No Holes Barred

The American social system and civilization in general are based on the premise that all will go well if its constituents follow the rules. The next step is which rules? And to ensure that they are followed, the final step is to enforce the rules.

We at Sugar Loaf and anyone familiar with its counterparts know that those who don't follow the rules, whether rebels wishing to overthrow the system and substitute their own or those incapable of following any instruction because they simply don't have the mental-emotional wherewithal, usually end up in prisons, closets, some kind of health care center, or at home under heavy medication. But even in an institution, the incapables can have a rough time, because there are rules there, too.

Carey Delmar was as average-looking a person. If you saw her on the street you might think she was a young mother, someone who worked at a movie theater, maybe a stock girl at a mall. Even if you spoke to her you'd be hard put to see any abnormality. Ask her a question that required a yes or no, however, and your opinion would definitely change, for Carey was that rare person who could only say yes. Ad she got in constant trouble because she could not say no.

Psychiatrists and psychologists gave several long names to her condition, and in keeping with my desire to sidestep the scientific polysyllabic, I won't entertain them here. It's enough to know that young Miss Delmar was mentally-psychologically deranged enough to spend her

adult life at an institution that specialized in such conditions and clientele; the judge chose Sugar Loaf as her permanent home. And because all institutions must be based on no in order for the system to run smoothly and protect everyone, Carey got into trouble constantly.

The problem, of course, was not always Carey's. True, she had to live with herself and suffer the consequences of always saying yes. But just as like attracts like, Carey Delmar was a magnet to others with the same condition and they all got each other into trouble.

I remember one Review Board actually suggest that the best solution was to put the whole bunch of hedonistic self-indulgers in one room and let them make and follow their own rules. This was said in earnest because expecting them to adhere to institution policy was simply beyond them, and as long as they interacted with their own kind, why not give them free reign? The suggestion, though entertained for a short while, was vetoed because it would violate state guidelines, county regulations, city ordinances, and family rules, but nevertheless it held its own as a theoretical possibility.

All I've said has been general and vague. Let me use my notes to turn specific: the girl stripped and spread for any and all at any time and all places. She indulged in sexual activities with both genders, with all ages, and she had no compunction to do so in public at the drop of a skirt. That is, if she was asked. So at one moment she was taking a shower with the boys, the next rolling in bed with a girl, later she might be involved with children. To add to this, Carey's sexual appetite was unbounded. She really could take on an entire squad, platoon, company, battalion, or regiment. It was almost as if sex was why she was born.

My then-job as Assistant Director was to find ways to curb her appetite and choices any way I could short of using a chastity belt, muzzle, blinders,

or handcuffs, though more than once I secretly thought those might be workable solutions. One colleague suggested I go the official route and have her sterilized, but pregnancy wasn't the problem, it was everything leading up to it. Someone suggested lobotomy, another a vibrator she could carry in a holster, another promoted locking her in her room with locked windows so she could onlyseeothers. You can believe me when I say I was constantly challenged by curbing Carey.

As anyone who's worked at a health facility knows, an individual's problem is never solely her own. Everyone interacts through normal, everyday activities such as eating, going to movies, playing bingo. It was natural, then, that a number of sex offenders came knocking at Carey's open door. My notes tell me there were three specific cases that took boys off the parole list and onto Incarcerated. Warned that one more time and they'd be behind bars, these three couldn't ignore Carey any more than an alcoholic could vote for a non-liquor happy hour. The promiscuous, the perverted, impulsive, compulsive, and downright horny always found their way to Carey's door, and often suffered legal consequences.

It appeared that all was hopeless. I jotted the memo, "Controlling this endless sex is like shaking a pop bottle and hoping it won't fizz." I did get the Review Board to transfer several promiscuous people as a way of breaking up the mob by sending them around the Circuit, but it never worked completely. It seems that even when there were no known offenders around, the latent tendencies of many became manifest and these often found themselves at Carey's door. Or table or cornfield or lawn or broom closet. So our only recourse was simply to live with the problem.

But then a series of miracles occurred. Carey Delmar turned twenty-one, got a job at the factory geared to Sugar Loaf Residents, and was told

that she would never have custody of a daughter she'd had by one of her many liaisons. These three things, all happening at the same time, began to open her eyes and close her legs. She still couldn't say no, but more and more she said how about after supper in my room. And once she even said the ground's awfully cold from last night's frost. She would never have dreamed of saying these when a minor.

Because I was at Sugar Loaf for four decades-plus, I saw Carey Delmar go through a number of phases, and I'm happy to report that by the time I retired she'd changed so much that she was no different than the person who stands in the front row before a movie inviting to be seen.