Thread the Needle.

Several years back, at the end of my teen years, some friends and I decided to take a visit to the campus of a supposedly "haunted," abandoned residential institution for the physically and mentally disabled that has been shut down for almost two decades in upstate New York (It was shut down due to patient neglect amongst other unmentionable horrors. Sounds like a huge loss, bad publicity, and an even worse legacy). Although it was trespassing, there was little incentive to keep the curious adolescent away from the sprawling, lush grounds.

As my friends and I walked the paths and noticed details like the unlit lampposts that lined the paths, and the smaller buildings that must have been used for purposes other than housing the residents, our curiousity got the best of us. We spotted one small building about the size of a shed. The only thing keeping us out was a thin sheet of plywood. Nothing a crowbar couldn't fix.

We went inside with our flashlights, and found something shocking and disturbing.
One room was filled with cardboard boxes containing envelopes upon envelopes of personal, detailed medical logs.

I picked one out of a box in the dark at random, and took it home as a souvenir.
The resident's name was Ms. Katz, obviously an elderly Jewish woman.
It detailed at least a few months of her personal life, her activities, her well-being, etc.

One quote I can paraphrase from memory was "Ms. Katz went outside today, sat on the bench, and enjoyed the sunshine." Another line was indicating that she was not feeling well, and that her activity level had dropped.

Ironically, a few weeks back, I wasn't feeling too kosher.
Frankly, I was feeling extremely depressed, had no energy, and had trouble taking care of myself.
It was a victory for me to step outside and relax on the porch for a few hours, enjoying the sunshine and the summer breeze.

In other words, Ms. Katz and I ended up having more in common than I ever would have thought.


I am thoroughly reinvigorated.

*Real camels don't smoke. Neither do smart people.