Foster Dad

Gary Strong wasn’t sure he would ever marry and have children. That was three decades, 17 kids and 22 years of marriage ago.

The Post Falls man’s foray into fatherhood began with a series of 13 teenage foster sons, back in 1980 when he was a thirty-something bachelor, working and living in Missouri.

At the time, Strong, now 65, was vice president of the Federal Reserve in St. Louis.

He became a foster dad after tutoring and mentoring children at Boys Hope, a home for youth in need.

“I had thrown everything into my career,” Strong said. “Working with the boys, I realized how much I had missed as an adult without children. That was a real eye-opener.”

At Boys Hope, the successful single banker saw kids with no resources, little direction, no way to get “out of the system,” or even take a break from it for a weekend or holiday.

“I thought, if you’re going to complain about something, you should look at what you can do to change it,” Strong said.

So he bought a “gigantic, old Victorian” in St. Louis, refurbished it, and it became home, at different times, to 13 foster boys.

Then he fell in love. When Strong married wife Peggy in 1987, she moved in with her new husband and four foster sons.

“I always knew I wanted to be a mom,” Peggy said.

After the foster boys moved on, the couple had two sons of their own, Morgan, now 20, and Colin, a senior at Coeur d’Alene High School.

When their own boys were younger, the Strongs welcomed two pregnant teenage girls into their home. Placed by LDS social services, the girls lived with the couple throughout their pregnancies, until their babies were placed for adoption.

“Thinking back on the experiences we had with the girls, and the boys, I think if you have a strong belief, and that’s going to be your stance, you have to think about whether you’re willing to do something to help the situation,” Strong said. “It’s kind of putting your money where your mouth is.”

Of the Mormon faith, Strong said it made sense to take the girls in, considering the church’s opposition to abortion. Similar reasoning led him to become a single foster parent, one of only three unmarried men ever authorized at the time to do so by the state of Missouri.

“I thought to myself, if you want to do something, be forward about it enough to do it,” Strong said.

Throughout the 80s, he usually had four boys between the ages of 14 and 18 living with him.

“Most don’t want to be there, no matter how badly abused or neglected they may have been in the places they came from,” Strong said. “You’ve moved them into a more structured environment. All of sudden they’re being held accountable.”

School was a priority with Strong presiding over nightly study sessions, mandatory for most of the boys. Those bringing home B grades or higher were excused from spending two hours “at the dining room table with Dad.”

“I was staying with them. This was supervision they never had, a complete change,” Strong said.

He saw 11 of the boys who lived with him through high school graduation. Two received GEDs.

He stood by seven of them as they continued their educations. A pair now have bachelor’s degrees, four have master’s degrees, and one earned his Ph.D.

By the time they reached college, the boys were 18 and had aged out of the foster care system. Although they were no longer technically his charges, Strong continued guiding them, offering emotional and financial support. They returned to his home for holidays and breaks.

The reward, Strong says, was being able to provide life experiences and opportunities that the boys might never have had.

There were camping and fishing trips, and other cultural and educational excursions.

Strong always made sure he spent one-on-one time with each of the kids.

He recalled his experience with one of the boys who was a fan of heavy metal, “I told him, ‘You’ve really got to broaden your horizons beyond KISS.”

He helped expand the boy’s musical palate by striking a deal.

Strong would buy KISS tickets if the boy agreed to attend a concert of Strong’s choosing.

“He wound up going to the St. Louis Symphony with me, and listened to classical music,” Strong said. “I wound up going to a KISS concert in a three-piece suit.”

As in any parenting situation, there were trying times as well.

It was discovered that one of the 17-year-old boys living with him had been an alcoholic from age 12. Strong and Peggy got the teen into rehab and then attended AA meetings with him.

That boy is the same one who earned his Ph.D.

When his foster sons moved on after college, Strong asked them what they thought about their experiences living with him, what helped them the most.

The answer was always, “consistency.”

“One of the boys said, ‘We always knew what the rules were and the consequences,’” Strong said. “They also knew that the consequences would always be imposed.”

There were the occasional cries that Strong was showing favoritism, giving some boys permissions others were not allowed. He explained to the complainers, usually teens who were newer members of the foster family, that they had to earn his trust before they could do certain things, just like he had to earn their trust as a parent.

“I taught them to drive, put them on my insurance policy. Before I let one of them take the car out, how would I know that they wouldn’t take the Cadillac and go 115 mph speeding through the streets of St. Louis?” Strong said.

He also put them on his own health insurance policy rather than relying on the state-provided insurance, and paid the deductibles out of his own pocket.

Strong’s expenditures on the boys far exceeded the state stipend per child. The amount he received was always $50 per child per month too little to meet even their most basic needs for clothing, food, school supplies and transportation.

It’s been 20 years since Strong has had a foster boy in his home. Now he has a whole new set of kids he’s working with.

Four years ago, he walked away from Wall Street finance and became a high school teacher, a vocation he believes he would have followed long ago, “if teachers were paid what they deserve.”

He works in the Mullan School District, making a 135-mile round trip commute each day from Post Falls to the town near the Montana border.

“It’s almost an extension of having had all the foster kids,” Strong said.

He has a lot of experience filling out applications and financial aid forms, and he knows a thing or two about working with teens.

As a senior adviser, Strong tells high school students who are having a hard time listening to their parents, it’s a necessary struggle that’s part of growing up.

He explains to students that although they might think their parents are being mean, moms and dads usually say no, or ask questions, because they care.

Strong maintains contact with most of his foster sons.

“Many of them have come back and told me they’re glad I told them not to do something at some point,” Strong said.