But HeLooksNormal

Through the years, the Sugar Loaf Health Center has housed every kind and type of personality, character, and mental disorder in the books. Even the criminally insane who didn't last past their first act of violence and the out-and-out vegetables who were sent to nursing homes as soon as they turned blue and needed intensive care around the clock. Other than those temporary cases, the majority of our cases were ambulatory, the walking wounded.

We also dealt with almost every degree of mental illness, from the illiterates who were never in touch with reality to college graduates who appeared in every respect to be just as normal as you or me until a fuse blew and they went ballistic. Howard Curtis was one of these: a college graduate with a high IQ and an All-American boy. I knew Howard for nearly two years and constantly wondered why he wasn't on Sugar Loaf Staff instead of a Resident. I never witnessed a single fit of violence which he was subject to and was splattered throughout his records. In fact, he never exhibited the least sign of irrational behavior. Then one evening, when I was off duty watching a NFL game on TV, I got an urgent call saying Howard had exploded.

Every Administrator knows Eric Hoffer's wisdom, that when the Devil's on the street, the wise man bolts his door. More specifically, when trouble's brewing, the wise Administrator hangs up the Do Not Disturb sign, tells his secretary he's in a meeting, takes his phone off the hook, and

leaves the office to play golf. How many bosses have blessed the inventor of the phone-answering service that allows him to monitor calls so he can decide if he wants to answer! I listened not to the message relaying Howard's fit but to the tone of the caller. Obviously she was so taken back by the Resident's behavior she'd forgotten to follow with the normal procedure during such emergencies: isolate the Resident if possible, let him blow it off, sedate if safe, call for emergency help that's close by. But don't call me! I live six miles from the Center so I can't do a thing. The facility would be burned to the ground before I got out of my driveway. But instead of reminding the Med Aide, I just ignored the call and watched Bret Farve do his thing on the tube. I'd pick up the pieces tomorrow.

Pieces, indeed. Pieces of glass, wood splinters, torn sheets, ceiling lamps dangling from hot wires. Howard had gone on one of the most dramatic binges in Sugar Loaf history. When the Sheriff and ambulance finally reached the Center, Howard was at his zenith; he was destroying everything his eye fell on with a stout mop handle. With an accurate shot of a tranquilizer gun and a straight jacket, they removed the Resident without harming him or hurting anyone else. After that, I understand he made the rounds in the psychiatric circuit, not Sugar Loaf's.

Medication has proven a great stop-gap measure for severe cases. But when an individual goes two or three years with no sign of his illness recurring, he gets lazy and Staff wonders if all the close monitoring is necessary. Doesn't this guy really belong at home where his living expenses will be far less? But with Howard we relearned the most predominant cause for outbreaks at Sugar Loaf: Residents getting off the regularity of their Meds. I found this to be the case with every mishap from epileptic seizures to migraines. Of course nowhere else was it so evident in those who reacted violently such as Howard Curtis, unless

maybe it was Flora on the bus on my first Outing.

After Howard left, I tried to figure the whole thing out: this normal-looking man with his hidden-agenda syndrome and the overly-simplistic conclusion I arrived at was that we are all individuals, each with his own quirks, which means that there is no such thing as normal or a general, all-encompassing reality: each has his own reality. And the only way to deal successfully with people is to get under their skins and work from the inside out. As the reader can easily see, in this respect Sugar Loaf is no different from "real life." When we try to impose blanket rules because we expect everyone to act the same, all Hell can pay. Better to have our wits about us and forget stereotypes and deal with people as they really are: each different. If we don't do that, lumping masses together just creates misunderstanding and strife. At Sugar Loaf we gave individuals medication suited to their individual needs, of course, and when they didn't take them their underlying illnesses invariably predominated. Likewise, shouldn't we give every human the medication of choice: that is, enough outlets for his energy, choices of entertainment, purposeful work, and so on? Also, we must make certain he always gets choices lest he turn into an animal.

I've tried to keep from waxing philosophical in this work, but after several decades and thousands of individuals, it's impossible not to see an overview and offer suggestions. In keeping with that, I take my hat off to all people who have learned their capabilities, strengths and weaknesses, their talents, their dispositions, and have learned to perceive the needs of others and act accordingly. These people, who are in all countries at all times, have learned to get out of their little egos and see themselves in relation to the world community and to all humanity. Whether they work in ditches or kitchens or classrooms or courts, they are the helpers of

mankind by not hindering the individual. Glory to all such people.

As for Howard Curtis and so many like him, just because he looked normal obviously did not mean he didn't harbor pent-up tornadoes inside. So if there's one lesson to be learned, it's that we must all be vigilant all the time. Because even dormant volcanoescanblow.