Sober homes are a suburban reality
Neighbors aware of drug-related issues, but cleave to community
“It’s definitely right down the street, I mean, you know, or across the park.” Bryan Hall, 47, who lives in the sober home behind him, is a former crack user and dealer who has been sober for 10 months
In the past 21⁄ years, nearly 2 50 people have overdosed within a quarter-mile of the park where John Hulsman plays baseball with his son.
Hulsman lives in one of the many neighborhoods where people are overdosing in Delray Beach amid the opioid epidemic in South Florida.
Neighbors in Osceola Park say they have a love and appreciation for the community, even though it has seen problems related to addiction. Between January 2015 and this April, there were 47 overdoses within a quarter-mile radius of Currie Commons Park, in the same area where 18 sober homes are situated, city records show.
Hulsman knows drug deals and overdoses happen in his community, but it doesn’t deter him from venturing to the park with his family.
In the simmering heat of a summer afternoon, Hulsman popped a fly ball Wednesday
over the pitcher’s mound. It soared high above the baseball diamond, past the tufts of grass sprouting in the red dirt, over his10-year-old son and into his wife’s glove.
He said he doesn’t see serious crimes, or “the real bad stuff.” But he’s not oblivious to what happens, he said, gesturing toward the bathrooms at the park, 702 SE Second Ave. “We see what they are doing over there,” he says.
Behind the park bathrooms, next to the train tracks, small plastic baggies are strewn against the chain-link fence and under the bushes. More than a half-dozen of the bags, often used for drugs, litter the park— even on the playground.
In the early afternoon, a pair of police cars park in the row of spaces adjacent to the homes. Neighbors say the police park there often — a visual deterrent to dealers and their customers.
Delray Police Chief Jeff Goldman said that in the past, the park had issues with drugs and loitering, but he couldn’t recall the last time he’d heard about it. “It’s a park like any other,” he said, adding that there can be more issues at night.
A trio of sober homes sits across the street on the north end of the park. The lawns are lush; the hedges, trimmed. A mismatched collection of chairs is arrayed outside the front window of one home, painted a Creamsicle orange.
Bryan Hall, 47, who moved from Indiana to Delray Beach for treatment, lives in one of the sober homes across fromthe park. He said he has noticed more suspicious activity. He sees people in the grip of addiction, circling the block while on their phones, waiting for a fix.
And Hall should know: He said he used and sold crack cocaine for 24 years and is now 10 months sober. But the neighborhood is not violent, Hall said. There aren’t shootouts or drug dealers hanging out on corners, he said.
“The temptation is definitely here. But if you have given up that life, it’s just the choices you make,” he said. “If you make that choice to go that route, it’s definitely right down the street, I mean, you know, or across the park.”
Despite all that, Hall said it’s a good neighborhood. He lives in a sober home run by Royal Recovery Resources, which, records show, is one of the homes the program runs on the block.
For Hall, there’s no place he’d rather be. “I love it here,” he said. “I love the house I live in. I love the program that I am in. They’ve helped me change my life. I owe them everything.”
That’s how recovery is in Delray Beach, Hall said. There is a recovery meeting any time of the day every day of the week, a strong support group and a plethora of options for recovery, he said. But the temptation is there, too, he said. Some fall off the wagon.
Citywide, overdoses spiked from 2015 to 2016, rising from 195 to 690. Through the first half of this year, police have recorded more than 400 overdoses, with 37 people dying.
“My sponsor said one thing about recovery is you have to step over a lot of bodies,” Hall said.
Jeffrey Lynne, an attorney with clients in the recovery industry, including Royal Recovery, said just because a neighborhood has sober homes doesn’t mean they cause problems.
He said more research should be done to prove whether an over-concentration of sober homes is bad for those in recovery and the community.
“If you didn’t have people in the area drug dealing, then you wouldn’t have overdoses to that extent,” he said.
Benita Goldstein has bought multiple homes in Osceola Park over the years, including a property she knew once was a sober home. Upon buying it, she chose to rent it to people who weren’t in the recovery industry, she said.
“When a neighborhood is getting overdosed with sober homes, I think it takes away from the quality,” Goldstein said. “Believe me, it needed a lot of work after [the previous residents] got through with it.”
Some families know what goes on, but say it is on the fringes of their lives.
Chris Cole, 33, lives beside the three sober homes across from the park. He said his home also was a recovery residence before he moved in last year. Cole said he knows there is some drug activity in the neighborhood, but loves the area nonetheless.
Cole also gets along well with his neighbors in recovery. One of them, an air conditioning technician, even came over to take a look at a problem Cole was having. “They’re great,” he said.
Hulsman and his wife, Vicki, take their 10-year-old son, Johnny, to play catch and practice his swing at the park once or twice aweek in the summertime. “I feel very safe coming here,” Johnny said.
Hulsman, in turn, said, “There could be worse problems.”