PARENTS OF TEEN METH ADDICT FIND WAY TO HELP OTHER PEOPLE'S KIDS

EDMONTON -- On Saturday afternoon, Gord and Karin Daniher wedge trays of
leftovers into the graffiti-covered fridge in the basement of a downtown
drop-in centre. On Sunday afternoon, a dozen street kids will come for dinner.

The scene is repeated six days a week.

The kids will heat stew in the gummy microwave, or pick an egg out of a
spinach salad and eat it.

They may nibble pasta if they are high. They binge if they are crashing.

The Danihers know, because the grungy basement of the downtown ihuman Youth
Society is where their teenage daughter once ate her meals.

"We realized our daughter was just a tip of the iceberg," Gord says.

The Danihers started the White Elephant Connection two years ago when their
troubled 15-year-old daughter disappeared after scoring a hit of crystal
methamphetamine. Frantic, the Danihers went searching and found her at a
downtown outreach centre.

"We asked what we could do, and we were told we were powerless, that the
Devil would have her away," Gord says.

"We said no. We would do what we could, regardless of the circumstances. We
determined we would go down and give (the kids) what they needed most."

What they needed most was food.

"The meth or the other drugs, the stuff rips the vitamins right out of
you," Gord says.

Like many of the kids the Danihers feed, their daughter was hooked on meth
- -- cheap, highly addictive and easy to find.

She ran away from home again and again, took video-game equipment from her
little brother and dropped out of treatment programs.

Today, Karin beams and gives a thumbs-up when she says her daughter, now
17, is off the streets, at least for now.

There are no lockup treatment programs for drug-addicted teens in Alberta.
All too often they quit only when the cravings hit.

"These are the ones in the gap," Gord says. "Their needs are just beyond
belief. We are totally inadequate to even begin to meet some of them."

But six days a week, the couple throw together what they can.

On Saturdays they pack leftovers from Sunterra Market into their dented old
blue Dodge minivan and take the food to the society, at 10515 101st St. The
next day they use it to make stew.

Once a week a local cook makes a meal and drops it off. The rest of the
time the Danihers prepare what they can, using cheap cuts of meat and bags
of pasta.

Sometimes they get a bit of money from members of their church. There have
been a few private donations, but generally they pay for supplies out of
their own pockets.

Gord is a labourer -- "$10-an-hour stuff" -- and Karin a teacher's assistant.

The kids call them the food people. Sometimes the Danihers drop off a meal
or two at an apartment, or invite a youth to go grocery shopping.

When things get rough, Gord gives out cookies. While they help about a
dozen young people at a time, the number can be as high as 30 a day.

The couple continues because they like to know they're helping the kids who
need it most. And they know their daughter may be back on the streets one
day: meth addiction is tough to beat.

"We didn't have a Sweet 16 (party) because our daughter was in a rehab
centre ... she should be graduating (high school) this year, but won't,"
Gord says.

"There is a sense of grief, a sense of loss ... but we trust that there is
hope, even in very dark places."