Random Access

Robert Hubert has found his own unique way of protesting the work stoppage at Community Living Mississauga that has interfered with one of the real pleasures he gets out of life.
He's letting his frustrations pile up, in a manner of speaking. You see, Robert, 43, has an intellectual handicap. He's one of many adults who work in local grocery stores, taking loose grocery buggies and putting them back in the fenced corrals where they belong.
But a funny thing has happened since Robert's worker at Community Living Mississauga went on strike April 10.
Instead of collecting the buggies and putting them back where they belong, Robert has started placing them in front of the entrance to the grocery store at the Credit Landing plaza in Port Credit. His mother isn't positive Robert's actions are deliberate but she does know that he's upset.
"He does not understand about strikes," says Robert's mother Marie. "He feels abandoned."
If he doesn't stop his one-man protest his mother is worried he will be suspended, something else he won't understand. Then he'll be at home for another 25 hours a week with precious little to do.
Marie and numerous other parents across the city are coming to their wit's end as they come to grips with the fact that the CLM strike, now three weeks old, has no apparent end in sight.
If the effect on Robert not seeing his support worker has been so profound, Marie Hubert wonders what it's like for more severely disabled adults who have been forced to bunk in together in group homes under the supervision of managers and replacement workers they don't know.
"They're not used to strangers. They're used to seeing the same people on a regular basis. It must be horrifying and scary for them," says Hubert.
The change of routine during the strike and the lack of activities for her son is undoing a lot of good progress he was making, says Mary Bruyea of Erin Mills. Her 25-year-old son Matthew has autism and is epileptic. He may not be able to express it but he really enjoys going to the "base site" at Britannia, where the adult CLM clients gather regularly to socialize, see their friends and take part in recreation. "He can't say it but I know it's a vital part of his life," his mother says.
"It's just very, very difficult," said Bruyea, because there's only so many drives and so many walks she can take in a day to keep Matthew alert. "He just lies on the couch all day. He sleeps a lot more and it's when he sleeps that he has his seizures."
The most frustrating thing is that CLM and Local 251 of the Ontario Public Service Employees' Union aren't even talking about resuming talking.
"They're not really considering their clients, as far as I'm concerned," said Bruyea.
Sylvie Gauthier, 40, normally has a steady five-day workday routine that includes helping out with reading in primary school classrooms two days a week, going to the CLM Palstan drop-in program and working at a local grocery store.
"She has an outing every day and those are the highlights of her week," said her sister Marie, with whom Sylvie lives. "It's difficult at the best of times for a person with a disability to accept change and now, all of a sudden, all of her services are gone."
Like the other families, Gauthier doesn't want to point fingers at the union or management. She just wants the dispute settled.
"Somebody's got to make the first move," she said. "People with disabilities have been abandoned."
Marina Noronha can already see that her 28-year-old son Jason has regressed.
"Emotionally it's hurting and it's placed tremendous stress on the family," said Noronha. Instead of being at the Palstan centre for 35 hours a week, Jason sits at home and watches television.
"He has his pals there and all his activities, like swimming. Now he just listlessly watches TV."
In a letter of protest, Manisha Mohan said this week, "the entire reason that these individuals require special support is that
their understanding of greater issues and circumstances is limited. It has caused great duress and upset to these vulnerable people. They do not understand why their staff is gone, why their programs have stopped, why their lives have been turned upside down.
"These workers are unlike others where the consequence of them not working is that a production line has ceased or class work has been delayed. They are providing with the means for people to survive and live there lives which are already difficult. Many parents and families have been left in distress, as programs they rely heavily on to care for their family member with special needs, are now gone. The cessation of this work is analogous to that of medical staff going on strike."
Except that patients can usually speak out about their plight.