The Only Paradigm

If I were going about these memoirs scientifically I would sort them into categories so the reader could see big patterns at a glance. Or maybe chronologically a logical flow. But because we had all kinds of people and conditions at all times and we had to sort things constantly, the natural way to reminisce is to discuss them as they enter my mind. With all deference to the venerable Dr. Avery, it this method also allows me to make the Residents and incidents as real as possible.

Enter Lane Parsons. He was what is commonly called egocentric, possibly megalomaniac, because he saw himself not only as the center of the universe but as theonlyone who existed. We've all run across peoplelikeLane, but seldom do we trip over one with such an exclusive and supreme degree of selfness.

Years before I had played the game Password with a friend faintly similar to Lane, though a weak dilution in anyone's book. In fact, my friend passed as a person who was no more self-centered than the average salesman. But once he tried to elicit answers that required a common language, you knew just how self-centered and conceited he was. I specifically remember his clue for the word cabin. He offered, "Benny's." And because of his egocentric way of seeing everything, he expected everyone in the world to respond to that clue the way he did. He answered this way because when he was fifteen he knew a man named Benny who owned a cabin. How comical it was that he expected everyone to know of

his experience, but this is the way it is with such people and the way Lane Parsons operated. Only worse.

When you spoke with Lane you felt you were invisible because in his presence NO ONE existed except him, which meant that your voice came out of nowhere like a thought. If you ever had a feeling of self-importance it was shattered when you were with Lane Parsons, because he didn't evenacknowledgethe existence of anyone but himself. Needless to say, Lane's version was pathologic to the point that he couldn't live in normal society. He was even a constant challenge at Sugar Loaf.

If this undercurrent of you-don't-exist wasn't enough, it is also the case that Mr. Parsons was a Taurus, the Zodiac sign known for its stubbornness. If you could crack through his outer ego-shell, you were likely to encounter his immovable rock of bullheadedness. Lane Parsons' way of translating that was that he wasalwaysright. I learned this the hard way the first time we met. I was a janitor then. When I entered his room I was careful not to make the same mistake my predecessor had made, the mistake that left him sprawled on the floor, spread-eagle, arms, legs, brooms, mops, and dust rags jutting out in every direction. There was no way I was going to give him a reason to feel I had invaded his privacy, his sacred castle. So I knocked.

If you don't know this, be advised now: a mentally/emotionally imbalanced individual does not think and react the say way others do, especially if he has a strong case of egomania mixed with a full dose of Taurus. Our notion and his idea of a properly kept bedroom may be realities apart, which was the case when it came to things on his floor. His idea was that there must NEVER be ANYTHING there. This included rugs, his shoeshine kit, cassette collection, wastebasket. All these he put on his bed. And it's my guess that since the bed was on the floor, he racked his

brains trying to getiton the bed.

With everything piled high, you might wonder how the man slept. He had devised an efficient method. He simply took the four corners of the bedspread, folded them neatly to the center, and lifted the entire content. This he ceremoniously jammed inside the closet, which meant that his iron law of nothing-on-the-floor was maintained even during the night. It answered admirably.

Before entering his room that first time I remembered that I shouldn't invade his privacy, I'd forgotten about his floor-idiosyncrasy. So oversight of oversights, I shifted his shoeshine kit from his bed. Fortunately, Lane possessed more Taurean traits than stubbornness: he could --- rarely --- also be patient. To a point. His first reaction was, "Iput everything on the bed." I was his favorite word.

I responded from the level of Staff with, "Butwedon't.Wekeep the bed clear during the day."

He responded firmly, "ButIdon't. And this ismyroom."

A blind man could see a nasty encounter approaching, so I swept the floor fast and left. I would straighten things out later when he was out.

I smiled later when I saw his bed was very bumpy. Underneath I found not only the shoeshine kit but everything else that one normally puts on the floor. I asked the long-term Staff what was to be done and they answered, "If you expect to remove the spots from a leopard around here, good luck." So Lane was incurable in everyone's mind. Well, I wasn't going to fight it. If he wanted his bed cluttered, that was his business. Besides, it made sweeping a whole lot easier.

But some of his idiosyncrasies merged on annoying when he was out ofhiscastle and on Sugar Loaf turf. For instance, on Outings. Everyone was amazed when he put his name of the list to go to the zoo because he hadn't

been out for a year and a half. We all knew why: out there he couldn't control the environment. The reason he gave for joining the group was that he needed chewing gum. After a big laugh, my mind envisioned Lane sitting at the zoo entrance chewing his gum while everyone else enjoyed the animals. Later, when I asked him what he thought of the gorillas he gave me a Lane-typical answer: he didn't.

"I don't think about gorillas. Never. And I never will. Gorillas don't mean a thing to me. And there's no reason why they should."

Later I asked if he had liked the Outing. He answered, "Yes. I got my gum and I enjoyed chewing it." I felt happy, but then he lowered the Lane boom. "Feeling isn't what's important. It's the truth. And the truth is that I didn't go on an Outing. I went to get gum."

The next time I knew not to buy him a zoo ticket.

On the way back, those Residents who remembered what they'd seen asked each other what animal they had liked best. When it was Lane's turn he didn't answer. Mind you, hehadstrolled around as the flavor of his gum diluted, but he hadn't gone to see the animals. The animals weren't part of his reality so they didn't exist. But to Sugar Loaf Residents time doesn't exist, so they waited for his answer. When the Taurus realized he was expected to answer, he finally said, "The woman." Only he and I knew that his answer referred to the lady who had sold him the Juicy Fruit. It was Benny's cabin all over again.

Occasionally Sugar Loaf Staff felt bad about placing a Resident on the Circuit list. They felt guilty about inflicting damage on another Health Care unit. Though he was sometimes impossible to get along with, we had learned to adjust to Lane Parsons and his egocentric paradigm. Not so some of the other facilities. I heard that Baron Courts demanded that he keep his bed clear during the days. We all know that brought fireworks.

One day Lane threw the heavily laden bed sheet through the window rather than see it on the floor. Other facilities had similar problems and were very outspoken at the Ten-Facility Meetings: We do not want Lane Parsons. The Sugar Loaf Administrators were never that adamant though they occasionally thought along similar lines, but when all the rooms were full and some Residents were more needy than Lane, we finally added him to the list. When that happened we felt we'd done the remaining facilities a disservice. On the other hand, it was a relief not to hear him tell me thirty-seven times a day that I didn't know how to sweep a room, just because it wasn't the way he wanted it.

Lane Parsons was, indeed, one of those rare people who are right even when they're wrong.