by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

Every time Francine Chartrand gets home, she conducts a simple ritual that transforms her East End apartment into a safe haven for any child who is lost, abused, bullied or in any other type of need.

She simply pops the familiar orange-on-white Block Parent sign up into her window.

She's been getting needy hands ringing her bell for a decade. "The big days are Halloween, moving day and the back-to-school period," she says. "Usually when the kids knock on the door it's because they're scared of an older person. Or if it's a six- or seven-year-old, it's often because he's scared of a teenager who's doing some sort of taxing. When a child comes to our home, whatever the reason, we either call the police or a parent."

Since it was launched in London, Ontario, in 1967, the Block Parent program has spread overseas to places like Belgium and Australia. Canadian officials boast that 300,000 to 400,000 Canadian homes have the signs. Volunteers must pass a criminal check prior to getting the sign.

The coast-to-coast operation works with almost no budget and has thrived on word-of-mouth since its inception.

But the once-ubiquitous sign has adorned progressively fewer Montreal doors as the group suffers a chronic shortage of organizers and administrators. For example, when a Mirror reporter requested to join, the query went unanswered.

Protection and priorities

Although schools are said to teach the meaning of the signs, English Montreal School Board spokesman Mike Cohen says that no program is in place to sensitize children about the program. Local police report that they have no official association with the movement but will cooperate with the group when requested.

The battle to keep the movement is one familiar to Chateauguay branch organizer Johanne Huneault. "There's a lot less people involved than before," she says. "A lot of people have the mentality that thieves will look at the sign and know that when you take it out of the window it's a clear sign that you're not home. People should think of the kids before you think of that."

For all the young and older people that they help (Block Parents have recently expanded their mandate to include the elderly or other vulnerable people), the only time the movement gets press is when branches close down, as was the case in several communities in Western Canada. In Prince Rupert, B.C., member Tina Last explained to a local reporter, "Kids aren't using them anymore. Parents aren't at home as much and kids aren't walking around like they used to."

But Canada's chief Block Parent says there's no less need for the welcome doors. "Society is more protective of their children but that's even more reason to have the Block Parent poster there," says Linda Patterson, who holds the unpaid national president position. "You want to protect your children but you don't want to scare them to death at the same time. At a certain point you have to let them go. You have to let children be children and you do have to let them play outside. You can't watch them 24 hours a day."

Signs of the times

Patterson says that the biggest complaint from volunteers has to do with a perceived lack of usefulness. "The thing I hear the most is, ‘I've got my sign in the window but nobody comes to my door,' but that's a good thing, it means the program is working." She reports that a child will knock on a Block Parent door about 1,000 times a year in Canada.

The community protection industry isn't static. Groups like Tandem Montreal and neighbourhood policing have risen to help at a street level. A decade back, most local Neighbourhood Watch groups disbanded after municipalities launched public security patrols.

But Patterson admits that the Block Parent troops could use some reinforcement. "We're finding that people don't want to be bothered, or they don't want to be involved in their community like they once did. They don't want to know their neighbours or get involved. I think that's a huge comment on the way society is now."