A MASON'S FOUNDATION: RECOVERY IS A LONG TRIP

Xavier Mendoza was setting cinder blocks in place one day when he looked up
and had a revelation.

It dawned on the 34-year-old mason from Reading that the juvenile center
addition he was building sits in the shadow of the imposing walls of the
Northampton County Prison.

Mendoza may live in Berks County, but he's got a special connection with
Northampton County.

This is where he got clean from cocaine. And this is where he counseled
other people to join him in being drug free, right at the prison on the
hill above him.

Mendoza blames peer pressure for his decision to try smoking pot when he
was 13. He moved to cocaine at 15, and started going "downhill" by 18.

He helped bring drugs from New York City to Hudson County, N.J. He had to
support his habit.

"I'd steal where I could," Mendoza said. He said he used $150 to $200 worth
of cocaine a day. The former high school football fullback and tackle
weighed 143 pounds at the peak of his addiction, which is more than 100
pounds less than the strapping bricklayer's current weight.

A few prison stays convinced Mendoza to get serious about getting clean and
on Aug. 28, 1989, he moved to Hogar Crea rehabilitation facility in Bethlehem.

"It's like my new date of birth," Mendoza said.

He's pleased his father saw his son's life get turned around before he died
in May. No amount of reform can make up for what he put his family through,
Mendoza admits.

The best he can do is to counsel prisoners and addicts about the dangers of
drug use. He does it regularly in different states. He plans, while
vacationing this December in the Dominican Republic, to talk to addicts there.

Laying block in the shadow of the prison for six weeks this summer brought
back memories of the early days of his recovery, when he counseled at
Northampton County Prison. It wasn't easy, and he wasn't sure he was making
a difference.

"In there, these inmates, they know the song a lot of people want to hear
so they sing it," Mendoza said.

He still counsels because it helps him reaffirm his beliefs that the life
of a drug user usually ends in one of three ways: death, prison or
recovery. Even if only a small percentage of addicts take what he says to
heart, it's worth the effort in Mendoza's mind.

Life is a lot different for the husband and father of a 2-year-old than it
was for the man just trying to turn his life around more than 10 years ago.

"I went to see the Phillies on Sunday (July 22) instead of going on
Saturday night and getting drunk and feeling awful on Sunday," Mendoza
said. "I went to sleep Saturday, instead of being at a club and getting
drunk and worrying about being shot at. Then I went to church on Sunday
morning."

Laying blocks may be a lot less lucrative or glamorous than being a dope
peddler, but there's a much smaller chance of a mason being shot at by a
rival gang.

"An honest living is a hard living," Mendoza said. Drug dealers "feel, they
believe in power, money, women. (The drug culture) is far from that. The
humbler you are, the further you're going to get."