Dr.
Dan and the kids at Christie Lake
Psychiatrist
Dan Offord tells David Stonehouse why he's returned for
a
43rd season to the camp for children near Perth. Camp
director Dan Offord listened in stunned silence as he walked
the
lakeshore with his young charge. The lad had been kicked
out of his
first foster home years ago. He was shuttled to a second
home, but he
soon wasn't welcome there either. Foster care officials found
him a
third place, then a forth.
The
child psychiatrist in Dr. Offord knew this boy was blaming
himself
for the revolving door he seemed to be trapped in.
"How do you live?" Dr.
Offord asked.
"I
just take it one day at a time."
It
is heart-wrenching moments like this one two summers ago
that can
move Dan Offord to tears: the stories of children abused,
the
revelations of long-harboured feelings of being unwanted
and worthless.
Perhaps
it is confronting the harsh realities of life that keeps
him
going back to Christie Lake Camp near Perth year after year.
Certainly,
it is a deep-seated interest in troubled children that is
not just a
professional curiosity but a personal passion.
The
65-year-old renowned psychiatrist from McMaster University
in
Hamilton is now in his 43rd season as director of the retreat
for poor
and troubled youth.
There,
he is away from lofty psychiatric theory and stuffy academia.
There, he sees pre-teen turmoil first-hand. And, there --
where the
campers and counsellors know little of his impressive professional
credentials -- he is simply the folksy jowly-faced fella
they call Dr.
Dan.
"It's
very different from academic life. Most academics, I mean,
what
the hell would they be doing in a camp for the summer? It's
nuts. But
this is an interesting life -- it's a little unusual. It
suits me," he
says, flashing a smile as he sits in an armchair in the living
room of
his Ottawa home.
"I
like the people very much at camp -- love the kids. I've
enjoyed it
very much. It's enriched my life."
Nursing
a lifelong affinity for the plight of the underdog, Dr.
Offord
has not only distinguished himself in North America for his
research in
child psychiatry but has dedicated himself to the improving
the lives of
the hundreds of children who have streamed through Christie
Lake.
The
mission at the camp is to embrace poor children between
the ages of
nine and 14 and nurture them with authority. It builds their
self-esteem
through sports like swimming, teaches them skills like canoeing
so they
will learn how to work with others, and huddles them around
a campfire
so they will discover community and camaraderie. It brings
in speakers
to inform and inspire.
The
90-acre retreat was created in 1922 by Judge John F. McKinley,
who
wanted a place to nurture juvenile boys. It remained Christie
Lake Camp
for Boys until 1991, when the board of directors relented
to ounting
pressure and first admitted girls.
It
takes in 120 youth each summer, and employs up to 80 teens
and young
adults as counsellors. Staff loyalty is high -- many return
year after
year. The pay is meagre, though older staff can earn scholarships
to
university.
Tom
Pritchard took his adopted son there a few years back.
It reaffirmed
his strongly-held belief in the camp and its worth and bolstered
the
spirits of his troubled son.
"It
was probably the best six weeks of his life. He had a tremendous
traumatic childhood and stuff -- that's a longer story," Mr.
Pritchard
says. "He thrived up there."
Mr.
Pritchard went to the camp as a youngster and unhesitatingly
sings
its praises. The 41-year-old British Columbia social worker
calls it" the most profound influence of my personal
and professional development.
"It's
because of the tremendous mentorship that occurred there,
certainly under the leadership of Dan Offord but also with
the number of
high-quality older peers or adults who were working there
at the time," he says over the phone from his office at the B.C. Ministry
of Children
and Families.
"You
wouldn't believe the number of people who moved from Christie
Lake
and went into the helping profession -- whether it was teaching,
childcare work or as nurses or doctors -- all kinds of people
like
that."
One
of 15 children from a blended family, Tom Pritchard went
to the camp
for two years in the early 1970s before returning to work
as a
counsellor. He worked there for a dozen more summers.
At
the end, Dr. Offord took him out to dinner and asked him
what he
planned for the future. When he confessed to having no real
plans, Dr.
Offord insisted he go to university.
"He recognizes the potential in people," says
Mr. Pritchard, who went on
to become a mental-health therapist for youth. "He's
always recognized
the potential in someone, rather than the problems. He seems
to have
that kind of leadership ability to draw that out of people,
and yet he
is a down-to-earth kinda guy.
"The
other thing is, he's tremendously passionate and compassionate
about things. He has a high kind of ethical and moral standard
that is
unwavering," he says.
"I
didn't know until later in my professional life how well-
respected
he is as an academic person as well as a researcher. He never
beat the
drum about his big-wig psychiatry background because his
love was the
camp," Mr. Pritchard says. "I'm just surprised
he hasn't got the Order
of Canada, to be honest with you."
For
his psychiatric work, Dr. Offord has won 10 awards or honours
from
associations or universities in the United States and Canada.
He has
lectured and consulted throughout North America and, in 1994,
was
co-chairman of the Premier's Council on Health, Well-Being
and Social
Justice in Ontario.
Nearly
10 years ago, he was named director of the new Centre for
Studies
of Children at Risk at McMaster which researches emotional
and
behavioral problems in children.
Another
fan is former National Capital Commission chairman Jean
Pigott,
a former MP and political adviser to two prime ministers.
"He's one of the most remarkable men I have ever met," says
Mrs. Pigott,
75, who fell victim to his persuasiveness nine years ago
when she agreed
to come on board as founding chairwoman of his Centre for
Studies of
Children at Risk.
She lauds his work both at the centre and Christie Lake.
"The
lessons he learns from those kids from Christie Lake camp,
he takes
back to teach the people at McMaster. He always seems to
be fed by what
happens at the camp, the direct contact with the kids," she
says."That's
his workshop. It recharges his batteries."
She
enthuses about how he uses swimming and canoeing to build
the
confidence and self-esteem of his campers, then adds: "I
don't think he
is a softie, you know. I think he can be quite a disciplinarian.
He can
say `That's nonsense -- c'mon!' But that's what kids want,
too, you
know."
David
Robert Dan Offord was born in Ottawa on Nov. 13, 1933,
and lived a
middle-class existence as the only surviving child of a chemist
and
secretary -- an older sister had died of a rare disease before
he was
born.
His
mother taught him the unfairness of life, openly talking
with her
son about inequities of the world. He remembers the first
time he
witnessed racism at work.
"I
remember once we were on vacation and stopped in a motel
at the same
time as a black family that tried to get a room, but couldn't.
She was
shocked and wrote to the paper," he says."I was
always scared as a kid
that all the big problems would be solved before I grew up.
It was a
huge thing inside of me. I wished I could grow up faster
because these
were exciting things to try to do something about," he
says."It was
burning inside of me."
That
passion led him to medical school at Queen's University
in
Kingston. And it was in the middle of that, in 1956, when
a friend asked
him if he would come to Christie Lake to be program director
for the
summer.
The
22-year-old arrived with fond memories of his days as a
camp
counsellor at YMCA and disabled children's camps. He was
astounded at
the chaos that confronted him.
"It
was unbelievable. I couldn't get the kids to do anything.
It was a
different world. Nice kids, you know, but not civilized," he
recalls
now. "There were fights. They never shut up -- couldn't
get them to shut
up around the campfire."
But
instead of fleeing, he found himself fascinated: Could
he ever get
these troublemakers under control?
That
year, he had to choose what kind of doctor he wanted to
be and
found himself wanting to help children. He chose pediatrics
but spent
most of his two months at a children's hospital watching
youngsters die
of leukemia.
He decided to pursue child psychiatry instead.
He
worked first in the United States, teaching at universities
in
Florida and Pennsylvania in the 1960s. Married with a young
family, he
decided he wanted his children to grow up in Canada and took
a job with
the Royal Ottawa Hospital in 1972. But, dissatisfied with
the management
at that time, he left there and joined McMaster in 1978.
Every
summer, though, since being hired as camp director in 1958,
he
would spend at Christie Lake.
He
no longer feels the panic he had as a child, afraid that
all the
world's inequities will be will be fixed before he can become
involved.
"It's not like you solve them forever," he
says, then pulls the camp
into an analogy.
"Christie
Lake, in a sense, is stable -- kids come back and staff
come
back, but it's fragile too. It can fall apart," he
says.
"On
the human front, every generation has to re-establish again
the
values that are important," he says. "I'm thinking
of ways to help the
next generation.
"In
terms of my academic work, I want to bring in young people
and train
them better than I was trained. And at camp I'm very interested
in
opening pathways for children, or to help them."
And
there is no sign he is anywhere near ready to retire. He's
newly
married -- his first wife died after being hit by a car in
1992 -- and
back living in Ottawa. He keeps an apartment in Hamilton
and has
convinced the university to keep him on past retirement age.
"As
long as my health holds up, I want to keep going. Temperamentally
(retirement) isn't for me. All the data suggests too that
the best way
is to insure your health is to do something you feel good
about. And I
enjoy my work -- I enjoy the challenges and I enjoy the people
I work
with."
© 2004
David Stonehouse. For permissions to reprint, please e-mail info@davidstonehouse.com |