Growing Hope by Stephen T. Berg is now available

I am very pleased to announce the release of Growing Hope: The Story of Edmonton's Hope Mission by Stephen T. Berg. As the title suggests, this is a historical account of the creation of Edmonton's Hope Mission, a mission that has counseled men and women with addictions, housed the homeless and fed the hungry.

Growing Hope is published by Guardian Books, a division of Essence Publishing. Copies can be ordered from
www.essencebookstore.com.

While most of us are writing about fictional crime, many of us have experienced it. Some of us are survivors of terrible tragedies. I am tied to Hope Mission in a very personal way. My younger brother used their services before he was murdered in 2006. I was honoured beyond words to be asked to edit this book and did so willingly. Some of the stories presented in Growing Hope brought me to tears. Some could have easily been my brother's story.

I hope you'll check out this book and read it. For those of you who are researching life on the street for a story, this book may be quite valuable. For those of you who don't know much about the homeless, addicted or poverty stricken members of your community, this may help you understand more, maybe see a different side. It is such a comfort to me to know that my brother had these services and these people in his life.

To learn more about Growing Hope, please check out:
http://hopemission.blogspot.com/

Cheryl Kaye Tardif
Canadian suspense author & book marketing coach
http://www.cherylktardif.com

Follow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/cherylktardif

Help the homeless find shelter from the storm

A thunderous storm blasted Edmonton today, creeping up on us after a day of mixed sun and clouds and humidity. Yes, even Edmonton, Alberta, can experience humidity.

The wind howled fiercely, pained perhaps by its dutiful bending of the trees. Then the rains came, torrential waterfalls that washed everything clean. Let's start over, the Universe seemed to say. The wind calmed, the skies lightened, the rains faded to quiet teardrops...and the day was fresh and renewed.

I turned to my computer, feeling listless as thunder boomed across the sky--the angels are bowling again. Lightning streaked past my window and I jumped. Then all was still...quiet...the calm before--

Another angry thunder growl.

This is the kind of day when you want to curl up with a good book, maybe snuggled up by a fireplace, glad you're safe and warm and dry in your home. I did this for a while, until a thought crossed my mind. I wonder where the homeless are taking shelter from this storm.

I think about them often--these nameless, faceless people that walk our inner-city streets and alleys, ghostly wisps that come and go as they please, occasionally begging for money or dumpster-diving for treasures to pawn, lost in their own small world of fight or flight. But to me, they aren't all nameless or faceless. I've seen some of them, met them, talked with them...cried with them.

I came across an article about bestselling author Danielle Steel, whom I've read ever since I was a teen. Danielle is involved with helping the homeless in San Francisco. She started an outreach team that she named Yo! Angel! and has been secretly helping people in her community. In an article in Newsweek about Danielle Steel's homeless endeavors, she says, "Dealing with homelessness feels like emptying the ocean with a thimble. But sometimes making a difference in the world, a big difference, happens one person at a time."

Then I stumbled across a blog called Tri to End Homelessness, where Robyn Durham wrote about how she is trying to be a solution, make a difference.

I, too, know this homeless issue all too well. My brother Jason lived on the streets of Edmonton for a while, then in a run-down boarding house. One time I filed a missing persons report on him.

My brother was funny, a practical joker who was also a whiz at anything computer related. As a teen, Jason offered his knowledge to people who needed help with their computers. He was the original Geek Squad. In his early twenties or so, Jason's life seemed normal. At first, we saw a young man who struggled like most young people do to find himself and his place in the world.

I invited Jason to live with my husband and daughter in Edmonton, to make a new life for himself. I had such hopes for him. Jason had such wonderful dreams for himself too.

But something went terribly wrong.

Jason suffered from mental illness (depression, maybe more) and alcoholism. Eventually he was unable to hold a job or budget his money. We didn't know how to help him. We gave him money, food, clothing and other things in the beginning, hoping it would help him get over this hurdle in his life.

Then we tried the "tough love" approach and stopped giving him any money. We didn't want to feed his addictions. It's so hard to know what to do. Jason gradually distanced himself from his family until we rarely heard from him. We often talked about if one day we'd hear he had died in a ditch somewhere.

Some thoughts should never be spoken aloud.

Jason was murdered and left to die in a cold, dark alley on January 23rd, 2006. He was only 28 years old. None of his street family knew anything about his family, other than he had a sister in Edmonton named Cheryl and she wrote a book about whales. That's it.

I'll never forget the day I opened my front door and found two police detectives on my porch. And I'll never forget my brother Jason.

I so admire Danielle Steel and her caring, unselfish desire to help the people on her streets. I've also done what I can (although it is never enough). I have spoken openly about my brother, tried to educate people about the homeless issue.

I was fortunate to meet some of Jason's inner-city 'family', and they are wonderful, caring people who loved my brother. I am so glad he had them! My experiences opened my eyes, gave me some insights and made it easier for me to see behind the addictions, dirt and bruises.

Every person you see on the street, every 'drunken bum', dirty person dressed in ragged clothing, is part of someone's family. They did not choose to live on the streets. Their situation, and in many cases, a misdiagnosed or undiagnosed mental illness or addiction problem is what puts them on the streets. They are people who had hopes and dreams--although most have been squashed by their circumstances.

To those of you who think: "Why don't they just get a job?", would YOU hire them?

Most people wouldn't. And it's not that cut and dry. The homeless need medications and community services that are usually only available in an inner-city area. Many don't have transportation or bank accounts. Many don't have clean clothes to work in, and their addictions lead to late arrivals at work and lack of skills and education make it nearly impossible for them to get hired.

So please don't think that these people are just milking the system. For what--used clothes and disgusting boarding houses with communal bathrooms that are caked in dirt and excrement? Yeah, that's some life! Some 'free' ride they're getting, huh? Don't you wish you could not have to work so you can live like that?

The problem of homelessness will NEVER be eliminated until people start to realize these people need and deserve help. Number of homeless will only increase until society takes them in, accepts them, gets them help, and appreciates them as people--human beings who have lost their way.

What have YOU done for YOUR city's homeless this month? If you've done something helpful or inspiring, I salute your courage and caring. If you've done nothing because you think it's "their problem" and not yours, then you are part of the problem, not part of the solution.

Like Danielle Steel, I'm doing what I can to help combat homelessness--I hope to educate people, while I donate money, food and other items and my time. In October, I'll be participating in the Mission of Hope Radio-thon in Edmonton.

My plea to you: please consider getting involved and bring the homeless home to a community that respects them and wants to help. Be 'the one'; make a difference. Help the homeless find shelter from the storm.

~ Cheryl Kaye Tardif,
bestselling author of Whale Song

P.S. Every time someone buys a copy of Whale Song, a percent of my royalties is donated to Hope Mission and two other nonprofits that help the homeless, poverty-stricken and those with addictions.

In memory of my brother Jason...

Today, my "baby" brother Jason would have turned 30. Quite a bit younger than I am, I know. He was an "oops". And a delightful one at that. As a baby, he had curly red ringlets and often looked like a chubby cherub. But with the red hair came a mischievousness that was anything but angelic.

Jason made us laugh.

And his death made us cry.

Jason Kaye was murdered here in Edmonton, and not a day goes by that I don't think of him. Sometimes I see a kid who reminds me of him. Sometimes I hear about another lost soul whose life was somehow pushed off track. Jason was at one time homeless, living on the street, dumpster-diving for computer parts so he could fix a computer up enough to sell it, and an alcoholic with mental illness. None of us saw the latter until it was too late.

He died on January 23rd, 2006--Edmonton's third homicide of that year. His case is still open. No leads. No answers. No one has come forward as a witness. I am resolved that it will always be this way.

I feel a slight emptiness in my heart when I think of my brother. I think he took a small part with him. But that's okay; he can keep it.

Jason would have turned 30 today, had a huge party with his friends, probably gotten drunk...but he would have had fun.

Tonight I'll light a candle for him, in memory of a brother I truly loved, although I sometimes didn't understand him. But that's okay. I know he forgives me...and I him.

Recently, I was interviewed by CityTV for a segment on Celebrity Chefs. I had fun taping it and making Strawberry Dumplings with my daughter Jessica. This was one of Jason's favorite desserts and we made it in his honor. I'll make some tonight and think of Jason.

And remember him for who he was.

My brother.

Jason only read Whale Song, none of my other novels. And that's why I now donate a percentage of my royalties to 3 Edmonton nonprofits that deal with homelessness, addictions and poverty. I will do this as long as Whale Song is published and available to the public.

Much of our lives growing up was similar to Sarah's in Whale Song. We lived on an isolated island (Jason lived on 3) and grew up with native legends. I invite you to check out Whale Song, buy copies for your family and friends. It makes a wonderful gift for any age between 7 and 108, and I know that my brother would be grateful, as I would be, that your purchase is benefitting his community, his family and friends on the streets of Edmonton.

One thing I have learned: these people, these human beings living in poverty and battling addictions, are somebody's son, father, grandfather, daughter, mother, grandmother, sister...or brother. And they're just as human as the rest of us.

To read about Jason Kaye, please visit his memorial site at http://www.jaysporchmonkeys.com/.

Order Whale Song and help those in need of a friend...a helping hand. We have all needed that at some point in our lives.

Author Cheryl Kaye Tardif helps 3 Non-Profit Organizations

The following article recently appeared on Grow Mercy, a wonderful blog by a wonderful and caring person--Stephen Thomas Berg. Stephen invited me to share how Whale Song, my recent novel about love, lies, sacrifice and transformation, is affecting people's lives.

Begging for Change

First, I’d like to pose a few questions. If you saw a beggar on the sidewalk, hand out for a bit of change, would you scowl, judge him and walk by? Or would you say ‘Sorry, I don’t have any change.” Or would you buy him a coffee and donut? Or would you hand him some money?

I know that these questions pose a moral dilemma for most. The first thing that seems to come to mind is that the beggar will only use the money for nefarious purposes--booze or drugs. And we have an aversion to helping anyone with those addiction problems. We also judge these people. Some of us think, “I worked hard for my money. Why should I give it to him when he can’t be bothered to get a job?” Some of us feel that we should ‘protect them’, buy them food or drink so they don’t spend it on a bottle of rye. Some of us give the money, thinking ‘it’s his choice’.

A while ago I heard two girls in a downtown Wendy’s discussing a man pushing a cart outside. They called him a “bum”, laughed at him, and said he “should get a job”. In their callous naiveté, they thought a job would solve everything for this man. They had no concept of the fact that a person with addictions is physically and mentally unable to keep a job, without a lot of support and therapy. Spurred on by a burst of anger, I stormed outside the Wendy’s with a nearly full container of fries and I asked the man if he wanted them. The light in his eyes was the only answer I needed. Everything he owned was in that shopping cart, with no money for the day’s meal. I talked to him for about 5 minutes, and that man had stories to tell. An avid reader and educated fellow, he once had a job, a family…everything. Then he lost them all. I gave him some money, let him make his own choice for his life.

The opinion of these girls is a common one, and I will admit that even I have had those thoughts, once, about two years ago. Until something happened to change the way I view other people, especially those begging for change. Something that made me want to face those girls and yell, “Don’t laugh at him! That could be your father! Your brother!” But I didn’t. Instead, I went outside and spoke with a man whose life was measured by the belongings in a rusty shopping cart. I’m glad I did. And I owe my actions to my brother Jason.

A number of years ago, I invited my younger brother to come stay with us in Edmonton, Alberta, to look for work and help him get a fresh start. He had been living on Salt Spring Island in BC, and like a typical young person, he’d been getting into some minor trouble. In his early 20s, he moved to Edmonton, and everyone thought his life was just beginning. We never suspected what would happen. Not really.

On January 23rd, 2006, my 28-year-old computer-genius brother with his crazy humor, copper hair and freckled face was brutally murdered. It happened early in the morning in a cold, dark alley not far from the Mustard Seed Church, with no witnesses. I try not to think of his last moments, but it is hard not to imagine him begging for help, or crying for my Mom. Even typing this now is difficult. It’s been over a year since Jason died, yet sometimes it feels like yesterday. I miss him. I miss his laughter, his practical jokes and his generous spirit.

My brother led the life of that man with the cart. He had been homeless for a time, had tried numerous jobs, but his alcohol addiction overwhelmed him. He was on medication, off and on, for depression, and refused to keep in touch with our family. In some ways, he was determined to break free from his lifestyle; in some ways, he wanted us to be separate from it. Even though he lived in the same city, I never knew where he was from one day to the next, and long months would go by with no contact. To be truthful, I was relieved. There is nothing worse than watching someone you love spiral out of control and know that there’s nothing you can do to stop it. His choice, his life.

The morning that the police found Jason was a day like any other for me. I didn’t see the news, and even if I had, they had not released a name. So I went to work, writing in my office like any other day. I was finishing a second version of Whale Song in hopes that it would get picked up by a bigger publisher. And then someone knocked on my door…or the doorbell rang. I don’t remember. When I saw the two men on my doorstep I immediately assumed they were politicians. It was election day. They asked if I was Cheryl Tardif. I said yes. Then they asked me if I had a brother named Jason Kaye. I said yes and let them inside, thinking my brother was in trouble with the law.

It’s funny, that day--funny in a weird dreamlike way. Everyone in my family, including me, had always said that we were expecting a call from the police to say Jason was dead. We had even imagined that he’d end up in an accident, or stagger into a ditch and peacefully fall asleep. We knew he was an alcoholic and we knew he suffered from mental illness. But still, as I sat at my kitchen table with the two detectives, I didn’t really see it coming. Not at first. Not murder.

But someone was watching over me. My brother had left me some ‘gifts’. My husband showed up a minute later. He’d finished work extremely early that day. (Thank you, Jason.) When the detectives told me my brother was dead, that he had been murdered, there was no screaming or crying, no sinking to the floor like I would have imagined. Just a quiet calm that settled over my heart, and a quiet voice in my head that said, “This is the day you knew would come. Jason’s gone.”

The police told me that they had some problems tracking down Jason’s next of kin. After all, my last name is Tardif. I use Kaye, my maiden name, for writing purposes only. They called some Kayes in the area but none of them are related to us. And here was another gift. Jason had told his friends that his sister Cheryl (no last name) was an author in Edmonton who had wrote a book about whales. That’s it. That’s what the police had to go on. They Googled my name--and there I was.

Another gift: three months later, Whale Song was picked up by a bigger publisher and was re-released as a special, revised and expanded edition in April 2007, with a special dedication to my brother Jason. Whale Song is his book now. And as a result, I decided early on that it would benefit others who are struggling with life, addictions and mental illness.

That is why every time you buy a copy of Whale Song, you are helping three organizations: Hope Mission, Mustard Seed Church and the Bissell Centre. 5% of my royalties will go to EACH of these, to help combat poverty, homelessness and addictions. I invite you to order today, spare that bit of change, because I’m begging for it now…on behalf of those in need.

Order Whale Song from Amazon.com

Order Whale Song from Chapters.ca

Thank you again for letting me share my brother Jason with your visitors. For more information on Jason Kaye, please visit his memorial site at http://www.jaysporchmonkeys.com/

I am also begging for change—not money, but change in how we look at others. The next time you see a beggar with his hand out, I hope each of you will think for a moment, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” Spare a little change in how you think, grow mercy…and gain a bit more soul.

~Cheryl Kaye Tardif, author of Whale Song, The River and Divine Intervention

http://www.whalesongbook.com/

http://www.cherylktardif.com/