free babies, which is indeed a miracle," Maney said.
Similar programs at both Albany city and county courts -- and around the state -- also change lives, he said.
As of June, there were 166 drug courts around the state and another 29 in the planning stage. They are supported and funded with local, state and federal dollars.
On Thursday, the graduates' emotions ran from sorrow to joy as they talked of where they've been and what tomorrow will bring.
For Seth, the quest to get clean and sober has taken 17 years. The work was hard. And when he relapsed, after almost completing the Family Court treatment program, he said he thought he'd rather sit in jail than start over.
"I'm the kind of addict who always tries to write his own treatment plan," said Seth. For him and many others in recovery, the use of first name only is standard.
He said he finally understood the importance of handing his life over to a higher power: "I learned that this is not a one-time surrender, but one for each and every day. I have children I'm willing to take care of. I'm willing to be a responsible adult."
For Evelyn, drug and alcohol free for more than 400 days, the struggle continues daily.
"My kids have suffered," she said, stifling sobs. "I don't have custody. That hurts. But I pray one day I will."
Maney lauded them and Jose Cruz, a husband and father of four, for seeking help to become good citizens and better parents.
"When they came to this court they were using, but they maintained a plan for recovery and now here they are, with their families," Maney said.
He recalled, earlier in his law career, when drunken and disorderly conduct were seen only as a crime, not the symptoms of a disease: "Thankfully, that law was changed," Maney said.
The dozens of court employees, prior graduates and family members packed into Maney's modern second-floor courtroom giggled as his treatment program coordinator, Marjorie Huth, held up a colorful Candyland game board. The children's classic depicts a race to a sweet-filled finish amid gingerbread trees and gumdrop lanes. For those in treatment court, the path to health and responsibility is often as windy and blocked by the unexpected, she said.
And all manage differently as they climb toward their goal.
Some, like Seth, race to the top, only to quickly fall back to the start, she said.
Others, like Evelyn, limp a few steps forward and a few in reverse before success, Huth said.
And some, like Jose, walk steadily and quietly, once the decision to change is finally made.
"It's not because he's never had a pitfall," Huth explained, offering tissues all around. "But because when he came to us he had already made the decision. He said, 'I'm done.' He loved his family. And he said, 'I'm not going to let them fall apart.' "
In other words, Huth said, the damage had already been done and it was up to him to fix it.
"He stepped up," she said.
The new Hudson Valley Community College student is studying substance-abuse counseling. He smiled sadly as he acknowledged how far he's come from the day his addiction led to his arrest. He stood humbly before his peers as they applauded and cheered.
Emotion overcame him, as his wife, Hopie, and their four children beamed.
"I never thought I'd see this day," he said softly, tears bright in his eyes. "When I used, I didn't care about nobody."
"I asked God to put people in my life," Jose said as the room fell silent. "Things changed. I changed. I didn't want to live my life like that. I was tired."
He said he didn't know how to ask for help -- until his youngest son ran away from him.
On Thursday, after accepting his certificate, and embracing a loving family, Jose Cruz said he sees things differently now.
"I'm going to be 40 years old and I'm starting college," he said. "It's not easy. But I was killing myself. Everybody that uses drugs is doing the same thing. Today, I want to live."
And nodding to the four young faces focused on his own, the father said, "I want to see them grow up."
Bolton can be reached at 434-2403 or by e-mail at mbolton@timesunion.com.
All Times Union materials copyright 1996-2005, Capital Newspapers Division of The Hearst Corporation, Albany, N.Y.