My Friend Tim

If "What Passes for Crazy" had a poster child it most certainly could be my old hometown friend Tim, who, like, died, eleven years ago, right after Thanksgiving early in his 40's..

Tim was one of those 1970's teenage kids from a rich home who spilt - or nowadays he would be thought as a "throwaway kid". His parents institutionalized him at the private psychiatric hospital, Riveredge, known for it's teenage population. Back in those days, there were very few diagnostics, and psych med pills, and more talk therapy. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Tim was admitted for God knows what, a "problem child", "mania", or just plain "acting crazy". But Tim was having none of it. He got out of the Hospital, and before his parents could catch up with him, he became homeless Chicago city man, surviving on Day Work jobs, cheap wine, and pills.

"Crazy" was his favorite word. All the way from Beat, "That's crazy, man" to just plain, "it was crazy, you should have seen it, it was classic."

If he were alive right now, he'd say, "yeah, Joan, I guess you're a good person to write about "it", since you've know so many crazy people in your life." "And seen so many crazy things too,, Tim" "Yeah, that too, join the club." and he'd laugh his mirthless laugh, which was more like an evil giggle. Tim had beautiful soft light green eyes, that he could role around in his head for effect, but looking at them, you knew he was the sanest person alive living in a world where the designations were to the sane, but nobody looked to the insane for answers. (to be con't)

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