Road to Elk Mills
In the summer and fall of 1980, I spent an hour each week for twelve weeks undergoing psychological counseling and attitude modifications. I was supposed to be there for 15 weeks, but by the end of three months I had the staff and counselors properly trained, so I gave them a break the last three sessions.
It all began with a simple IQ test at the employment office, and wound up with me as a 36 year-old college freshman. After the IQ test, they asked me to go through a two-week battery of mental dexterity and physical proficiency tests for eight hours each day. On the first day I was placed among adults whom had Down's Syndrome, making paper poppies to be sold by disabled veterans. I probably learned as much about human spirit, kindness, and ingenuity in that one day than I had in all my previous years; it was the most humbling experience of my life. On the second day, the actual aptitude tests began, and it went from the ordinary placing round blocks in square holes to adding a super-long list of numbers using an old fashioned key-and-lever type adding machine that printed to paper tape. It took almost a half hour to add 'em all up and I didn't make a mistake, which impressed my advisers to no end. Believe me, there were so many digits to count that it was pure luck on my part. Next came a tub which contained a bunch of small water pipes of varying diameters and lengths along with reducers and other fittings. It was my job to screw them all together to form a large square with a crossing of pipes in the center. I had that days work knocked out in less than 45 minutes; I was an electrician and was used to working nearly everyday with conduit and fittings; piece of cake! All of these and the other jobs/tests were supposed to take from two to four hours each to complete and I ended up doing the entire two weeks work in well less than five days. They said it was a record for the books; all I wanted to do was get out of there each day and and go to the beer joint.
Why was I sent for psychological counseling? Somewhere along the line they figured out I really didn't give a shit about much of anything, so they were bound and determined to make an alpha male of me; I was to be a leader instead of a passive non-follower. They gave up after 10 weeks, but had me come back for two more sessions just to collect the state money. I did wind up in college where I wasted a few semesters learning to write stuff like this and doing a bit of photography; it was a pleasant experience for the most part. One day I was forced to make a choice between beer and education, so I adjourned to the bar to think it over. I do have a few regrets about not finishing college, but smoking dope, drinking beer, and hanging with my friends seemed important at the time. Now, most of my friends have moved on to the next world, I cannot afford to buy dope, and for some reason the beer just isn't as good as it was when shared with people I cared about.
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Yesterday's title quote is from the movie Victor Victoria.
In the summer and fall of 1980, I spent an hour each week for twelve weeks undergoing psychological counseling and attitude modifications. I was supposed to be there for 15 weeks, but by the end of three months I had the staff and counselors properly trained, so I gave them a break the last three sessions.
It all began with a simple IQ test at the employment office, and wound up with me as a 36 year-old college freshman. After the IQ test, they asked me to go through a two-week battery of mental dexterity and physical proficiency tests for eight hours each day. On the first day I was placed among adults whom had Down's Syndrome, making paper poppies to be sold by disabled veterans. I probably learned as much about human spirit, kindness, and ingenuity in that one day than I had in all my previous years; it was the most humbling experience of my life. On the second day, the actual aptitude tests began, and it went from the ordinary placing round blocks in square holes to adding a super-long list of numbers using an old fashioned key-and-lever type adding machine that printed to paper tape. It took almost a half hour to add 'em all up and I didn't make a mistake, which impressed my advisers to no end. Believe me, there were so many digits to count that it was pure luck on my part. Next came a tub which contained a bunch of small water pipes of varying diameters and lengths along with reducers and other fittings. It was my job to screw them all together to form a large square with a crossing of pipes in the center. I had that days work knocked out in less than 45 minutes; I was an electrician and was used to working nearly everyday with conduit and fittings; piece of cake! All of these and the other jobs/tests were supposed to take from two to four hours each to complete and I ended up doing the entire two weeks work in well less than five days. They said it was a record for the books; all I wanted to do was get out of there each day and and go to the beer joint.
Why was I sent for psychological counseling? Somewhere along the line they figured out I really didn't give a shit about much of anything, so they were bound and determined to make an alpha male of me; I was to be a leader instead of a passive non-follower. They gave up after 10 weeks, but had me come back for two more sessions just to collect the state money. I did wind up in college where I wasted a few semesters learning to write stuff like this and doing a bit of photography; it was a pleasant experience for the most part. One day I was forced to make a choice between beer and education, so I adjourned to the bar to think it over. I do have a few regrets about not finishing college, but smoking dope, drinking beer, and hanging with my friends seemed important at the time. Now, most of my friends have moved on to the next world, I cannot afford to buy dope, and for some reason the beer just isn't as good as it was when shared with people I cared about.
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Yesterday's title quote is from the movie Victor Victoria.
6 comments:
I knew you were a gem.
I wish I could write half as lovely as you and am glad that you keep me entertained.
Thanks, Tammy. :-)
Write with your heart; your head just gets in the way. ;-)
Very interesting. The talented Mr. Anderson. Write and self publish your book.
Thanks, Mark.
More effort than talent. :)
ypu sound just like me. Too much negative thought I assure you. You do have talent.
I suppose a little bit of talent is in me somewhere, but making myself do something with it is the problem. Thanks for the encouragement, Mark.
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