On the road again - Gun and Ammo Shop - Bucks County Mental Health / Poem: Enrico the Man

Little Mermaid meets her Prince

I am nothing if not xtraordinarily grateful for the return of my mobility after three months in bed with sciatica. I do feel however a little like The Little Mermaid who, in the original Hans Christian Andersen story, bargained with the Sea Witch so that when she was given a pair of real legs each step she took was so painful it felt like she were being stabbed by swords. My pain is not that bad.

Drove over to the Abington Gun and Ammo Shop which relocated 12 yrs ago to Willow Grove. I'd been there before out of curiosity but now I was going to ask them some questions in light of the Tucson Tragedy. I wanted to find out just how easy it was to buy a gun.

It was, like, frigging freezing outside so I wore my warm beret and winter jacket and scarf. I rested my bag of rolls from Weinrich's Bakery next door on the counter and began talking to one of two people who were inquiring about purchasing guns.

This fellow was a SEPTA bus driver. I told him my boyfriend worked as a SEPTA mechanic. Bus drivers are not allowed to carry weapons but this fellow likes to target shoot. He told me he was trained to de-fuse sticky situations on the bus such as someone getting on who'd had a "bad morning" and trying to start trouble w/the driver by saying I don't have enuf bus fare, all I have is a dollar fifty.

The driver is instructed to allow the person to board the bus to avoid confrontation.

Then big Frank, one of the gunshop owners, came over to me. I said I was wondering how easy it was to buy a gun and what the background check entailed.

He said you fill out a form and then they run the check.

Oh, I said, so I can't buy a gun the same day and I'd have to come back.

Frank corrected me. The background check is done by phone and only takes 20 minutes.

Modern technology!

Frank then shared some stories with me. One guy came in, spent a lot of time asking questions like where's the nearest shooting range, said he was gonna take lessons, and then he goes home and blows his brains out. Whoa! Who knew?

A couple yrs ago Frank was interviewed on NPR in a debate about the Brady Law. The Brady guy had his facts wrong. Frank corrected him on the air and the Brady dude apologized.

The best thing I've read about the Tucson Tragedy was published yesterday in Democracy Now. The head of NAMI Southwest was interviewed and talked about budget cuts in AZ which make it almost impossible for low income mentally ill to get decent help. The governor herself caved in due to pressure and signed the bill EVEN THO her own son is doing 20 years as a mental health offender who sexually assaulted a woman.

The head of NAMI national came out w/a statement about Tucson - ineffectual, as usual - so I was glad to hear they have an intelligent representative who talked to the press. His own son, once a brilliant young man, was destroyed by schizophrenia, and was later run over and killed by a drunk driver.

Looking down at the guns in the case they looked to me like toy guns but what do I know? I've only fired a musket at a fair and yes, the kickback, was quite something in my ear.

Then I went home and unloaded my...groceries...I am one of those people who is hellbent on going to the supermarket before a snowstorm. I love the excitement before the storm. Bought some cooked shrimp and made a delicious sandwich of shrimp salad on one of the Weinrich rolls. Man, I was in heaven. Here's how the snow looked around midnite:

My porch railing

I think those big white dots are snowflakes.

Okay, now it's time to visit the new head of Bucks County Office of Mental Health / Developmental Programs, Dawn Seader. What a nice lady who actually listened to my ideas. See, I have really good ideas but haven't been able to implement them.

My most recent crusade was to get the OpenAccess system of scheduling put in place at Creekwood Mental Health. I wrote an op-ed piece about this for the Intell which Dawn told me they actually circulated in their offices! Turns out Dawn and the County were looking into establishing OpenAccess at their three public mental health facilities and had succeeded in getting it started with full implementation scheduled for the end of January.

I was ecstatic and sent an email to the parents of Justin Hawkes, the young man from our group who died b/c he couldn't get a soon enough appt for his dreadful despair.

I shared w/Dawn some ideas I have like giving free classes on Bipolar management to all newly diagnosed patients (I suggested we make it a pilot program), having New Directions offer vocational services to our members, and asked her help on getting us more funding.

I also told her I used to work as a therapist at the now-defunct Bristol-Bensalem Human Services, once housed in an old elem. school, but newly incarnated into - what else - a housing development.

Driving by one day I asked myself What became of my clients? I miss you Darlene, Joanne, Ted, Lisa, Ed, John, Wendy.

I had these hardcore welfare recipients as clients and put em in a group. Within a couple weeks all of em were doing volunteer work instead of sitting around watching TV. The 'power of the group' inspired them to get off their duffs and participate in the world. Ted even got a real job. His daughter was handicapped and whenever he'd see someone parking illegally in a handicap zone he'd flip out and yell at them. I sometimes think of this when I put my handicap placard on my windshield and walk w/o limping from my car, o Ted, where art thou?

I'm working on a poem but I'm too scared to face it again. What does that mean? It's either real good or quite terrible.

When I was an Intake Worker at Bristol-Bensalem I wrote this poem about one of my clients.

ENRICO THE MAN

Enrico the man
strains forward in his waiting room chair
alert....scanning
as I
the intake worker at the mental health center
enter....scanning for Enrico
the man with a thousand voices in his head

You find me Enrico
and reel me in with your eyes
they are alive I notice
moist with expectation and desire
I call your name
then come up close
to see what's beyond your thicket beard
your ketchup stained coat
There will never be another moment like this Enrico
let's use it, you and I
to fathom each other
and find the other in our selves

We take our march down the hall
hallways interminable you have marched
I know that about you
know too that sometimes you have protested
more than is good for you
so they have pinned you down and tied you up
bruised you black and blue
they are like that Enrico
there is nothing we can do.
But here in my building
you come sedated with more Haldol
than any man I've ever known
unless it is a misprint
which is always a possibility
you get yours in the ass

Running your hands through your thinning hair
you tell me
you can't think
can't walk
can't pluck the strings on your blues guitar
Is it any wonder, by Christ?
If we had to
if we were ordered by the court
I wonder if we could siphon the stuff from your blood
cleansing you of every trace of Haldol
to produce the new you
the unadulterated Enrico.
I'd say doubtful.
Voices would drown you.

Your body lists to unseen beats
as you answer my questions with a quick arrhythmic flair
Any kids? I ask
I think I know.
A man like you
alert undimmed
has a rightful need to procreate.
A daughter, you say.
Born, but no longer seen.
I won't ask.
Won't satisfy my urge to know.
Besides I have an idea.
Conceived in that porous time
when you were passing from that life to this
from that shade of man to this
Your insides desperate for a planting
for green splendor, verdure soared
to affirm that you had been.

As I look up from my clipboard
at your narrowed eyes
your darkened brow
your dread look of comprehension
my body sags in sore surrender.
You know.

I see a house in the woods nearby
fallen askew
one ragged wall's intact that's all
and grips the mossy ground.
I gather the tall feathery grasses
that grow there in small protected families
and bring them home to arrange
on my windowsill.
They seem content
asking nothing
telling nothing
tilting toward the moon's plodding ascent.