Chapter One: Butch, Mother Nature and the automatic way the family anxiety is handled.
One coolish day in April of 1974, my brother comes over to my house. Jumping out of his old, blue, surfing van, he excitedly told me his very good news.
“I have become Jesus.”
Yes, Butch at thirty-three has come to heal us all.
Although there was some underlying truth to him being a healer, at that moment I simply panicked. All of a sudden, I was dragged into this crazy story that made no sense.
And I could not make him stop talking and start thinking.
If I tried to be rational, he would get so mad. I could not deviate from “his truth,” His given truth, his belief in what he knew. But I had no idea what he talking about? I had no such belief.
Butch goes on to say as Jesus, he will save us by going into politics. Yes, now he was going to rent the Shepard convention center in Virginia Beach and run for state senator. After all Alan Shepard, the astronaut had hit two golf balls while he was on the moon. Anything was possible.
There was no need to worry. Butch could raise money. After all, a famous singer, Linda Ronstadt would come and sing her famous song: “When Will I Be Loved.” Clearly, this would make Butch a ton of money, enough to finance his run for the senate.
OK maybe Butch, like her song says, had been cheated and mistreated. And now he was going to rise up and save us all. Clearly, he was talking nonsense.
What could I say? What could I do?
Yes, Butch had been living far outside the traditional path. Surfing gave his life meaning, direction and purpose. Golfing, smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, and loving woman, that was his life. But in the midst of his mother’s illness and soon-to-be death, Butch had done a complete change. From being a freedom-loving person now he was the commander of our salvation.
Holy cow!
Of course, there had been slow changes since my mother’s last visit but nothing alarming.
I thought Butch was getting ready to settle down and maybe marry this new woman from Australia, Evonne. She was a great catch and they had been traveling. In fact, they had gone to his first AA meeting right after his mother left. He even quit smoking. Yes, Butch seemed on a new and better path.
Until that fine day in April he had never thought he was a healer, nor had he ever wanted to run for political office. It seemed like his brain was melting and someone new was inhabiting his body/mind.
I tried to reason with him, using logic. I tried to explain that he was not Jesus. But he just got so mad that I didn’t agree with him. He scared me. What was the matter with me that I didn’t see Moses and the burning bush? All this was way over my head.
Clearly this was such a big change it was forcing everyone to notice and to realize Butch was in big trouble. What was happening to him? How could I relate to him? I had no idea, but I knew that this was not just a bump in the road. This was the beginning of a new way of life.
.
Who could help me? I turned to Butch’s friends. I thought he would listen to Tommy Casey, (a psychologist, and the grandson of Edgar Casey, a real psychic healer.) Butch was willing to talk to Tommy. But he was not listening when Tommy said Butch had too much energy and he would not be able to heal people in the state he was in and suggested that I take him to the local psychiatric hospital.
I had been emotionally blind to what was going on. I was in shock and it took a while before I could begin to understand that Tommy was saying Butch was having an acute psychotic attack.
That was worrisome because all I knew about psychiatric hospitals was from Ken Kesey’s One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, 1962 novel.
But there was no Nurse Rachet at Tidewater Psychiatric Hospital. In fact, Butch after his diagnosis and dinner easily walked out.
They were not equipped to deal with him since they didn’t have a locked ward.
The psychiatrist called me in and told me Butch was in a psychotic state and either schizophrenic or bi-polar and a danger to himself and others.
And guess what? Butch could not be held against his will unless he broke a law. Butch was free to leave but he was a danger. What a double bind.
They gave me a letter containing this warning. Butch was a danger to himself and others and needed to be hospitalized. He was my responsibility. So, I went back to his friends, telling them that Butch had escaped in his blue van. Who knows where he was going but I was sure he would call to tell us about his healing adventure.
I gathered three of his friends and we concocted a plan. One of the guys had access to a drug called Haldol which could help reduce psychotic symptoms.
Simple plan: find him, convince him we are coming to listen to his new knowledge, bring his favorite beer, Budweiser, and put the Haldol in it. Then when he gets groggy put him in the car and take him to a hospital with a locked ward.
And sure enough, Butch called me to say that he was in North Carolina as that is where the good Lord told him he needed to go. Butch said, “If you don’t believe me, just listen to this miracle. The clerk without knowing who I am, gave me room three, representing the Father, Son and Holy Ghost!” Well, I told him, three of his friends were with me, another miracle. His friends were ready to party and be saved.
When we got there, Butch welcomed us with open arms and opened the beer cans. After a while, as predicted, Butch got groggy from the Haldol. Two of the guys put him in the back seat of the car. One of the guys drove the blue van and the rest of us went to Norfolk General Hospital, where they were to keep a bed for Butch.
But of course, no such luck. By the time we got there, the beds were full. There was no choice. We had to drive him another hour to Bayberry Psychiatric Hospital in Newport News, Va. By this time Butch was wide awake and mad. His friends keep him as calm as possible.
We arrived at about 3:00 AM, and I was exhausted. It was so dark and scary to drive into the hospital grounds. Maybe Butch had mercy on me as I told him: “If you’re Jesus there are a lot of people to heal in there. I think this is where you were meant to be, to save us all.”
Butch agreed to go, and as I filled out paperwork, they showed him to his room. On the way back home, I realized that it was not just Butch who was in trouble, but all of us who cared about him. Of course, I knew that Butch was not about to accept his fate in the locked ward of the hospital. And there would be more trouble to come.
Yes, one night there was the not very surprising phone call. Butch had escaped. I am not sure how he escaped, but the hospital personal were more upset than I was. This was a good sign.
If I was on a merry-go-round at least I could be calm about the up and downs of the ride and not have it ruin my life or throw me into a tizzy. I knew Butch would be in touch and tell me that he was on some grand adventure. It was funny in a way as I just had not realized there was a mental health label for extremely adventurous people. Did these people really know how to help him?
Predictable Butch called to tell me he had escaped the kookie psychiatric world and hitchhiked to his apartment in Virginia Beach where he found his blue van. Now he was driving down to Florida, where Drew our other sibling was born. Drew had nothing to do with it Butch said. Butch was going to have fun and then he would get back to healing.
A day later I got a call from a guy who said, “My friend and I were hitchhiking to Florida and your brother picked us up and you know he is off the deep end. I am afraid for my life and his. You need to come and get him.” I told them I would talk to my grandfather and figure out when to fly to Florida.
I would have to get my grandfather to pay for this adventure. There was no way I could do much but beg for understanding. I convinced him that it was better for us to have Butch close rather than leave him to whatever might happen to him in Florida. My grandfather was sure it would not do any good. He was tired of rescuing people. He had been rescuing my mother for 20 plus years. But he could not say no and leave Butch down there.
All that done, I told the guys that I would meet them in Florida. And best bet, ask Butch if one of them could drive. Maybe you might have to bribe him with a beer. But if Butch wanted to drive well, they would have to go with just getting out of his van, abandon ship. But if Butch will let you drive then I can meet you and bring Butch back home. What a plan, what a relief for them, but not for me.
The next day, I flew down to Daytona Beach, Florida, and took a taxi to the Elbow Bar, where I meet the two guys who of course were standing by the blue van. We talked about them driving the van back to Virginia Beach when they were ready to go home. They were free to use it while on vacation. That was a good deal for all.
Then they looked at me and said, “Buch is in there.” As I walked into the packed club Butch spied me. I was full of trepidation and fear. Butch was looking happy, not one bit mad. Relief, for a moment.
Butch walks over, beer in his hand, suntanned and kind of handsome in his surfing outfit. Giving me a big hug, he looks at me and says: “ I am so glad to see you. I just did not know what to with my last dollar. What should I do? Do you think I should spend it on his last pack of cigarettes? Or the last beer? Or should I flush the damn dollar down the toilet?
At that moment, I knew NOT to tell him what to do. I told Butch “You can decide. It’s your dollar.” He turned and walked into the crowd. A few minutes later Butch came out smiling from ear to ear. I decided to flush it, he said.
Butch was not crazy about the idea that he would fly back to Virginia Beach, with his sister to boot. But the cold facts were that he had flushed his last dollar down the toilet. And I was the only person who had money.
The plane ride, a velvet Jesus and the motel
The guys drove us to the airport and said, “Good luck mate!” Sitting in the comfortable seat I was thinking this has not been too bad of an adventure. The only real problem was the decision about the dollar. Not bad!
Just about when I was relaxing on the plane, eyes shut, Butch leaned over and said, “You are not taking me back to that hospital.” What was I going to say?
I started with logic: “Butch, no one knows what to do. The doctors say you need medication. And they need to look after you to make sure that medicine is right”
O.K. that was a mistake. And yes, we had a small fight. I cried. Well, you get the idea.
The plane, meanwhile, was getting ready to land in Atlanta and we had to go to a new gate and board another plane. “Lord have mercy on me.” OK, let’s see what happens.
Butch was happy to leave the plane. “See you,” he says. I had his ticket for Wilmington, North Carolina, and then Norfolk, Va. But Butch would have none of it. What was I going to do now as Butch faded into the crowd?
Nothing to do but carry on, so I went down to the gate. As the time ticked by, I was getting more upset. Seeing a policeman, I showed him the letter, asking if he could help me find Butch to get him on the plane. But just as I was getting into telling this poor man about my problem, Butch jumped out from behind a pillar. “I am here, ha, ha, ha I tricked you.”
Lucky me!
We boarded the plane. And once again Butch was telling me. “NO HOSPITAL!”
By the time the plane landed I knew I was in for trouble. I had asked the stewardess if they could just keep Butch on the plane and of course, that was not allowed. So Butch gets off first, and I am running to try to catch up when the security guard stopped me. “That man told me that you were chasing him, and he wants you to stop harassing him.” So, I pulled the letter out of my pocketbook.
“Oh my gosh,” he says, “Let’s go find him”. And so, we both ran around looking everywhere. The policeman returned to the front desk telling me that Butch had climbed out of the bathroom window. Just then Butch comes wandering back in smiling, “The plane left.”
Now what? How to get Butch out of North Carolina. How to get him to the hospital, which I was sure was the answer to my problems. Possibly a false hope? But how was I or anyone to know?
I asked about the next plane, but no other plane was scheduled for Norfolk. How about renting a car? I was a bit hesitant, as that would be four hours in the car with Butch. But there was no other way.
I rented a car. Butch was in the passenger seat talking about God and first thing you know I had run the car up on the side walk. I was a wreck. Butch took over. First, he told me to get in the passenger side as I was not fit to drive. Actually, at that moment, he did seem more capable of driving than I was. Then he went into the 7-11 and got some beer.
Butch was happy and in charge. The sun was shining. See, that was a sign God loved him. By this time, he had read and knew by heart several chapters in the Bible, and would repeat them to me. And yes, I needed to pray too that my children would not miss their mother too much. But Butch reassured me that all was well.
After a couple of hours driving Butch stopped at a gas station. Beside gas and cokes there was a man there selling paintings of Jesus on velvet. Butch, insisted that I buy one for him. OK, I gave up, again. And once more Butch steam rolled over me. What harm would it do? Maybe Jesus would help me get him to the hospital.
We got back on the road with Jesus in the trunk. All was good. The afternoon sun was bright and then all of a sudden Butch pulled the car over. There was the hitchhiker standing on the road with his backpack. The man runs over and jumps in the back seat. I was already feeling sorry for this guy. He says he wants to go about 30 minutes down the road to his home. Butch asked do you believe in God and Jesus Christ? Yes, he was a Christian, and he was carrying his Bible. Well, Butch quoted his favorite Biblical passage and began to tell him a few secrets of the universe. But most of his thinking at the time, since he had no money, was to repeat this verse:
Philippians 4:19 says, “My God shall supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus.” God is our all-powerful, all-compassionate, all-wise and all-loving heavenly Father.
You never have to worry about money, or anything . Look at me, he says. By then the guy is ready to get out of the car, just pull over he says and Butch drove on. Possibly the longest 30-minute drive he had been on. When Butch pulled over to let him out, near his home, the guy says, “Please take my Bible with you”, and he looked at me and said, “There are other passages in the Bible.”
To Butch this was even more proof that he was on the right path, and I was simply a doubting Thomas. As evening approached, we were in Chesapeake, Va. and I was driving.
Butch was drinking beer.
I was hoping that he would not notice that I was taking the road to Newport News instead of Virginia Beach but he did, and when I took that fateful turn, he got mad and took the keys out of the car.
I managed to steer the car to the side of the road. Darkness had descended but there to the east was the light of a motel.
I told Butch I had enough and was going to get the guy at the motel and tell the police that he was taking my Velvet Jesus.
The lights were on at Motel 6. I walked over to the motel and explained what was going on. He looked skeptical but I showed him the letter. Finally, the motel man was willing to call the police.
When we walked back over there, Butch was very busy trying to get the picture of the Velvet Jesus out of the trunk. I said that is my Velvet Jesus, I had paid for it after all.
And of course, as predicted, Butch pushed me away from the velvet Jesus. Then Butch grabbed the painting and headed out into the woods.
Of course, when the police came, they were very interested in what Butch did that was wrong. Pushing his sister. This bothered them way more than the letter saying Butch was a danger to himself and or others.
After the police left, I looked around but could not find the car keys. Had Butch taken them?
Probably, a small punishment for trying to take away his freedom. Eventually, I called the rental company and according to them, I had insurance and they would send a towtruck to haul me back home.
When the tow truck arrived the driver acted like this happened all the time. But the world had changed. I knew deeply that and there was no getting away from that fact. I. mused on this soap opera as I rode back to my house in the tow truck.
The next morning the police called to say they had found Butch. They reported that Butch was discovered naked running around in the woods when they found him. They could not find The Velvet Jesus. They also notified me that Butch was to have a trial in two days. I asked if they could just take him to a hospital. They said: “No, not without a judge sentencing him.”
Lucky for me I had a good friend Ricard Glasser, who was a well-known lawyer in the community. I called him and he said no worries, no charges. Richard usually dealt with asbestos cases, but he would do this purely as a favor.
Richard and I met at the courthouse. We waited for the courthouse doors to open. When they did there was Butch. Seeing me, he called out loudly, “There is Judas. Look what you have done, Judas!”
Butch held his chained arms over his head. The judge was not impressed. He had the letter and after a couple of questions, he told Butch he would be confined to a psychiatric hospital for the next 30 days.
The next day May 5th I found out that our mother had died…. Yes, she died the very same day that Butch was committed. What to make of this?