The Tribulation of Stanley Wakefield
Back in my days at the Institution
I knew this guy with an extra chromosome
in each molecule of his DNA.
He had the condition "Down's Syndrome"
as it's now commonly known
He must have been around fifty years old at the time
He had fine thin white hair and soft fleshy skin
with loose, floppy jowls that jiggled when he laughed
He was always laughing when I first knew him
He had such a great laugh
from way down deep in his belly
A big loud laugh...yet gentle 'cause his voice was so soft
like an old woman's voice...or a little girl's
though he only would laugh...he never talked
He had a goofy kind of dignity
like an eccentric aristocrat
He like to dress in a bathrobe of many coloured stripes
with a matching night cap sort of waist length toque for a hat
He was a strange saintly clown
with a great silent sense of humour
a comically quaint little genius of fun
He was like a fat little laughing buddha
A round-faced pot bellied joy of a man
Stanley didn't speak words
but he could transmit emotion
more eloquently than anyone I'd ever met
I could tell by the slightest twitch of his smile
what kind of entertainment he felt like next
Stanley loved it when I would play ball with him
(he had one of those big red rubber institutional balls...
like the kind I remember we used to play murder ball with in school)
I remember it all so well even now
He would waddle up to me and hold out his ball
As soon as I took it he'd start to laugh
He would open his mouth in a huge toothless smile
then he'd begin to chuckle...really soft
and then his whole flabby body would start to shake
as he distorted his flexible so-called Mongoloid face
into an expression of absolute joy
and I felt as if I had been blessed with Grace
Sometimes we'd spend hours bouncing that ball
I'd wave my arms
do a few cartwheels - SHOUT!!!
and leap into a wheelchair
spin it in circles and pop wheelchair wheelies
all the while trying to bounce the ball back and forth
If I missed or flipped over he'd laugh like crazy
I missed a lot...
it was so much fun just to watch Stanley laugh
then I'd deke him out...sneak up and tickle his armpits
and he'd laugh 'til I thought he'd pee his pants
Then one day the almighty word came down
from the behavior modification regime
and the forces of "normalization" decreed
that we had to take Stanley's bathrobe away
They made us lock it in a closet along with his cap
They said it wasn't "appropriate" to wear it all day
They allowed him to keep his big red rubber ball
but without his robe
he didn't want to play anyway
I watched Stanley transform
from the happiest human I knew
into a wretch filled with anguish and utter despair
He no longer laughed like a lunatic clown
Maybe that was more normal
but it sure as hell wasn't fair
Stanley would stand by the locked closet door
and he'd bang his poor inarticulate head
He was so miserable without his favorite outfit
that he banged his bald forehead until it bled
Finally I couldn't stand it anymore
so I liberated Stanley's colourful clothes
I opened the door to the dormitory
then I snuck Stanley in there and gave him his robe
He blinked at me in disbelief
There were two rivers of tears streaming down his cheeks
He sniffled and a small smile spread across his face
as the flow of tears slowed into two shiny streaks
I bounced the ball toward Stanley
and almost caught him by surprise
but he caught it and paused for a moment...as if to say
"What took you so long for crying out loud?
Why did you people who all dress in white take my robe away?"
I felt so guilty
How could I tell him "I was just doing my duty"?
How could I explain that I didn't agree with the rules?
that I thought the Ward Supervisor was a sadistic control freak?
and that the Rehab Practitioners were a bunch of bureaucrat fools?
Then Stanley began to chuckle softly
There was a curious edge to his gentle voice
He bounced the ball hard back to me
He frowned as he laughed
furrowed his eyebrows
and made a mad face
Then he threw his head back and laughed out loud
as if to say, "It's okay...I forgive you"
That was twenty-five years ago and I've yet to meet anyone
with as generous a spirit as Stanley Wakefield
So to all you manipulative behavior control freaks
who presume to be authorized to teach others how to behave
You might learn a thing or two from people like Stanley
Look deep into your own soul if you need one to save
© 2006 Gary Lee