Fixations

In the forty-plus years I worked at Sugar Loaf, I found that a large number of the Residents experienced similar conditions and can, therefore, fit into Miscellaneous. Not all were as clear-cut as T. Talbot who repeated everything thrice, Tommy MacInvey who had CP, Carey Delmar who couldn't say no, or Lane Parsons who left everything on his bed because of egocentric paradigm, or Magdelena Orestia Bococi the mob girl. Everyone had a reason for being at Sugar Loaf, some condition that kept them from functioning successfully whether it was an obvious or hidden malady. A good case in point is Samuel.

Samuel, for whatever reasons, got hung up on cell phones. At first he used his father's. Later he got his own and so loved it that he eventually got two. He proudly strutted down the hall carrying both like six-shooters on his holstered hips. Samuel went through the gamut of payments from subscribing to different systems, to different phone cards, to having his father pay the bills. These took care of the many calls he made, but it caused problems whenever you wanted to speak with him. Samuel, you see, used the phones as a vehicle to keep him from dealing with the reality in front of him. So when you wanted to speak with him, he'd whip out a phone and dial a number. Any number. The time, the weather, check his calls, or contact the operator. Who or what he called was not important. What was important was doing something, anything, so he wouldn't have to deal with you.

Another interesting fellow was Sylvester. He escaped the immediate by using the Walkman. I am convinced that this invention is a Godsend for millions, for everyone from those who want simple entertainment to the long-distance runner who wants company or to keep his mind from wandering. I suspect there are even a few students who use them to learn. But like all such devices, the Walkman can also be used to help one escape. At this, Sylvester was a master. Haven't we all been exposed to those who feel utterly imposed upon when we ask them for the time or which way to the library? I'm sure that to them we are being as rude to them when we ask them a question as we feel they are to us by ignoring our queries. I've found that many Sugar Loaf Residents see life as one big imposition: try to break into their private space and you've violated a God-given freedom.

Cindy's specialty was jigsaw puzzles. The elderly lady spent most of her waking hours staring at pieces, glancing at the picture box, fumbling around trying every angle of every piece whether it was the same color as the one she was trying to fit it into or not. When some people work puzzles they begin by putting the flat border pieces together first in order to know its boundaries. Others work the predominant focus in the puzzle first: a sailboat, church, animal. Only when they have that finished do they tackle the large sections: the same-colored water, sky, or mountainous background. Cindy did neither. Her system was to pick up piece after piece at random and place it anywhere on the card table. This meant that it took her infinitely longer to complete a puzzle than it does you or me. I noticed, for instance, that she worked on the same three-hundred-piece puzzle for seven and a half months. This really blew my mind until I realized that getting the puzzle completed was not what the woman was after.

With Cindy, the monkey theory fits well here: that if you put a million

monkeys at a million typewriters for a million years, one WILL write the play, "Hamlet." Likewise, after the thousands upon thousands of attempts, the woman finally did finish her puzzle. That's after eight hours a day, seven days a week, non-stop. I thought I sensed a nuance of madness in the seventy year-old, but that might have been a projection of my bewilderment. Because after a moment of realizing there were no more single pieces in front of her and she tore the complicated puzzle to its parts and started all over again, I realized what she was all about. Sitting at her card table was Cindy's life. It was all she could do. Or chose to. The never-ending piece-trying occupied her time. What I learned was the Resident never wanted to finish a puzzle, she just wanted to diddle with them. To her, diddling justified her existence.

Prentiss was the opposite. He was so restless he could never find enough things to do. I'm convinced if you placed in front of him tasks that would occupy his 24-7-365, at the end of each day he would be convinced he hadn't done a thing. His doing-doing-doing was the fetish of a restless mind, unstable nervous system, and hypermetabolism. Unlike placid Cindy, Prentiss was never satisfied. His was a case where medication helped neutralize his shorted-out electrical system. Tranquilized, he still worked all day every day, but it was without the restless tension and dissatisfaction. I swear that man stacked more dishes, more boxes, more trash bags, and rearranged the books in the library more than all the cooks, stock boys, garbage men, and librarians in New York City combined.

Mary spent the majority of her time staring at her left ankle. Everyone expected that immediately after it was put in a cast, but not year after year. A decade before I met the woman, she had a whole pile of bad karma strike her left ankle. An infection that virtually dissolved her cartilage, torn ligaments that never seemed to heal, tendons that lost their footing so

the appendage never followed the leg properly, and finally a devastating fracture --- more like pulverization --- when a car rolled over it in a freak accident. For ten years the woman sat on her rocker, staring at that ankle as if it were the culprit of her every malady. And to Staff it seemed so: at least the focal point of her mishaps because the rest of he body functioned well. In time, the repeated mishaps affected her mind. Every time she stared at that ankle you'd think it was for the first time. She stared in disbelief, almost as if the longer she stared the greater the chance of it getting better. I don't know how long dear Mary spent half bent over with eyes fixed, but I do know it was for over twenty years. Amazing how stuck the mind can get.