Customer Reviews

Hope's Boy: A Memoir

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4 star:		(10)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(7)

 

 

I was deeply moved by "Hope's Boy," Andrew Bridge's haunting elegy of a childhood that seemed to be lost forever when the author, at age 7, became a ward of the State after being taken from the arms of his young mother on a street corner in North Hollywood, California. Mr. Bridge's unsparing chronicle of his experiences on the front lines of our nation's foster care system -- including his time in a facility that seemed more like a prison camp, and his rearing by a sadistic foster mother, who herself was a prison camp survivor -- opened my eyes more widely to the system's endemic problems than any piece of investigative journalism on the subject ever could. But, at its core, Mr. Bridge's book is a heartbreaking, unforgettable love story about a mother and her son. Even though Mr. Bridge's mother, Hope, appears intermittently throughout his memoir, I felt her presence, even in her absence, on every single page of his book. I don't know that I've ever read anything more powerful about love and loss than Mr. Bridge's searing prose about his mother's embrace as she struggled to hold onto him when he was being pried from her arms. And ultimately, I was inspired by how Hope's love gave the boy, Andy, the strength to pursue, and, ultimately, achieve his goals. The adult Andrew has given a proud, defiant voice to the boy and his mother. I, for one, am glad to have heard them and hope that many others will too.

This book held my interest to the very last page, but only when I read the epilogue did I shed a few tears of rage.
All the loneliness, the cruelty and chronic absence of nurturing and support in Andrew Bridge's life did not fill me with despair as much as the description of his fight as an adult, and an accomplished lawyer, to fight back against the very system that held him in bondage for his entire adolescence.
As a former court appointed special advocate in Colorado (CASA), and now a legal assistant for a Guardian ad litem specializing in family and juvenile law, I see on a daily basis how crippled and inadequate are our bureacracies in regard to foster care and all the children held in its limbo.
The courts are crowded, there aren't enough good homes, and the cases just keep coming...
I know from firsthand experience that children long for their parents, even when neglect feels like the norm and things at home are substandard.The system too often removes the kids, lets them languish too long in foster placements, and fails to provide appropriate support to the parents. ( An eight week class for meth addiction, or a six week workshop to end a life's cycle of domestic violence, etc.) We put band-aids on these families and heal very few of them. Emancipation at 18 is a frightening step for kids who have never had what the average child needs and has provided for him until the age of 26. Andrew Bridge was a victim of our inadequate system, but survived to become a voice to reckon with. His is a story that should not have happened, but the world is better for his courage and honesty in writing this book.
I will allow Andrew Bridge's words to inform my approach to working with the foster kids in Colorado.I also know now that to mention an absent parent's love and struggles should not be a taboo.It might be the very thing that is missing, regardless of the outcome for a family. Thank you, Andrew Bridge.

"Some families cannot be saved and their children cannot be return. Yet, even then, their love for each other must be worth something."
-- Andrew Bridge, Hope's Boy

This is a brave memoir about our nation's horribly broken foster care system, that all too often fails our children and families who are in most need and who are most vulnerable. With a steady and elegant voice, Bridge describes a mother who loved him desperately, and in the end, did more than most would ever ask of themselves, all the while savaged by mental illness. With tenderness, he describes how love can exist alongside failure and how a mother can ultimately "love a child more than she can care for him." The story is profoundly inspirational, told without a trace of bitterness - and clearly required tremendous courage to write.

Bridge went on to Wesleyan University, graduated from Harvard Law School, then devoted his life to the children he remembered -- children with broken lives who still wait for something far better than we give them.

An excellent read - an important one, too.

Andy Bridge's likeable childhood photo peers out from his bookjacket, but his eyes betray his face. Just slightly though. He has been trained to smile for the camera. It's a heartbreaking photograph and it drew me to the rack upon which the book sat. I know that look. Eager to please, yet mindful of the consequence of caring.

Like a scene from a macabre Tennessee Williams play, Andy is ripped from his over-the-edge mother when she has one too many public meltdowns. "Hope's Boy" is whisked away from the scene. And like one of Williams' characters, from now on Andy's survival will depend upon the kindness of strangers.

That's what kids learn when the bottom falls out. Some folks will like you, but most won't.

Kids remember all the stings. And some of the encouragement. You learn to become an actor, to do what you're told, You've been broken young, by people who aren't your parents. It's just easier to go along to get along.

In his probing memoir, Andy Bridges shows us in graphic detail exactly how good an actor he can be. And it is to his credit, as this quality keeps him tied to one family, the Leonards, for most of his remaining childhood.

He learns that Mrs. Leonard, a Nazi survivor, has mood swings and he needs to stay out of her way. He overhears her gossiping with neighbors about his plight and those of the other foster children that pass through the Leonard's household. He sees there's a revolving door. There's no security here. But he promises to do better.

Bridges' writing is candid, honest, self-effacing . . . and ultimately surprising.

The touchstone of the story is young Jason, another foster child. This child's transformation in the household is portrayed in such a heartbreaking fashion that I found myself having to put the book down at times. It is obvious that the boy had a tremendous effect on Andy. His book is a tribute to Jason.

I say the book is ultimately suprising because I didn't see the personal transformation Andy went through coming. I have seen this in other memoirs. The subject doesn't want to seem to be bragging perhaps. (Or could the security of his foster home have had something to do with it?) But all of a sudden this timid, introverted outcast is running for school body president, getting a scholarship to Wesleyan, wait! Now he's a champion debater.

When did all this happen?

Well, I'm glad it did, because Andrew Bridge, great name by the way, has become a "bridge" to other kids who, through no fault of their own, are cast into a bureaucratic system that strips them of their remaining dignity at just the moment they're most vulnerable. He bookends his memoir with an example of how he has put what he learned as an adult into action.

I know a couple of people who were in the foster system in Los Angeles in the '70's. I've heard horror stories of all kinds of abuse. Bridge relates some of the tragedies pertaining to the arrival of another child into the Leonard household. What happens to the little girl in the body cast -- she is brought into the Leonard's home after being raped and attacked with a baseball bat -- is truly horrifying and you begin to wonder about the balance. The mythology surrounding the evil foster mother is second only to that of the wicked stepmother.

Bridge doesn't exactly give the parents of these battered and abandoned children a free ride but he does reserve his greatest scorn for the "system." And for the Leonards.

Although we don't get a very clear picture of the Leonard children, it seems that Andy has drawn away, realizing that he's just a paycheck to these people and they get to tell him what to do. He seems perplexed at the end why he even bothers to visit them anymore at the holidays and then he stops going.

I found myself perplexed that Grandma Kate didn't swoop back in to rescue Andy, or that she even allowed him to slip from her grasp in the first place. He mentions this in passing later in the book and blames it on the cycle of poverty. He also notes that his mother herself spent some time in foster care when she was young.

The tragedy of course is that it wasn't his mother's fault. They love each other. Bridge lays out why they had to be separated. He's very clear. He tries to cover as much as he can, praying she won't be taken away from him, even as her condition worsens.

I wish Andrew Bridge all the best in life. And he has my gratitude for being such an articulate spokesman for the cause of child welfare.

Hope's son is a beautifully written deeply moving true story that violates conventional wisdom about what is in a child's best interest and affirms the redemptive power of education. Hope loves her son and wants to raise him herself; however, poverty and mental instability undermine her ability to do so. Andrew Bridge, her son, was removed from his mother and placed in the foster care--a system that neither provided more opportunity nor a better life. The intact family he was eventually placed with was in no way an adequate substitute for his mother. Andrew is one of the lucky ones. Academic achievement led to scholarships for college and law school, giving him the skills to fight for foster children and to challenge assumptions about where society's resources are best used--to build a better foster care system or to help parents raise their children. This is a book that speaks both to your emotions and your intellect and does so with passion, wit and first hand experience.

I was lucky enough to read an early version of this book, and it's stuck with me for all the months since then. Told with unflagging honesty, and about a life that's riveting and fascinating.

Andrew Bridge is a survivor. So many children who found themselves placed into Los Angeles County's MacLaren Hall 'for their own protection' grew up to become troubled adults. MacLaren Hall's intent was good, to provide a safe haven for abused and dependent children who were taken away from their homes for their own protection. Unfortunately, the lines are often blurred in the Los Angeles County child welfare system, and truly bad kids, some of them with violent criminal histories, are mixed in with innocent victims like Andrew Bridge.

MacLaren Hall is now closed, and that part of Hope's Boy is only a small portion of this moving and emotional true-life story. Without revealing the heart of the story, in a way Andrew was lucky, because the safety net today has far more holes than it did back when he was a child caught up in the system.

As deplorable as Andrew's childhod experience was, it's even worse today for children who are taken away from their parents. The eventual closing of MacLaren Hall didn't change the situation for Los Angeles' dependent children. Today a social worker would work more diligently to keep the Bridge family together, because a mentally ill mother is often a better choice than the disinterested foster parent who is only in it for the money. It's also a numbers game. There aren't enough beds in group homes or private foster homes within Los Angeles County to provide for the needs of dependent kids after they're taken away from their parents.

This beautifully written memoir touched me and inspired me. "I'll come back for you, Andy. I promise. I'll come back." That's what Andy's mom promised him when at the age of 4 he was sent to live with his grandmother when his mother was sent to prison. Andy's mom kept her promise. After her release from prison, Andy's mother Hope came back to her then 5 year old son. For the next two years, Hope loved Andy and did her best to care for Andy with very little money, living here and there in seedy Los Angeles neighborhoods until due to her ever-increasing mental illness she could no longer care for him. When Andy was 7, Hope was taken by the authorities and institutionalized, and Andy was thrown into the nightmare of the LA foster care system.

And yet as horrible as Andy's childhood was, Hope's coming back as promised made Andy whole and strong. Empowered, propelled and inspired by his mother's love and devotion, Andrew Bridge was able to persevere through a lonely and harsh childhood in foster care and was able to excel at Harvard Law School and enjoy a successful legal career that he was compelled to leave to devote his time and energy to improving the foster care system, which he did by becoming a leading advocate for children's rights and writing this memoir. This book inspired me to do better as a child and as a mother.

As a mother and a retired teacher, "Hope's Boy" was an emotional experience for me. It reminded me that children choose what is important to them. Mr. Bridge's memoir convinced me that a child brings with them his/her own needs that a bed in a stranger's house leave unsatisfied. I think that anyone who lives with, or works with, children should read this well-written book. It is disturbing that one little boy had this childhood. More disturbing is the fact that there are many children who have lived this life, are living this life, or will live this life if the foster system isn't re-evaluated.

I was delighted to read Hope's Boy. It reminds me why I'm a social worker. Connections with others, and the need for them, are at our core. They are powerful and enduring, as is the sense of loss when they are broken. In Bridge's case, social workers and the foster care system broke his physical connections to his mother and grandmother. As social workers, our role is to support, honor and do everything we can to sustain the core bond between parent and child. We failed to do that for Bridge. Despite our failures, Bridge held close his memories of Hope, developing his own extraordinary capacity for resilience. He lends a powerful voice to so many foster children who have learned to "be still," who continue to long for their own enduring bond with a forever parent. We can and must do better for them. I try to do that each day, for every youngster and family with whom I work. And I'm trying to teach that to the next generation of social workers, as well, who face a whole new set of challenges to keep children safe while they support and sustain the forever bonds they have with their parents. Thanks again for a wonderful reminder of our responsibility to nurture resilience and hope in all children.