Inuvik (Mar 05/04) - These days, Frank wakes up warm under a heavy blanket and a roof over his head.

For almost half of his life though, it hasn't been like that. Frank (not his real name) lived on the streets of Inuvik.

A homeless alcoholic for nearly two decades, the 44-year-old is hoping to turn his life around.

He's now staying at a transitional home and has been off booze for three weeks. He hopes to stay that way.

Frank is also hoping that by sharing his story, it might help his plight and that of others, whom he calls "regulars," living hand-to-mouth on the streets of this community.

Born in Aklavik in 1960, Frank spent the better part of his childhood on the land with his father after his parents separated and his mother moved to Edmonton.

After a snowmobile accident that took his father's life, Frank was taken into child welfare custody and sent for schooling at Grollier Hall in Inuvik.

That's where his eventual downward spiral into alcoholism and homelessness began.

At age 18, Frank was old enough to leave Grollier Hall. Though not yet a drinker, he carried with him a suitcase full of grim memories that included physical and sexual abuse he suffered at the hall. This is what drove him to the bottle, said Frank.

For Frank, drinking himself into a stupor was his way of forgetting about the past. It also provided him with a one-way ticket to a homeless life.

What started as a nasty habit turned into a disease that has consumed more than half his life.

"(After Grollier Hall) I started drinking lots and I tried to commit suicide once," he said.

He had second thoughts the moment after he slashed his wrist.

"Once the blood started squirting out I tried to stop it because I didn't want to die. I lost so much blood that I woke up in the hospital."

Though fate offered Frank another chance, the compulsion to drink was too strong for him.

After being released from hospital, he went right back to his old habits.

Staying alive

"I'm angry at (the Grollier Hall staff) and I'm angry with myself," he said of his situation. "Because I know I could do better for myself."

With the North's short summers, most of Frank's life as a homeless man in Inuvik has been spent freezing countless nights away under Sir Alexander Mackenzie school, The Mad Trapper and inside utilidors. Lately, Frank says he and the other regulars have been finding shelter inside empty barge containers.

"It's worse than shivering," he said, describing what it's like trying to stay alive when the temperatures plummet into the - 40 region. "When the morning comes we go to places like the post office to get warm."

Now that Frank is trying to turn his life around and stay off booze, the Turning Point, a transitional shelter whose policy is not to offer beds to those under the influence, is where he spends his evenings.

Frank, however, has not forgotten his friends still on the street.

"This is bull----," he said of the neglect of homeless people in Inuvik.

"They are building a new family centre and spending lots of money on a dog shelter, but what about us? Somebody has got to look after people like me."

If one could call Frank fortunate for persevering through a suicide attempt, years of alcohol abuse and bitter cold nights, some of his friends have not been so lucky.

With a tone of sadness, Frank recalls the friends he has lost over the years; most recently Rudolph Aviugana, who was found dead on Mackenzie Rd. two weeks ago.

"I want to change my life and find a steady job and get a place of my own," he said.

"And I know that is what most of the regulars want."