Quasi

Quasimodo was Victor Hugo's disfigured creation in his great book,The Hunchback of Notre Dame. We know the starring creature because American film makers have learned that the grotesque makes money. But whether the author used the bell ringer to make a political statement or producers to fill their bank accounts, the lesson underlying them is that uglies take center stage whether it is world-wide or in isolation. So it was with Judith B. of the Sugar Loaf Health Center.

Most laymen don't know much about Bi-polar, Mongoloid, Organic, or Brain Syndrome. Perhaps more familiar with the terms cleft palate, severely retarded, and web-footed, still these are just words unless one witnesses them in their fellow man. Or woman. Isn't it true that not until you look a person with these and other abnormalities straight in the face that you feel anything?

I must admit that when I first saw Judith I winced inside. I doubt that this was unusual, for most of us need time to get used to something until the first impression wears off. Which is certainly what happened when I first saw this disfigured creature. Though not hunchbacked, the out-and-out ugliness of the woman made chills run through my entire nervous system. She was so disfigured the first thing that jumped into my mind was Quasimodo's statement, "I'm as ugly as the man in the moon." Because of that, I knew I couldn't call her Quasimodo: everyone would have known who I was talking about. But Quasi --- that was a nickname

unrecognizable by most so it could pass in public.

I am not going to describe Judith B. except to say that she was so ugly that I refused to let my children see her. Who needs more stimuli than present-day horror movies to bring on nightmares? We all know that Hollywood uglies are innocuous because they're made up, just like characters in books. Butreallivefreaks can scare the real live Hell out of little kidsandadults. Please note: while I've repeated my missive that I am not making fun of the retarded, it is also the case that I am not being politically incorrect to shock you. I'm just calling it the way I see it, and this contorted human really was as freakish as your worst nightmare.

Let me put it this way: If you put a blindfold over your eyes, or a bag over Quasi and a sheet over her body, the average person might think her grunts and groans were a foreign language and they'd accept her. But, unveiled, only God Himself could be held responsible for the effect on the innocent onlooker!

As it turned out, T. Talbot was made Judith's roommate. The Sugar Loaf Administrators sensed that T.'s mother-hen, controlling nature and the Mongoloid's vulnerability would mix well, and they were right. T. took Quasi under her wing and demanded that not one derogatory word be said about her friend. Not one. Ever. And because sharp-tongued T. exercised her iron in triplicate, no oneeverbadmouthed Judith. T. guaranteed that her roommate be seen as any other Resident and is one example of peer pressure being beneficial. The result of T.'s protection was that once the Residents accepted her, Judith felt relaxed. And I must admit that once the shivering novelty of the Mongoloid wore off, I had tothinkabout how ugly the woman really was.

Naturally, whenever we took Judith on an Outing we put her in the back of the bus where no one could see her, though usually she didn't go on

excursions. Only when we didn't want outsiders to bother us did we put her in the front seat. It's a strange thing about human nature: though we are repulsed by ugliness, still, we are drawn to it. So even though people usually avoided the Sugar Loaf Bus because they knew it carried what they called weirdo's, many times I noticed that they gave that head-jerkingnonlook to see if what they saw was real. One nonlook was enough.

Quasi was at home on the facility grounds. Because her hips, knees, and ankles didn't function exactly the way ours do, she had to use a walker and sometimes a wheelchair. More than once I sensed these were modern versions of something out of Dickens --- a ghost, convict, or escapee from an insane asylum clanking chains as he crept through eerie fog. For everyone at the Health Center knew ten minutes before she arrived that Judith B. was coming down the hall. And when the legs of the walker didn't send out their characteristic thud, Quasi's leg braces gave off their tell-tale squeak. No matter where the Mongoloid was or what she was doing, we all knew her whereabouts.

The only time trouble brewed was when a new Resident signed in, one not used to the Specter of Quasi. Newcomers are invariably on edge by nature, and if the first thing they saw was our resident gargoyle, they sometimes flipped. More than one New Arrival had to be sedated before being wheeled to his room. As far as visitors were concerned, they usually came with some forewarning: "Don't be surprised byanything you see." I think most visitors expected to see freaks and zombies and the insane screaming and yanking out their hair, so when they actually saw Quasi, they'd already dealt with half the horror. But half of Quasi was still too much for the thin-skinned.

I include Judith B. in this profile for the same reason I introduce every other Resident: to show that no matter how disfigured a person might be,

physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, he truly is a human being like every other human being. For under all that incredible exterior, Judith laughed, cried, enjoyed Christmas, swooned when she heard soothing music, loved to eat, and always felt better after a shower or getting her hair washed. Inside she really was just like all of us.

As one Staff said when she was waxing philosophical, "Hasn't every thinking person asked at least these questions?: Is there a reason for being on earth? If so, is it to learn some lesson? Or to help others learn their lessons? Or is it to play out some past karma? Or see what actions we'll perform that will set up our future karma?" In my somber moods I've wondered if the reason He creates Quasi's is because the Almighty loves variety. If everyone were the same, maybe life on earth would be so drab it would be worse than Hell itself.

With Judith B., it seems that whatever the reason for her conditions, the adage holds: shun nothing, expose yourself to everything, for every time you turn our back, you miss what's in front. In deference to Miss B., I would add that even when the face before us is as ugly as the man in the moon, something inside may be as beautiful as a rose.