Stephanie Balch
On Her Own
Once Stephanie’s children had grown, she was free to spread her wings and explore the world on her own terms. She ended her marriage to Charlie in 1978, moved to Vancouver’s West End and completed her training to become a Notary Public. Together with her dear friend, Maureen Hill, Stephanie lived life to the fullest - dancing the nights away on weekends, spending time with her growing tribe of grandchildren, exploring “New Age” practices, and meeting and falling in love with her long-time partner, Eugenio Martens..
The stories on this page are from this period in Stephanie’s life.
Stephanie wrote this piece sometime in the late 1990s or early 2000s and submitted it for publication to a local newspaper which was at that time printing human interest stories from members of the general public. I don’t think her story was printed but it should have been. Her caring and compassion shine through – never once does she doubt that these kids are doing anything other than trying to survive. Not once does she wonder if they will buy drugs or booze with the money she gave them. She just sees lost children who need love and a good home. Stephanie always saw the best in people, and while some might call that naïve, I call it beautiful.
The car washing girl made my day. Just a young girl – only maybe 13 or 14 years old – tall, slim with a beautiful, open face, albeit surrounded by badly peroxided blonde hair with a wide green streak across her brow. When I declined her offer to wash my windshield, she was cheerful. “Have a good day anyway” she replied.
The traffic was horrendous, bumper to bumper in rush hour and the weather hot and humid. It had taken me half an hour to reach a distance which would normally take only five minutes. I was hot and frustrated and after a long, tedious workday, I just wanted to get home. But as I sat waiting for the traffic lights to change, I noticed the group of four or five young people sitting cross-legged in a circle on the grass verge of the sidewalk, out of the way of any pedestrian traffic.
One young man appeared to be the leader, planning strategies for survival with the others as they listened intently, while the young blond child continued her efforts to increase their communal fortunes, earning a few dollars washing windshields.
As I watched them, I found myself reaching for my purse; if I had some change, I would give it to them. I found a five-dollar bill and as the traffic lights changed, I leaned across and offered it to the girl through the passenger-side window. A puzzled expression appeared on her face as she looked first at the $5.00 then at me. I waved the bill at her. “Take it” I said, moving away with the traffic. As she did so, she flashed me the most beautiful smile, which lit up her young face. She called out “Thank you – can I wash your windshield?” as she joined her friends on the sidewalk to share her good fortune. They all burst into smiles, and I reflected on my own good fortune, to be given an opportunity to put smiles on those young faces.
As I drove away, I could not help thinking about these young people – now designated “street kids”. What circumstances have driven them from their homes and families to survive dangerously alone on the streets?
In our so-called advanced world of space travel, high technology, advanced computer sciences, reality for some is not so far removed from the Victoria era of abject poverty and despair, so well depicted by Charles Dickens in Oliver Twist with Fagan and the “street kids” of those days. Why does our advanced learning not include a better way for the waifs and strays of our era to survive? These are our children. Why is it still a Victorian world for them? They will be the parents of the next generation of Canadians. What kind of experience and teaching will they be able to pass on to their children? We cannot afford to ignore these lost souls.