in his truck

I am back at work now, searching for minds -- where they are, what makes them, and watching how they get stuck.

My list is all backed up. I put it on the phone machine that I am not taking any new people. That just means I get calls with people giving reasons justifying why I should see them.

One such call came from a woman who I had seen about twelve years ago. She was calling for her husband, a guy who we could not get to come to see me then. She was very worried about him. She said he would come. So, when my 3 Pm appointment canceled I told him to come in.

He came in in his work clothes. He works for the city, maintaining the trucks. He has done that for at least twenty years, probably more.

This is where his mind is:

For an hour or two every day he drives his pick-up truck to a spot that over-looks the river. There he sits and smokes and listens to talk radio. Sometimes it's Rush Limbaugh, sometimes Michael Savage. He sits and listens, and gets angry.

From what i remember he has always been angry. He has always felt that the world has not been fair, and that he, for some reason he can't figure out, has gotten the short end. He resents that. For years he had been a heavy drinker. He lost his license for a year because of a DUI. He got into one fight too many in a bar, and being older, got knocked cold by some kid. That was about eight years ago. He has not had a drink since. He resents that. He works for the city and will not get a raise this year. He is angry at that. He blames it on foreigners and socialists. I'm not sure how he works that out in his head, but he resents them too.

But he came to see me because he is scared. He remembers that his father was a guy who was also always angry. He remember his father as sullen, distant and mean. But what he remembers most about his father is that when his father was about the age that he is now he stuck a double-barreled shotgun in his mouth and pulled both triggers. He doesn't want to do that, but he finds himself thinking about it, often.

We talked about depression and genetics. We talked about how he hasn't spoken to his son in three years because they are both stubborn. We talked about how he never really figured out what his wife wanted from him. She seems more relaxed since has stopped drinking.

I told him that he really didn't want to blow his head off. That depression may have some genetic link, but genetics are not fate. I told him that here is a difference between thoughts and actions. Perhaps he could try some medication (no). Maybe he could call his son. Maybe he could take his wife to a movie. Maybe he should listen to something on the radio that makes him happy instead of angry. Maybe country music, maybe Mozart.

When he left he told me that I had helped him. He liked that part about genetics the best. I told him he could come back whenever he felt like it. I doubt that he will.

To paraphrase Darrell Martini (anyone remember him) "It is a wise man who rules his genes, it is a fool who is ruled by them."