Many people emerge from
mental hospitals with no
place to go except home, liv
ing in sheltered nuclei of
loneliness, surrounded by ac
tivity. But the chance to learn
new life skills, to be em
ployed, to absorb a positive
atmosphere, and share
strawberry shortcake awaits
all at the. . .
Harmony
House
By MIKE LEE
Of the Emerald
‘You really get a different feeling once you’re here
involved with people — it’s a real positive kind of atmos
phere,” says Mary Alice Brown. “I think that’s something
you just can't pick up talking over the phone.”
Brown is the director of Harmony House, whose
clientele is ex-mental hospital patients. She says that
the House serves up to 25 people a day.
“It's primarily a day center, socialization and treat
ment," says Brown. “When we first started it was just an
opportunity to get people outside of their homes. Now
it's more in terms of an activity: we introduce them to
things they might not have been involved in before,
teaching them life skills like cooking.
In the kitchen, five people are making strawberry
shortcake. One puts down what he is doing to greet the
visitor with an outstretched hand.
"Hi, my name is Richard,” he says. Speaking with a
slight slur, he proceeds to the living room to show the
guest an intricate spaceship drawing he is working on. A
staffer-walks in and pries Richard off the guest, sending
Richard back to the kitchen.
Looking at the empty room, the staffer apologizes.
"There are usually a lot more people here," he explains,
“but since it’s the first of the month they get paid today.
They're all out spending their checks somewhere."
"Work has become a really important part of our
program,” says Brown. “What we do is contract with
people in the community. We also have a contract with
Lane County to do work: landscape work, janitorial
work, window washing and lawn work
Workers get paid minimum wage after the job is
done — in cash. It’s not as simple for the House itself.
According to Brown, Harmony House receives funds
i
from United Way, city-county revenue sharing, and
some patients' Medicaid. Although it’s a non-profit cor
poration, contributions are not tax-deductible — yet.
‘‘We’re working on that,” Brown says.
Incorporated in 1972, the House originally oc
cupied space in Lincoln School, then moved around to
“wherever we could find some free space,” according to
Brown. It settled into its present Garden Avenue location
in 1974.
“We've been able to serve a lot more people and a
lot of different kinds of people” over the years. At one
point we were serving a lot of males ages 20 to 30 —
now we’ve really expanded that.”
The group in the kitchen illustrates her point. One
lady cutting strawberries is in her late fifties. Richard is
19. The conversation is light, the staffers maintaining an
interest in what the clients say. Richard is carrying on an
animated, one-sided conversation with the visitor.
“If you’d stop talking so much you could cut more
strawberries,” someone tells him.
“We shop for the foods we prepare for lunch on the
same day,” says Brown. They go to a regular grocery
store "so the people get a feeling for what it’s like."
Photo by Greg GawtowsKi
Other such “transferable skills” are taught in clas
ses including swimming, yoga, basketball, art, field trips
to movies, and disco dancing.
“Maxine only dances the slow ones,” says some
one referring to the older lady.
"My feet stick to the carpet if I dance any faster,”
she retorts.
People “come here to be with other people, to
expand their interests,” explains Brown. If Harmony
House didn’t exist “they’d probably either spend more
time in their houses not going out at all or hang out on the
mall. It would depend on their lifestyles — most of them
were living in one-room quads.”
Brown adds, “It’s less likely that they would be
working. Most of the people here are on welfare sup
plemented by work arranged by Harmony House."
Six of the staff workers are funded by CETA grants,
she says. Above that they have ten volunteers.
With the cake in the oven and the table cleared off,
the group adjourns to the living room. As the visitor
leaves, a voice rings out through the doorway.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a picture of my
rocket?”
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