(L to R) Clients Mike Caro and Perez discuss their experience at WorkForce One with paralegals Dyan Davis and Shaneequa Elliott.

When Broward County’s penniless and jobless walk into Sharon Bourassa’s office, she sees more than troubled souls in need of a compassionate ear and sound legal advice—she sees herself. It’s the reason why she puts the same question to everyone who comes to see her, no matter the sad story or the tough climb that surely lies ahead. She asks it to scores of welfare recipients who come to her complaining that the system is failing them. She asks it to the unemployed moms who seek food stamps, a bus pass, or child care guaranteed by Florida statute. She asks it to the ex-offenders out on parole determined to go straight. She asks it to the ex-addicts who’ve cleaned up their act…and even to a few who haven’t, so long as they’re serious about taking the first big step today.

Bourassa asks the question because an angel behind a desk once asked it of her.

“What’s your dream?” she asks. “Because I know there was a time in your life when you had one.”

Once they’ve answered—and they always do—Bourassa shares her story with them, rewinding to those panic-stricken days in 1973 when she was abandoned with two small children to feed. Not only did her husband walk out on his family to be with his mistress, he left his wife with no job, no money, no car, nowhere to live, and no way to provide for Sean, then 3, and Shannon, 18 months. Bourassa speaks of the overwhelming shame and embarrassment she felt walking into that welfare office in Manchester, N.H, desperately seeking sustenance for her kids. And how, in an unexpected twist, her spirits were lifted once inside after meeting a woman named Lois Callas, who wore a dress, not a halo. “It was my lucky day,” she says. “I walked in and got the super social worker of all time.”

Her clients listen in rapt attention, for in Bourassa’s story they hear shades of their own.

Bourassa unloaded all of her troubles on Callas, who vowed to help and then did, securing her a clothing allowance, a Section 8 housing voucher, and cash assistance to support her two kids. But looking back, the most lasting thing Callas gave her didn’t cost New Hampshire a dime: a simple and sensible suggestion that, once heeded, would change Bourassa’s life forever.

“So I’m thinking you might want to go to college,” Callas said.

“That just completely floored me, that she would say that to me at that moment,” recalls Bourassa. Born into a blue-collar family, she was led to believe that “college is for rich kids” and never took her studies too seriously. She earned her high school diploma, along with a transcript that reflected her primary interest as a schoolgirl…schoolboys. Higher education was never in the picture until Callas posed The Question. The one that Bourassa would spend the better part of the next decade answering. And the one that was to become a staple of her own pep talks in the years to come.

“What’s your dream?” Callas asked. “What do you want to do in life? What would you like to become?”
Bourassa thought to herself, “Wow, here is just the nicest woman in the world.” Her answer to Callas’ question was “I want to be just like you.”

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