The Nervous Hospital

My mother was convalescing, getting shock treatments and taking armloads of drugs within the confines of what looked like one of those "movie set" antebellum mansions in Memphis, Tennessee. We had to get all dressed up and drive for miles to see her. And once we got there, waited for hours on the veranda, under striped, cloth awnings. My little sister and I were surrounded by chain smoking junkies and disturbed patients all trembling in their pajamas and terry cloth robes. The shuffle of houseshoes mingled with the screams and howls coming from inside the mansion hospital. And we waited.

I once followed a cat around the corner of the mansion hospital. Crawling under steps in the back, scuffing the knees of my Sunday best suit, I found a nest of kittens. All feral. Even the animals were crazy there.