Song of the Silent Snow (13 page)

Feb. 15 Dear Harold:

It was a nice visit, thank you for coming on Valentines Day. you look so handsome in your suit, and thats my favorite tie. Im so glad you wore it. I was really sorry when the visiting time was over, its always so sad to see all those people walking down the path to the cars and buses, we stay by the window when they let us and watch the visitors go. sometimes we stay there a longtime afterwards, they tell us its not good to do that, that we upset ourselves but its so hard to leave the window even after theres nobody there anymore. I watched a candy wrapper blow down the walk and across the street. I watched it all the way to the fence. I couldnt see if it went through the fence. Im still allowed to go to the open ward at night, now right after supper, we sit in the chairs and talk or just sit. I like the television too. there was some funny programs on last night, we laughed a lot. at least some of us did. I guess its not such a loud laugh but we do laugh, sometimes some ladies just sleep. I dont seem to be as sleepy as I was. Im only getting 2 little pills a day now. I hope you can visit soon. I miss you. its been so long since Ive seen you. I know its hard with kids yelling and screaming and running around, maybe in a bigger place, they wont upset you. are you feeling better?

Feb. 20 Dear Harold:

I was going to wait until your visit to tell you the good news but I cant wait so Im writing, theyre letting me out on the open ward during the day. I still have to come back here to the locked ward to sleep but during the day I can stay on the open ward, its sort of a trial basis and if Im good it will become permanent, isnt that wonderful? Im really excited, today was my first day. I walked around and its so nice, nobody was growling or screaming like those other ladies and there are chairs to sit in and books to read if you can stay awake, they have jigsaw puzzles too. And you can go to the bathroom any time you want to. anytime, and I am going to go to occupational therapy too. I promise not to make any more wallets or book marks, maybe just a new belt for Bobby. I know O.T. doesnt seem like much but its something to do to break the boredom, it gets so tedious, but they have something new theyre going to try starting next week, its some kind of writing class. I dont know what kind of writing but theyll provide all the supplies. I think lm getting better. I hope easter hurries up and gets here, maybe you can come see me soon.

Feb. 27 Dear Harold:

It seems like so long since We written, has it been? I havent kept track. I am looking forward to your visit, it will be good to hold hands though I must confess I feel embarrassed in the visiting room, youll look so sexy in your 3 piece suit and my favorite tie. and just like I promised Im doing everything they tell me and being real good. Im sure theyll let me home for easter maybe for a couple of days. Im really feeling stronger and stronger each day. I cant wait to see my little darlings and give them all a big hug and kiss, thousands of them, like I promised Im not doing any leather work, just needlepoint, and its not a home sweet home, its a nice picture of a kitten and a ball, youll like it when its finished, we can always give it to your mother for Christmas.

The writing class, its called OT-III-writing, is kind of fun. its co-ed and there was a lot of moving around as the men tried to get to sit near the pretty girls, and some of the girls did some moving around too. it looked like there was going to be fooling around all day for a while, but the woman leading the class got things under control fast enough, theres only about a dozen of us so its not too bad. some people read a few things and then we talked about writing something during the week and then reading it at the next class. I thought I'd write something about ice cream cones. I know it sounds silly but it might be fun. you know when you were a kid how you had to push the ice cream down right away without breaking the cone, and then how you had to lick the edges and be careful how you bit the cone, and how you kissed it up to God if you dropped it on the ground before you started eating it again, no matter how dirty it got. I think its a fun idea. What do you think? anyway, it gives me something to think about for the next week, how are you? I no I'll be seeing you soon.

March 7 Dear Harold:

I've been spending most of my time writing that piece about ice cream cones I mentioned to you. its so much fun. it brought back a lot of memories about my childhood and especially the summer time and the times we all went to the beach and Coney Island and the rides, it was a marvelous time of my life, so happy and carefree, nothing to do but run around and play games, we used to go to the park a lot when we were kids, you couldn't get a real ice cream cone there, but there was always an ice cream truck of some kind, usually a good humor. I remember there was always a breeze on the top of the hill, and I used to love the feel of the air on my face as I ran down the hill screaming and screeching, kids love to scream and screech dont they, but I was a good girl, I really was. I was quiet.

We had a good time at the writing class this week, we got down to work much faster this week and there was less maneuvering. It looked like a couple of them were playing a little more then kneesees in the back of the room, some people had written some things and read them and they were nice, one girl wrote a real nice poem and she let me copy it. Here it is.

I walk along a quiet shore, And look at the ocean still, Whilst thinking of the one I adore, And wondering does he love me still.

I close my eyes and kiss his hand, And bathe in the light of his eyes, And sink my feet into the sand And wonder where does his heart lie.

And then I know where heart and love Can blend and be soothing and warm, As I gaze into his face above, Then surrender into my lovers arms.

Isn't that nice? I guess its not a great poem, but I love it. it has such a nice feeling, we're all so lonely here. I've been really good, you can visit now, can't you?

March 9th Dear Harold:

I'm sorry you still cant get to visit. I no the kids bother you and you cant stand them but Im here, no kids, and Im being really good and doing everything Im told. Im sure I can get a pass for easter if you would come get me. probably the whole weekend, we could go some place alone. I could meet you. where would you like to go? I dont care, if we could just be together. I miss you so much, it seems like forever since I saw you. I wish you would hold me and everything, lots of fathers get upset by their kids. Ill make sure they wont bother you. we wont see them, just the two of us for the whole weekend, we could be happy, if you could just write. O I hope easter comes early this year.

Mar 14 Dear Harold:

Im in the writing class and cant stop crying and Im afraid to let them see me or theyll put me back in the locked ward and I dont want to go back there I cant let them see me cry but I cant seem to stop. I want so much to see you I miss you so much and the doctor said I shouldnt go home for easter but should wait a while maybe next month when the weathers nicer and I was looking forward to being with you and snuggling in your arms and everything but now they wont let me out even for a day and if they see me crying I just know theyll put me back in that ward. O I wish you could come see me or write or something now instead of worrying about those little monsters whore always interfering in everything O just let us be alone for a second and no matter where they are it could be a hundred miles and they would no it and come running to make sure we dont have any time together. O I know they chased you away but what about my attention? I cant get out to even take a walk and you cant come to visit, and in the writing class when I started to read my peace I only got to read about a page when one of the men started yelling and screaming at me that I had no right to write such silliness when children all over the world were starving and dying like flies and all kinds of horrible things he said to me and accused me as if I were some sort of monster and Im trying to be so good I honestly am Im even eating all the food. I love my children honest honest true I love them and dont want them to go to a home or some place O I wish I could stop crying. I dont want them to see me crying so Im trying to write something for the class pretty soon itll be dark in the tv room and no one will see my eyes I cant let them know Ive been crying O harold please where are you please

SYLVIA WILSON O.T.-III WRITING

MY RETURN TO LOWELL STATE HOSPITAL

I had spent 7 months here between 1978 and 1979. when I left I said I hope I would never have to return again, not knowing that god has ways that we become sick to the point that only hospital care would be the only way out. In august of this year my children and myself were living in Sheepshead bay on welfare. I was told to go to court because my husband was back on payments toward our support, not that this has anything to do with this but it seemed that my voices started with a court house, one week after going there I started to hear voices that seemed to be having a large court session on all the past friends and people that I had known from a little girl, hearing their voices and debating on putting me in a institution, for things that I was falsely being accused of. these voices continued night and day for about three weeks and then it ceased, then there was a group of men and women who said they were a hired mind readers organization speaking to me mental telepathy and had picked my mind up on the beach, they were telling me we had only until xmas to live and to either commit suicide or they will come up on xmas eve in santa clause uniforms and kill us. so through the strain of it all for my childrens sake I gave up and came willingly back to lowell state hospital for my cure, the voices remained with me for 2 or 3 weeks and then they just politely walked out of my life, the peace and quiet is wonderful. I hope they dont come back. O please dont come back.

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Indian Summer

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The sky was cloudless and blue, the air warm, crisply clear. The previous few days had been prematurely cool, but today was the kind of day you dream of all through a hot humid summer of stifling subways, burning pavements and faulty air conditioners. And it was Sunday. He could just sit around and read the Times and later watch the Jets game.

Yes, a truly marvelous day. And for New York a rare one. You dont get too many days like this where the air is so clear and clean you feel as if you could rub it between your finger tips. He breathed deeply as he left the newsstand with his Times, and stopped for a moment to enjoy the sky and the relaxed quiet of the morning, thinking of the day of leisure that awaited him.

He glanced at the newspaper and smiled as he anticipated sitting in their small backyard and going through the many bulky sections, looking forward with eagerness to reading the sports pages now that the football season had begun. And too, an occasional can of cold beer wouldnt dim his spirits any. He breathed deeply again and smiled as he looked up and down the tree-lined street. It sure will be good to relax after the hectic week . he just put in. That damn Goodwin account is enough to drive anyone batty. But he wasnt going to think about that now. Not on a day like this. Thats how you get ulcers. No, he was just going to relax and take it easy and leave that for tomorrow. Monday morning will come soon enough. It always does.

I wonder if we should go for a drive? The countryside will be lovely with the trees changing colors and the fall flowers blooming. Bet it would be beautiful in Connecticut, and we could stop at a nice restaurant and have dinner. Im sure Ethel would like that. Give her a chance to get out of the kitchen, and Suzie likes riding in the car - bouncing the Times against his hip as he walked - but the damn road will be packed with Sunday drivers and we would probably hit one traffic jam after another. No, I guess it would be better to just forget the whole thing and spend a nice quiet day at home. Actually Sunday is really a day to spend at home with the family, and he did not want to miss the Jets game, hoping Ethel would not say anything about being a football widow.

When he got home his wife was just finishing the breakfast dishes. He put an arm around her waist as he kissed her on the cheek. Its a beautiful day.

Yes, I know. I was out back for a few minutes before. Makes you feel like doing something or going somewhere.

Yeah, I suppose it does, but what it really makes me want to do is sit in the sun with the Times and a beer. After all, I have to be well rested if Im going to do a good job at the office. He smiled at his wife and kissed her again, then put the paper on the table and took a can of beer out of the refrigerator. Wheres Suzie?

In her room.

O. Shes so quiet I thought maybe she was in the yard.

No. Shes playing with her coloring book. Ethel dried her hands and hung up the towel. You know Harry, it might be a good idea if you took Suzie to the park later. Maybe while Im fixing dinner you can take her to the playground.

Gee, I dont know honey. I was planning on taking it easy today. I put in a rough week and I have another one in front of me.

I know, darling, but it would be nice if you could.

Well, we/ll see what happens.

He started to go out to the yard when Suzie came out of her room. We going to the park, daddy?

Maybe later, sweetheart - patting her on the head.

On the swings?

We/ll see, honey. Maybe later. Right now daddy has something to do - still patting her on the head - maybe in a little while. Suzie looked up at him for a moment then went back to her room.

Harry went out into the yard and moved his chair so it was in the sun and started reading the paper. Whether or not he took Suzie to the playground wasnt a matter of life or death. She did look a little disappointed, but it wasnt that important. And that damn Goodwin account. And anyway, its still early. He could always take her later, after he read at least part of the paper and relaxed for a while. There/d be time before dinner. Perhaps he should spend a little more time with her alone. He really didnt spend too much time with her and lately she was almost ready for bed by the time he got home. Of course that wasnt his fault, but still... when was the last time he took her to the park? Well, after all thats not really my responsibilty. Harry continued reading, vaguely aware of the sound of voices coming from the house.