While working in an adolescent psychiatric setting, I learned from my boss, Joan Adams, LCSW, that individuals with Schizo- Affective Disorder are able to somehow affect the mood and mind of others. This week, while working on my new job, I learned that Ms. Adams was right and am convinced that my thought process somehow entered the mind of the doorman at 304 Park Avenue South in Manhattan.
I was somewhat skeptical of Ms. Adam’s take on the mind of the mentally ill. She is a little nuts herself, and the last person on earth who should be treating someone else who is deemed crazy by the wild psychiatric profession and the bible they use to take away the gun rights of others– the DSMV-IV.
Why Joan Adams’ words stick in my mind after all these years baffles me; it was as if I knew what she was saying was right, but I needed a first-hand experience to prove it.
The doorman at 304 Park Avenue asks for identification from all visitors who enter into that building. He sees me every day, and after three months of delivering paychecks to the high-and-mighty who work there, he no longer requires that I present a driver’s license. He has my name memorized. He has written it more than I have over the past several years,
While on my way across 23rd Street, I was remembering the paper route I had while still a boy. I was thinking of one particular old lady who lived along my route– Grace Hershey. Grace always made me smile. She said she no longer read her paper and subscribed to it only to see my face.
Grace, in her old age, started to lose her mind. When she wrote out checks every month to pay for her newspaper subscription, she often made the error of forgetting my name. On several occasions, she wrote the name Charles Daily instead of Charles Taylor.
I don’t know why I was thinking of Grace while on my way to 304 Park Avenue, but when I entered the building, the doorman said, “Go on up. I’ll write you on my log, Charles Daily.”