Saturday, July 26, 2008

Alice in Rorschachland

It was 1961. The year of internship was dragging. Clinical work was interesting but the long grey Maryland evenings hung heavy. My dissertation sat on a box high on the shelf above. I needed to re-write it for publication but I was tired of working on it. I found a new diversion. Rorschach evaluation was a recently acquired skill. Patients at the V.A. Hospital at Perry Point provided a continuous flow of pathological Rorschach respopnses so grotesque they seemed to reflect a Wonderland gone wild. I tried to express my growing involvement with the technique in satirical fantasy. Spouting innuendoes,decipherable only by Rorschach devotees, Alice would grope her way through the ten inkblots. Despite my enthusiasm with the metaphors, the story was left unfinished when I returned to Philadelphia for my first professional job as a doctoral level psychologist.

Hiding crumpled in the center drawer was the unfinished handwritten Rorschach parody. I had all but forgotten the forced puns. I laughed at my own humor and spent a week finishing the story. Tongue -in-cheek, I mailed it off to a very staid editor of the Journal of Projective Techniques--a man well known in Rorschach circles. Within a month the acceptance arrived.

"We would like to print your amusing paper, but would you kindly forward a hundred word absrract to comply with journal policy?" I wanted to comply but how could Alice be abstracted? An idea hit me. It was not the technique that needed cxriticizing but it's abuse. Who, besides Alice, could fault a pack of cards? In good conscience I wrote the hundred words.

"Misconceptons and misuse of the Rorschach are parodied in this Alice in Wonderland story. Alice falls down a rabbit hole and journeys through the Rorschach plates until she is caught and tried at an Inquiry on Card X. The story can be interpreted as critical of Rorschach practicianers who search only for pathology, not health, who ignore the free association instructions to the client, and who themselves restructure reality along Rorschach dimensions of personality and terminology.

I

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister onthe bank and having nothing to do. She was considering in her "mind" (she always considered her mind in quotation marks) whether the pleasure of making a disy chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking daiseys, when suddenly a green rabbit with curvy eyelashes ran close by her. There was nothing very remarkable in that, nor did Alice
think it so much out of the way to hear the rabbit say to himself, "Oh dear, twenty minutes late. I shall be contaminated." When she thought it over afterwards it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered, but at the time it did not seem at all bizarre. Yet, when the rabbit took a stopwatch out of its waistecoat pocket, looked at it, then hurried on, Alice started to her feet. It flashed across her "mind" (she always thought of "mind" inquotation marks)that she had never before seen a green rabbit with either a waistcoat pocket or a watch to take out of it. Burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit hole under the hedge.

In another moment, down went Alice after it, never once considering the problem of size constancy. Down, down, down she fell, quite sorry by now that she had jumped so impulsively without evidence of either appropriate ego control or proper executive processes. Thump, thump, thump! She landed upon a heap of sticks and dry leaves (at least they were shaped that way but were clearly without color) and the fall was over.

Alice was not a bit hurt and jumped to her feet in a moment. She looked up to see nothing but blank space above her head. All around her was a black dreary expanse, sometimes broken by shades of grey or white, but not a speckle of color. She was contemplating the possibilities of an organic basis for her perceptual distortion(she had given her cortex quite a jar in the landing) when all at once the green rabbit reappeared. There was not a moment to be lost. Away went Alice after him and was just in time to see the rabbit turn a corner(I would describe the corner dear reader, but since it was only a rare detail I will not tarry here) and to hear him exclaim: "Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it is getting. I must get to X before the Inquiry," and off he ran and was soon no-where to be seen. All at once, Alice, who was now beginning to remember how lonely she was and how nice it would be to be sitting by the fire with her cat Dinah, began to cry.

"Mustn't cry, you know!" she heard, and looking up, realized that she was sitting at the feet of a giant Halloween Mask (or at least what would be the feet of a Halloween mask if Halloween masks had feet). "How strange! thought Alice, "but everything today is strange."

"What kind of a bird are you?" asked the mask. Alice looked closely and could make out two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.

"I'm not a bird at all. I'm a child," replied Alice indignantly.

"A human child?" asked the mask.

"Of course," Alice answered.

"Impossible! Only one human on this card, and she has no head."

"Well I have a head," Alice replied, "which is about all that you have, I believe."

"Don't be impertinent," said the mask."You're being scored, you know."

"I am not scared. You don't affect me at all."

"Why were crying, then? It's the black, you know," the mask continued without even waiting for an answer. "Makes us all a bit down in the mouth."

"Everthing is so bizarre today," explained Alice.

"Bizarre?" questioned the mask, suspiciously."

"Yes, I'm not sure I'm the same girl I was yesterday."

"Write that down" said the mask (to no one at all that Alice could see). "And remind me to bring it up at the Inquiry."

"I'm certain I must have changed. I'll try to say 'How doth the little...' She crossed her hands in her lap, as if she were saying her lessons, and began to re-cite. Her voice sounded hoarse and the words did not come out the sanme as they used to sound.

"How doth the little butterfly
Remember who he wuz
Before he learned to question why
When he wuz only fuzz?

Is he the same short wiggly worm
Or is he any more for this,
When he politely takes his turn
At completing metamorphosis?

And likewise what remains with us
When we are twelve or thirty,
Of thoughts and feelings long ago
When we were small and dirty?"

"I'm sure those are not the right words," mused Alice, and her eyes filled with tears once again.

"Certainly not," said the mask. "No matter. Go find the March Bears on Card II and ask tem to tell you their story."

"March Bears? What, pray tell, is a March Bear?"

"Dunce! You're obviously of borderline intelligence. You've heard the story of the emperer's new clothes, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes. He paraded naked in front of his subjects, but I don't see what that's got to do with it."

"He marched bare, didn't he?"

"I never thought of it that way before."

At that the mask began to grow fuzzier and dimmer. It's edges slowl;y ran into the white background until all that was left was a huge grinning mouth, and then it too disappeared.

II


"Curiouser and curiouser,"thought Alice. "A moment ago I was talking to a mask, and now here I am seated between two black bears playing pat-a-cake. "Peas porridge hot," shouted the first. "Pease porridge cold," cried the second, even louder. Before they could get to nine days old, Alice interrupted.

"Finally, something I understand. May I join in?"

"No room," said the bears in unison.

"Nonsense," said Alice. "There's plenty of room."

"In what way are an orange and a banana alike"? asked one of the bears.

"Oh, good, riddles," Alice retorted, always eager to show off her abstract ability.
"They're both fruit."

"Wrong," said the first bear. "They're not alike at all. One's round and orange and the other is long and yellow."

"Failure to discriminate," said the second. Write that down."


"Oh, stuff and nonsense," said Alice, not one to be easily put down. "They are both fruit, as well as apples and grapes and peaches and pears and pomegranites."

"Word salad," said the first bear.

"Pathognomonic" the second chimed in.

"I think they are both horrid," Alice thought, but not wishing to appear impolite, she ignored the last remarks.

"The mask said to ask you to tell your story."

The March Bears sighed deeply and began to sing in voices choked with sobs:

"You've seen bears at the circus and bears in the zoo,
But we are the bears who live on Card II.
We play peas porridge hot, and peas orridge cold.
If you don't see our movement you're not very old.
If we look like two bunnies don't spread it about.
If you see us in color you've really freaked out.
Do you see us up close, do you see us from far?
Are we soft, are we fuzzy, do we shine like a star?
Are we two dimensions or do we have vista?
Are we lady or man bears? That's our business, sister.
Do you see us attired in red hats and pink vests?
Do we seem to be friendly or are we just pests?
Do you think we are skinny or maybe too fat?
Just what do you think has made you say that?
The shape of our paws or the form of our noses,
Do you really know what deep problems this poses?
Do we look like Russia or maybe the Tsar?
You'd better lie down girl. You're really bizaare. Do you favor Klopfer or Exner or Beck?
Just shuffle the cards or get a new deck."

"I'm sure I don't understand a thing that you've said," commented Alice.

"Naturally," said he first bear. "We knew it from the start. Your thinking is confused. You are disoriented in all three spheres."

"I may be disoriented," returned Alice but at least I'm not bleeding."

"I knew it. I knew it," from bear two."She sees blood."

"Shocking," said the first bear.

"Fiddlesticks," said Alice, ignoring their disdainful glances. Your paws are bloody. You really should wear shoes, you know. Wait, I have a band-aid in my pocket. I'll have you fixed up in no time at all."

As Alice tried to apply the bandaid to the bears' feet they recoiled in horror.

"Stop it! Stop it"! they screamed "She's creating a color disturance. Call the Examiner"!

"I knew she'd try to use that medical model," said the first bear. "Get her"!

The two bears bared their fangs and leaped at Alice. It was only at the last second that Alice spied the Spinning Top way off in the distance--a large white whirling top that made a strange humming sound as it approached--"m...m...m...m" In a moment the top was upon them... It twirled right between the two bears and, just as they were about to pounce on Alice, she leaped onto it, grabbed the center post with both hands, and held on tightly. In two seconds she had left the bears far behind as she heard them resume their pat-a-cake game.

III

The top zigged this way and that, and, once Alice was far enough away from Card II that the bears could not reach her, she began to relax and enjoy the scenery. This was a strange country she was traveling through. It had trees anbd grass and animals and people but everything and everyone was of two colors- a shade of greyish-black and a variant of reddish-pink. At first Alice was somewhat taken aback by the lack of variety, but after a while she hardly noticed and everything seemed quite natural. Soon the top slowed down enough so that she could jump off without falling. She started to walk down a beautiful garden path when, turning round a bend she encountered what appeared to be two strange-looking Cannibals. They were dancing around a large pot shaped like a pepper. "They are so much alike they must have be twins," she thought. Above the pot hovered a monstous Red Butterfly The cannibals were naked except for a tight collar of pearls around their necks. Sometimes they looked like men and sometimes like women. The more she looked, the harder it was to tell what they were.

Although Alice was beginning to feel hungry (it was at least an hour beyond the time when Nanny served her an afternoon snack of cookies and milk), the pot did not smell at all appetizing. The cannibals were pouring in far too much pepper, so much so that the butterfly who was hovwering above was continually sneezing.

"What are you cooking? the girl asked. "Why pepper pot soup, of course."

"And why do you put so much pepper into it?"

"We ask the questions around here," snapped the cannibals in unison. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Alice answered hesitantly, now beginning to feel unwanted. "I was riding the spinning top and before I could say Psychodiagnostik
here I was." (Alice sometimes spoke in German when she wanted to impress, and although she hadn't the slightest idea what Psychodiagnostic meant, she was sure that neither did the cannibals.)

"Well" answered the Cannibals, "you are very lucky to be in our company on this card. We're very popular, you know."

"No, I don't know, and what's more I really don't care. I think you are very rude. And what's more you still haven't told me why you cook with so much pepper."

At this point the Cannibals resumed their dancing and began to chant:

"Speak harshly to your butterfly
And eat him when he sneezes.
He's introverted and he's shy
And if it's cold he freezes.
If you see buterflies, it's good.
Your passions do not rule ya.
But if you see them more than you should
Then sister you're peculiar.

As Alice watched, the cannibals seemed to be changing in front of her eyes from men to women and back to men again. Faster and faster they danced until they seemed no more than a flash of light.

"What are they doing"? she asked the Red Butterfly who still fluttered between them.

"It's their Liberation Movement," explained the butterfly. "It all started last week when they began arguing about whether it was better to be a man or a woman. They couldn't decide so they keep changing back and forth. It's a kind of metamorphisis, I think. Would you like to join their Movement"?

"Certainly not. I'm perfectly happy being just a girl"

At that, a pair of grotesque Red Monkeys swung down from the trees under which Alice was standing and began jabbering at her so rapidly that it sounded as just a jumble of words.

"Sexual confusion," accused the mokeys.

"Projection," they added.

But to Alice it sounded like "Profusion...Sexection...Conjectual" all mixed up.

"Quiet," screamed Alice, when she could stand it no longer. "I can't hear myself think."

"Why would you want to do that"? queried the butterfly. "Suppose you listened and didn't hear anything. Better leave well enough alone."

"It's just an expression," answered Alice, as she tried to recall the last time she heard herself think.

"Well it sounds pretty silly to me," said the butrterfly. "What you probably meant was that it was so noisy that you couldn't think yourself here, and then you wouldn't be, of course."

"Wouldn't be what"? asked Alice, growing more confused.

"Be where, not what," corrected the butterfly. "Your grammar leavs a lot to be desired."

"Beware of what? screamed Alice, by now very much annoyed.

"Of Godzilla, of course," the butterfly replied as he slowly began to melt.

Now Alice had seen butter melt many times, butshe couldn't recall ever having seen a butterfly melt before.

"Before you go, won't you please tell me how to get to Card IV? Alice asked politely.

"I really haven't the authority," answered the butterfly or at least what was left of him.

"Please," implored Alice.

"Just take the Approach you've been following. It's only a little bit farther," the butterfly's antennae seemed to say.

"In a twinkling Alice was confronted with Godzilla on Card IV.

IV-X

Alice continued her journe, encountering many strange and wonderful creatures. On Card IV she met Godzilla--a monster ape who rode atop a sacred cow named Hermann who did his best to squash her with his boots. Alice narrowly escaped when Godzilla's arms turned into long-necked geese, who advised her to crawl through the monster's cave to Card V.

In this land she ate the magic grass and began to shrink until she was no bigger
than Intellectual;ization, the winger bat who turned into the green rabbit, who, in turn, became black.

"Your color keeps changing," she exclaimed in surprise.

"Your experience is unbalanced, child," the rabbit accused."you are obviuously depressed."

"That's made," Alice shot back angrily.

"We're all mad here," the rabbit responded as he hurried off to attend trhe Queen's Inquiry.

Next Alice encpountered two ferocious Crocodiles --oral and sadistic--who chased her off their card.

On Card VI Alice suddenly felt very tired and lay down on a Foxskin Rug and fell asleep. When she awoke she found she had attained her full size.

"How nice and warm and soft and shady it is here," she thought to herself but the foxskin rug seemed to read her "mind."

"Infantile! Infantile" shouted it's head.

"I'm only a little girl, you know,"she pointed out.

"No matter, your social development is arrested."

"Imagine that," replied Alice, Hoping she wasn't about to be locked up.
"That goes without saying," said the fox. "Now leave here at once. I no longer wish to associate with you."

""Goodby," snapped Alice but the Foxskin never heard her because he had dissolved into a large, fluffy cloud shaped like the letter K and Alice knew instinctively she had arrived on Card VII.

Alice walked the perimter of the K, being careful to keep both feet on the fuzzy, grey border without stepping off the edge intomthe surrounding empty space. After circling several times she began to become quite dizzy. Just when things looked like they couldn't become much worse, they did. She almost bumped head first into two Indian squaws--Tweedle Do and Tweedle Don't. They were engaged in a loud and animated verbal battle. Tweedle Do perpetually wanted to have fun. "I will," she screamed. Tweedle Don't always saw the negative side of things. "Better not," she warned. One said "yes" the other "no." One said "right," the other "no." Forward-backward, up-down, stop-go, sit-stand. They never agreed on anything and usually wound up doing nothing. Alice started hearing voices shouting names at her--"conflict...guilt...obsessal..confessional," they seemed to be talking about her.
She was about to turn her back and leave when the squaws invited her to a C party.
"What's a C party"? she asked.

"Why don't you come and C"? replied the squaws.

"I think you are both horrid," Alice responded. "Everyone tries to see what's wrong with me. No one ever tries to see what's right with me."

"She's quite mad, you know," Tweedle Do remarked.

"Darn right I'm mad. So mad I could scream."

"Better not," said Tweedle Don't.

"See you at the party," interrupted Tweedle Do, ignoring both remarks. Don't forget to wear your colors."

THe C party on Card VIII wasn't a party at all, but more like a race. Everyone had to find a partner andrace up a tall mountain. When Alice arrived the March bears were climbing neck and neck to the top.

"What do they do when they reach the top"? Alice asked.

"Come down again, of course," answered the two orange dogs, waiting their turn at the bottom. "You really are simple. Where's your twion, anyway"?

"I have no win," replied Alice, only a big sister who is still sitting on a bank by the rabbit hole,where I wish I was now, if you must know."

"For shame"! said the first dog. "Everyone here has a twin. We're all symmmetrical. That's the way we keep our balance. If there were no twins we'd all fall off intothe white.

"It's a very hard climb," continued Alice, who by this time had decided to ignore things she didn't understand, which was almost everything these days.

"Persevere," advides the second dog.

"What's that," asked Alice, who was only in the second grade and knew that severe meant hard (like the Pilgrims having a severe first winter in the New World), but had no idea what 'persevere' meant. She guessed it might mean a hard purr like Dinah, her cat made when she purred in her sleep.

"Never mind," said the first dog. You'll perseverate naturally. Weall do here sooner or later. Go find your twin. No use staying here. You can't play without a partner. Besides, you're the wrong color. You'll clash and ruin our color balance.

"Your what"? Alice asked. "Oh,never mind. You'll just say more nonsense. I'm leaving."

And she did.

On Card IX Aliceencountered the Orange Witch riding on the horns of a Green Moose.The witch invited Alice to a game of croquet to be played on top of a pink cloud. When Alice protested that the cloud would not support her, the witch accused her of lacking stability, and asked herto respond to a riddle:

"If a table isstable, is an untable unstable"?

"Let's table the issue," Alice answered punningly.

Just then the Green Rabbit ran by, and removing the stopwatch from his waistecaot pocket, announced excitedly.

"You'll be late for the Queen's Inquiry. Hurry! Hurry! You must get to Card X.


Everyone rushed to the next Card and Alice was drawn alongwith the mob.

On this Card Alice observed an underwater ballet inwhich crabs and frogs , and sea horses of varying sizes and colors contorted in groteque gyrations. THeQueen was an enormous blue octopus with soft spongy legs constantly wiggling in a menacing manner toward Alice. She screamed throughout the entire proceedings.

"Off with her red! Off with her red"! presumably referring to the scarlet red ribbon Alice wore to tie back her hair.

Finally, the Examiner, who was apparently both Judge and Prosecutor in the case, called the Court to order and Alice began to realize that it was she who was on trial. Alice was asked to account for her earlier remarks undwer penalty of Miss Diagnosis, the Court Baliff.

"Answer theWhole Trust and nothing but the Whole," cautioned the Examiner,"omitting the Rare Details. Remember we are all here to help you."

"I'll try," replied Alice, although I can't see how anyof this will help me."

"What is your location"? asked the Examiner.

"I live at 823 Orchard Lane. It's the first house on the left side of the tree with the green shutters."

"I've never seen a tree with green shgutters," interrupted the Prosecutor. "They're usually red, but we'll let that pass."

"Your Card, the Examiner persisted.

"Well, I've been to all of them," Alice replied truthfully, "but I certainly wouldn't want to live on any of them." They are not even nice pl;aces to visit, let alone fall into through a rabbit hole."

At that, the Green Rabbit gasped and turned a bright purple, sputtering and coughing uncontrollably.

"Off with her red"! shouted the Queen.

"order, order in the Court," shouted the examiner, writing furiously on his yellow tabl;et. Wemust get everything down in sequence.

"You told the halloween mask on Card I that you were not the same girl you were yesterday, I believe. What was it that made you say that"?

"Are you the same as you were yesterda"? countered Alice, "or aren't we all changed constantly by the multitude of experiences and sensations that we encounter each moment"? Alice didn't know where those words came from but she acted as if she understood it all. She was quite proud of that response and sat back smugly in her seat, beginning to enjoy the trial.

"Try to answer the questions, please," the Examiner responded reproachfully. "What I want to know is what did you see on the card that made you answer as you did."

"I'm sure I can't determine that," persisted Alice, forming her words carefully. "And let me remind you that according to law, I'm innocent until proven guilty, and free to associate with anyone I please."

"Not here," retorted the Examiner, momentarily losing his objectivity. "It's guilt by association at the Inquiry

"Off with her red," screamed the Queen.

"SDtuff and nonsense"! Alice shouted back at her. "I understand it now. It's nothing but a silly gamme with it's own crazy rules. Only nobody wins."

"She's hysterical," screamed the Queen. "Write that down."

"How do you score it"? asked the Brown Crayfish, who was apparently the Court Recorder.

"I'm leaving," said Alice and she began to walk off the witness stand.

"You can't leave," screamed the Examiner. "I've only just begun my Inquiry."

At this an angry cry arose from the spectators in the gallery.

"Off with her red"! the Queen demanded again. This seemed to be the only wordsshe knew. She ifted all eight tentacles to snatch at Alice's hair ribbon.

"You can't help me," Alice yelled over her shoulder. "You're nothing but a pack of cards, and not very useful ones at that. You're certainly not much good for playing War or Old maid or Go Fish."

At this there arose a general furor amongst the jurors, and all of the cards flew at Alice. She screamed and fell over backwards, hitting her head against a grey Stovepipe that two Frogs were trying to hold upright and climb at the same time. The last thing she saw before she fainted was the grinning face of the Green Rabbit, whose eyelashes had turned into Seahorses.

***



It has been 47 years since I penned that story. It was reprinted in my book Notes and Blots around 1972. The book did not sell but still floats around Amazon in used condition. I made a few editorial changes for this Blog.

Curiously I find several critques of the Rorschch--al negative--cite Alice in Rorschachland. Despite what I said in the mandatory Abstract of the journal article, I did not set out to criticize the Rorschach. I was merely intending to write a humorous parody. However in reading the piece after a number of years, it idoes seem pretty critical. Nevertheless I still use the Rorschach (and TAT) in testing. I may be the only one doing so in a school setting. I find it useful in describing personality structure and content, although I consider it a structured interview rather than a test. My scoring is only token.

I wonder how often literary critics read into pieces meanings that were never consciously intended. No one (including me) has ever analyzed my choice of responses for the story to derive my personality profile. It might not be so favorable.

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Monday, July 21, 2008

Threads

The child is father of the man
But does a self survive?
Is childhood psyche still alive
Unraveling some master plan?

I seasrch for signs of current me
In shaded memories
That drift in on the morning breeze
And will not let me be.

In dreams of long abandoned toys
That are forever mine.
In visions of a place and time
And echoes of a mother's voice.

Thursday, July 17, 2008

On ADHD

Although I have encountered ADHD many times inprofessional practive my most meaningful insights are from persponal experiences after having married into an ADHD family. My wife muti-tasks successfully much to my amazement. While driving her car she is also putting on chapstick, adjusting the radio, adjusting the air conditioning, reading the navigator, and talking on her cell phone. I, on the other hand, cannot engage in a converation while driving without on the Interstate without missing my exit. But ADHD allows more than multitaking. The perceptual difusion
chacteristic of those with ADHD contrasts with my own OCD need to focus. My son Michael is a wonderful example. When I remarried an ADHD stepson and stepdaughter, both of whom I learned to love dearly, were part of the marriage contract. Michael was in high school at the time. I love watching football with Mike because he, like a quarterback,he can see the whole field at once while I can focus onlu on one opr two players at a time. "Did you see the pattern the tight end ran?" he asks excitedly."No, I was watching he quarterback." Well Mike saw the quarterback as well but, like Mill Madden when he does his chalkboard analysis, Mike saw the entire field. This phenomenon leads me to believe that Michael's ADHD and my OCD are related. One is the opposite of the other. Whatever makes Michael excessively diffuse, renders me overly focussed.

After some rough beginnings Mike and I became good buddies. But it took a while as my OCD and his ADHD did battle. I wrote a poem about this experience. I called it "Entrope."

If entrope was meant to be
Then Michael's the epitome.
But if there's order in the Universe
Then Michael's life is the reverse.

When he does things that he's begun
(for all the training I have done)
He's never learned to do the "un."

His lights stay lit forevermore
He's never learned to lock the door.
His laundry strewn in one big heap
His carpet thirty inches deep.
The snacks he garners there to munch on
Lie gathering mold in Michael's dungeon.

Order, disorder, which is worse?
You'll find no answer in this verse.
If Michael's way is not perverse
There's chaos in the Universe.

But if Michael's way becomes the law
Throw symetry right out the door,
Disorder rules the Universe
So I will need to end this verse
Because it's getting verse and verse

If entrope was meant to be
Then Michael's the epitome.
So take the time to pity me
Crusading against entrope.

Monday, July 14, 2008

Harris A

BB, who creates beautiful prize-winning images of spring blooms and fog rising from the lake at dawn, finds my blogs dark. "Only some," I protest feebly. Yet life isn't always cherry blossoms and green meadows. Many years ago, while I was still working at the residential school,the direct care staff went on strike. Someone had to man the buidings for residents who never went on strike and left only at death. I worked in a unit I call Harris A for several hours each day along with many other non-union staff. Harris A, for elderly residents, would, in earlier years, be considered a "back ward." Surely there were positives to be found there but the poem I wrote at that time was dark, indeed.

Like rocks of shale they endure
Holding on to form without function,
Fragile and crumbly,
Existing alone, together
The aged residents of Harris A
Cared for by worn out workers paid to care.
Extending worn outlives another day,
Another year.

Ronnie, frenetic in his compuslive rituals
Moving large rocks here one day and back the next,
The trash emptier,
His routine engraved indelibly on sulci never fully formed.
Interrupt him not.

Brenda, obese, Queen of the group.
She knows how things run,
Where breakfast cereals are kept
And who gets tea with Sweet and Low,
And if Dorethea is working first or second shift.

Crotchedy Penn hobbling around
Demands her boots on rainy days or fair,
Flirtatious with the men she calls "Sweetheart."
Not always ancient, she
Remembers how it used to be
When Matron's word was law.

They all remember except Harry,
Whose plaque-encrusted cortex
Forgets what day it is.
Refusing to go to workshop, he pinches my hand pleading
"What should I do? What should I do?"

Allen, nearly blind, needs me to help him dress.
Left by his father years ago,
He can't let go his anger
And berates us all
For any small offense, real or imagined,
Fiery resentment in his darkened world,
And yet, humming and rocking to Mozart,
I think I saw him smile.

Deaf Lizzy, who has hair growing on her chin,
A nose that needs wiping,
Asks for cereal, then won't eat
Till staff yell, reads in her room at night
I think she mocks us silently.

Conrad talks in a slow, sing-song voice.
Who needs help with suspenders
And wants me to burn his toast
Teeters with his walker
But goes to workshop willingly.
It takes an hour.

Jack beckons me with a finger
To tuck in his shirt
Or answer some foolish whispered question.
He curses like a sailor when he can't do his shoes
Provoking Allen,
He sounds like Elmer Fudd.

And Michael, once wild and uncontrolled,
Now enfeebled,
Sits cross-legged on the floor,
Jabber-playing with a ball.
In the back room lays Walter,
Sucking life froma syringe.
Fearfil, I keep my distance,
Until one night he died.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

Depression Child

On a recent trip to visit my daughter and her family in Massachusetts, my wife and I stopped at a diner off Route 84, near the Connecticut border. The sign advertised “Food and Books.” The décor was unusual for a restaurant. Every available wall space, from floor to ceiling, was lined with used books. We were told that there were thousands more in the basement if we cared to browse further. Most were of little interest but it was fun checking titles while our dinner was being prepared. I assumed that the owner was running a lending library on the side. Later I learned that the books had been discarded by libraries and that every diner was entitled to leave with three books without charge. That made six books between my wife and me. Now that was of interest! I spent a half hour selecting five volumes and left with a Studs Turkle autobiography, a Philip Wiley novel, a biography of F. Scott Fitzgerald, an account of a schizophrenic breakdown by Kurt Vonnegut’s son,
and Morton Thompson’s Not as a Stranger.
Generally, I can afford to satisfy my literary needs at Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com without compromising the estate that will go to my beneficiaries. Why, then, get excited about a few gratuitous books? My wife wouldn’t touch them for the same reason she pulls the top spread off the bed when we check into a motel. “Who knows who touched it last (or what they did on it?)” My enchantment with bargains, on the other hand, goes back to my earliest years and I offer no apologies.
I was born in 1933 but Black Friday and the Great Depression were more than distant memories to my family. My father was laid off from his sales position in the garment district of New York City. In retrospect it was no catastrophe for our growing family for it motivated him to strikeout for himself as a ladies’ coat and suit manufacturer. The business thrived but the first few years were difficult. Mom skimped to keep the budget balanced and even managed to open a savings account for me at Greenwich Savings Bank, endorsed by the children’s radio personality, Uncle Don. Uncle Don’s career ended calamitously shortly after when someone left his mike open and he proclaimed unknowingly to thousands of adoring juveniles, “Thank God… done with the little bastards until Monday.” Mom bought “plain” milk rather than homogenized because it was two cents cheaper. She skimmed the fat off the top and threw it down the drain. She scolded my father for buying an electric train set for my birthday when I needed a new mackinaw. Yet a new jacket would eventually have become threadbare, like the old one, and by now would be long forgotten. I cherish that locomotive which I resurrected as an adult and still display on my office shelf. I call it my mackinaw train.
I became a compulsive saver and then investor. Ben Franklyn didn’t need to tell me “A penny saved is a penny earned.” I’m not too proud to pick up a copper I find lying in the street. I drive my wife wild turning out lights when the room is empty…sometimes when it is not. I’ll layer myself in wool sweaters before turning up the thermostat in December. I’ll scrape the peanut butter jar spanking clean before discarding it for a replacement Jiffy.
So I’ll read my new acquisitions and display them without shame in my library as if I had purchased them new.

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Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Laying on of hands...and feet

I have long felt that personal contact is essential to effectiveness in life. I don't like long conversations on the telephone. I do my business and say goodbye. If I have something really important to say to someone I want to eyeball him. Yet, I am not one of those people who needs to physically touch every person to who I am speaking. I find that sexy in a woman but I am uncomfortable when men do more than a handshake with me. A high five once in a while is acceptable.

Moving into our new home required that I take physical ownership. I need to nail something together, assemble some furniture, screw the pictures to the wall...whatever, so long as it has my personal touch. True, I pay for the mowing and fertilization, but I trim the shrubs myuself and plant trees wherever I find some space outside. Its been six months and only now does the house begin to feel my own. Similarly with the neighrbood. Joyce and I walk two to three miles a day down country roads. I take possession of the geography,learning each tree, memorizing every landscape. Driving by doesn't work. When we visit new places I need to explore the side streets, find the off-beat shops and restaurants, talk to the natives...in their language if I can manage it. We've walked Paris, London, Bathe, Rome, Florence, Pisa and several of the quaint medieveal towns of Tuscany. I saw parts of Jerusalem most tourists avoid. With an unbelievably poor sense of direction, maps are my friends, but still I get lost. Maps of Rome are impossible to follow. The streets make no sense and change names every few blocks. We tried to find our way from St. Peter's Square in Rome to the Hilton by dead reckoning and after an hour wound up back where we had started. But getting lost is OK. You see things you never anticipated. There's always a cab if things become desperate.
Touch establishes contact and contact establishes possession. We buy souvenirs to bring home from a trip and cherish photogrpahs and possessions of parents and relatives long gone. Primitive peole believed in such magic. They burned an enemy in efigy. Fingernail parings in the wrong hands could bring harm to the owner.
We vneed toshake hands with the superstar as if the touch would rub off on ourselves. If someone areouses our emotions we say that we've been "touched."