His past fuels work for foster children’s future
Earnest Jones greeted each child with a handshake and a smile. The tall, suited man watched as the kids sat at long tables draped with white linen.
Their eyes widened at the cutlery, fine china and crystalclear glasses set before them.
The foster children had arrived at Ruth’s Chris Steak House dressed in their best frills and finery. The occasion — the 16th annual Thanksgiving dinner hosted for children from Roy Maas Youth Alternatives, which provides emergency care for children 5 to 17.
Jones, a Roy Maas board member, knew how the children felt, what it meant to enjoy a dinner held in their honor.
Fifteen years ago, after a family incident, San Antonio police officers took him to the Roy Maas emergency shelter. When Jones transitioned to the Meadowland site, a residential facility, he attended a holiday event where he met the steakhouse’s owner, Lana Duke. He took a photo with her that Jones still treasures.
Duke’s words of encouragement have stayed with him — dream big and believe that anything is possible.
“What I took from that was my past doesn’t have to be my future,” Jones, 31, said. “She set the bar for a lot of us for us to aspire to do (good) for our families and others as well.”
The Thanksgiving dinner, his stay with Roy Maas and a foster family helped Jones overcome the strife in his life.
“It was something I had to do,” Jones said, “to survive and move forward.”
He doesn’t dwell on the alternative option of staying in a mindset of victimhood and being mad at the world. His focus is on providing a better life for his wife, Laura, and three sons, Easton, 4, Ellis, 2, and Evander, 6 weeks old.
Jones’ current reality is far from growing up in New Orleans in the St. Bernard Housing Projects. The oldest of three children, he found hope worshipping in church. Prayer was his therapy, a way to deal with domestic violence and addiction in his home.
Prayer also became a lifeline for the approaching storm. On Aug. 29, 2005, Jones scrambled to survive the destruction of Hurricane Katrina. Separated from his family, he sheltered in an apartment with a man he worked with and other neighbors. The winds of the Category 5 hurricane howled, and torrents of rain swept the Crescent City for what seemed like an eternity.
As the water rose, he climbed through a hole in the ceiling two men had broken through to the roof. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered above with first responders dangling rescue harnesses to the 15-year-old and others.
Once on board, he stared at the churning, fetid waters 60 feet below. The aircraft flew over people screaming for help on rooftops. Bodies floated in water that topped stop signs. New Orleans East, the world he knew, faded into the distance. They landed at the Louisiana Superdome, where he searched for his family.
He walked the arena off and on for a week. Gunshots rang out through the corridors. There were corpses covered with blankets and sheets. He avoided areas where acts of violence broke out each day.
“It was like Dante’s Inferno,” Jones said. “Like the lower levels of hell.”
His journey to San Antonio began with a Greyhound bus that stopped at an Air Force base in Oklahoma. From there, he hitched a ride to Baton Rouge, where he found shelter at a church.
Then, one day, a youth pastor showed him a picture on a computer screen. It was a photo of his mother at Port San Antonio, formerly Kelly Air Force Base. She held a sign that said, “Hey Earnest, I love you, I miss you!”
With a plane ticket from the Federal Emergency Management Agency, Jones took a plane to San Antonio and was reunited with his family. But he found their troubled past had trailed them to Texas. After an altercation with his father, Jones found himself without a home. He recalled his mother said she couldn’t care for him and called the police.
When officers arrived, they told Jones to grab what clothes that he could — they had a solution to his dilemma.
“I’ll take you to The Bridge,” he recalled an officer said.
When the police brought him to the shelter, he held all his worldly possessions in a bag, his black hoodie shrouding his face. He was there for 90 days.
Jones moved on to Meadowland, a long-term residential care campus where he was reunited with his siblings Ervin Smith and Erica Jones. After Pam and Joe Connolly read a story about the siblings’ experience in the Boerne Star, they reached out to Roy Maas — the couple wanted to foster the trio.
Jones’ foster parents stressed education, provided resources and tutors and prepared them for college. Jones was the first in his family to graduate from college at Sul Ross State University in Alpine. He now has a master’s degree in business and administration.
“They helped me expand my mind and think beyond my little box,” Jones said.
The Connollys also took the teens on trips to Wyoming, Colorado and New Orleans, their home before Katrina. They walked through their old neighborhood and saw the projects, where they once lived, were demolished.
“It was scary because of the trauma,” Jones said. “It wasn’t the same.”
Nor was his relationship with his parents. Duke taught him forgiveness is something that foster kids need not only for others, but themselves.
“For me, through forgiveness, you find peace,” Jones said. “I was able to understand what love means.”
Jones forgave his mother and father, who attended his high school graduation. Four years ago, his father died from a heart attack. He’s still in contact with his mother.
At the dinner, Jones reunited with Duke. She recalled telling youths when they turn 18, they’re in charge of their lives. Duke also lets them know she understands — she was once a foster child. She said everything their group does is worthwhile when they see someone like Jones “soar like an eagle.”
“He is a special young man,” Duke said. “He had a great attitude. He thinks the best (rather) than the worst of people, which is hard for a child to do when a child has gone through what he has.”