Man's Inhumanity to Man

Ah, the Lalaurie mansion. Stately French Quarter masonry which 150 years ago hid a grim secret the echos of which can be felt to this day. We mark places rife with great suffering and torment, venerate them, vilify them. In truth, we are fascinated by such evil. What does it take for a doctor and a debutante, pinnacles of the community, to go so horribly wrong? Is it circumstance or an inborn defect to cause such a blackening of the soul? Would we be capable of such atrocities? It may sound nihilistic, but I believe except for select few pure souls, everyone has within them the propensity for good and evil. For most, even percieved altruism isn't what it appears. Often it is only undertaken if it profits the person more than selfish inaction. We exist in a world of gray, treading an incredibly thin line between order and chaos, most going through life blissfully unaware they are standing mere steps away from the abyss.

The Majesty of Simplicity

The invention of the personal listening device has to be one of the greatest achievements of the last fifty years. Besides allowing me to translate my mood into notes and lyrics at the push of a button, it keeps me endlessly entertained no matter where I am. While I am never without a pen and notebook, there are times when even I don't want to read or write. This afternoon was one of them. Instead of lunch I sat on a bench under the shade of a tree, turned on the ipod, and watched the world. Humans are on the whole a lively bunch. For those of you expecting me to relate a bizarre or macabre happenstance, sorry to disappoint. It was a fairly average day with quirky behavior, odd fashion choices and even odder choices in traveling companions. Usually I maintain a stable pessimism, but days like this remind me to have a little faith in humanity as I observe life unfolding to the soundtrack of my choosing. Perfection in simplicity, beauty in chaos, and felicity in quiet moments on a busy afternoon.

Gone But Not Forgotten

If you have never had a reason to hang around a hospital after hours, I highly recommend the experience, especially if there is an abandoned hospital wing. Wheelchairs and gurneys discarded haphazardly in shadowy hallways. Hospital debris scattered about as rooms which once housed the sick and wounded stand dormant, husks of their former selves. Paper-cluttered nursing stations stoically waiting for humans to return, yearning for usefulness. And above it all are the noises, creaks and echoes slicing the deafening silence broken by the oppressive subtle hum as if so many souls experiencing the greatest joy or desperate tragedy left remnants behind long after the last orderly turned out the lights. I tarry a few extra minutes before responding to my incessant pager. Like so many of the forlorn and forgotten, perhaps all these shades roaming these halls are waiting for is someone to take the time to listen.

Evidence of Things Not Seen

I make it a point never to engage in arguments with drunks or fools, but I got suckered in the other day in spite of my better judgment. I'll admit, sometimes my belief that there is things in this world I can't see, touch, or otherwise quantify seems a little out there to certain people. Then again, given the prevalence of paranormal themed TV shows, many of which are reality shows, indicates I am far from alone in my views. I have witnessed some things I simply cannot explain, but I never expect others to acknowledge these as reality. Sometimes senses fail and perception isn't always truth. Instead of arguing the metaphysical, let me do what I love and tell a story.

There was once a young man, Tony, who grew up idolizing his older brother, Louis. Louis was two years older, handsome, witty and charming. His freshman year of high school he made varsity track able to run sprints with such speed he left the school's next nearest record holder in the dust. To Tony's young eyes, his brother was superman. He would follow him around like an adoring shadow and unlike some older brothers, Louis would let Tony tag along with his friends letting him go with them past curfew, sneaking him into the newest R-rated horror movie. Life was ideal for the brothers until one day Louis started to develop a cough. It was easy to overlook, easy to ignore, but as the days went by the cough got worse. Louis stopped going out with his friends, could not longer run on the track team the way once could. He started to seem paler, listless until one night he collapsed after dinner. Fearing the worse, his parents rushed him to the hospital. Tony stayed home with an aunt who lived down the block assuming it was just a bad case of the flu. The next morning his parents returned home, their eyes bloodshot and faces tear-stained. There was no sign of Louis. Tony kept asking and finally his father summoned the courage to sit his remaining son down and tell him the terrible news. Louis was sicker than anyone knew. The doctors did what they could, but he died shortly after arriving at the hospital. Tony was grief stricken. He merely felt numb, going through the motions as the relatives came and went trying to comfort the family. Arrangements were quickly made and Louis was laid to rest two days later. The afternoon of the funeral was stormy, wind howling through the trees and lightning crackling across the sky. The family gathered at the aunt's home after visiting the cemetery when someone noticed they forgot an apple cobbler in the refrigerator at Tony's house. Wanting a few minutes of solitude, Tony offered to run home and get it. The house was dark and empty save for the occasional burst of lightning and rumble of thunder as he walked down the front hall towards the kitchen. As the thunder retreated he could faintly make out a sound just above him on the second floor hallway. At first he dismissed it as the patter of the rain, but the thumps steadily grew stronger and louder until he could no longer ignore it. Swallowing his fear he cautiously climbed the front staircase, more certain than ever what he was hearing. There was someone running up and down the second floor hallway. As he reached the top of the stairs, his eyes strained in the dark, trying to make out a figure to explain what he was hearing. He saw nothing, but the sounds continued as the phantom sprinted up and down the floorboards. Without warning, a cold blast of air rushed past him, the footsteps abruptly racing down the stairs and towards the front door. When they reached the door, the finally disappeared, leaving Tony dumbfounded. He didn't wait, racing out into the storm and back to his aunt's house. It was decades before he told anyone what he experienced. At first he wasn't sure how to describe it and, later, he worried about what people would think. Tony grew up to be a strong young man, playing on his high school football team and joining the army, serving his country with distinction. However he never forgot the night he heard Louis running sprints around the house one final time. He keeps a picture of his brother with him to this days. He never heard the footsteps again.

Madness takes its toll...please have exact change

In penning a crash course in world vampire myths, I was reminded of a glaring fact common to all these tales. Vampires are certifiably insane. As if being undead wasn't enough, they are also obsessive-compulsive, prone to fits of unpredictable violence, and from time to time psychotic. Like so many of our myths, I think much of this stems from our basic human desire to explain that which we do not understand. Madness is a unique condition. It can strike anytime, anywhere and anyone. Most illness we can see and otherwise wrap our heads around, but a previously stable and normal member of the village suddenly spouting gibberish necessitates a supernatural explanation. There is a reason one of the few universal truths to all legends regardless of where they originated is that a suicide can become a vampire. Likewise, most cultures believe if you scatter seeds, rice or other small objects around a vampire they are compelled to pick them all up one by one. The poor souls who suffered from mental illness at a time when such a thing was a totally foreign concept were labeled as monsters. Do I believe this explains away vampires and other monsters entirely? I do not. The world wouldn't be the same without a little mystery. There is no reason why science and the supernatural cannot coexist. And here my 5th grade teacher thought I was wasting my time with all those books on monsters. Turns out, on some level, doctor and vampire hunter are closer than you think.

Heart of Darkness

I am on a true crime kick. Besides watching an obnoxious amount of shows like Law and Order and Criminal Minds, I have picked up not but a few books on serial killers. Many of them have striking similarities and one bears an uncanny resemblance to a young man I evaluated in the ER one night. I have talked to many patients who have a history of or a potential for violence, but this guy was different. I have never felt so unsettled except I couldn't pinpoint precisely why he caused me to feel this way. His macabre desires and compulsions were in their fledgling stages, preventing anyone in our profession from keeping him for more than a week or two at the most, however, I will not be surprised if I see his face one day on the news under whatever titillating moniker the press is calling him as they unearth another victim. I wonder in reading these books what the family and friends of those discovered to be serial or spree killers think. How must it be to raise a child or sleep every night in the same bed with a spouse only to one day face the heinous things they'd done. More often than not it seems the killer wants the spotlight, reveling in the glory of their own sociopathic joy, but the family is thrust into the limelight as well and in their darkest hour become social pariahs. How could you not have known? Wasn't there something which tipped you off? Why didn't you stop them? Let's face it...when it comes to our nearest and dearest, there is much we forgive or ignore for the sake of love or civility. Why should these families be any different than the rest of us? If everyone from cops to doctors to teachers interacts with these predators among us and they raise no red flags in even those trained to spot deviant behavior, what hope do their families have? I wonder sometimes if my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. Maybe that patient I saw was more benign than I remember and it is my overactive imagination filling in the gaps. Or maybe this is what should be seen at rare moments of vulnerability early in their criminal career. What few witness and even fewer appreciate. As with so much, only time will tell. I, for one, would lock my doors and don't trust anyone who comes knocking. Evil is insidious and most effective in a pretty, unassuming veneer. With that comforting thought, I wish you all pleasant dreams.

Stranger stop and cast an eye

I've been going through old pictures (back before the digital age) scanning them in so they don't disintegrate before my very eyes. I miss having the time to stroll around cemeteries and photograph. Cemeteries are serene and the odds of meeting other people there are lower than in other public places. It is partially why I go on vacation to New England in the early winter. I think part of me never liked sharing and was not happy when ordered to share with younger siblings. When it comes to alone time, I want true solitude. Empty beaches, surf angrily crashing into the sand, wind howling like a banshee is a zen experience. Cemeteries, while technically densely populated areas, contain their inhabitants under a thick layer of dirt making them ideal places to gather ones thoughts. In perusing these pictures I decided some people have an odd way of commemorating the deceased. Some are simple, containing one or two words. Some have eerie statues, hooded figures or sobbing women, immortalizing the passing of a loved one by reminding the passerby mortality is self-limiting. And then there are a few truly bizarre ones like the tomb with only the words, "She is not dead...she is just away." One of my favorites is the pyramid with the angel and sphinx on either side of the door. I like the Egyptian imagery. I can't put into words precisely why this tomb in particular is so captivating, but like any good art it sneaks its claws into you without warning or explanation. There are others which I find endearing, but for now this will have to do.