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"The Honourable Thomas P. Salmon, Governor of Vermont, issued a proclamation
praising TM for removing 'the main cause of hypertension, anxiety, high blood
pressure, and other psychosomatic illnesses'; offering a solution to drug
abuse, and promoting 'improvement in student behavior, and in student-parent
and teacher relationships.' He declared the week following, 'World Plan Week',
in respect to the Maharishi's objectives, and urged all state employees to
attend a special TM presentation."
"The National Institute of Health provided funds to train 130 high school
instructors in TM's Science of Creative Intelligence at Humbolt State College,
California."
from Hefley, James C. "The Youthnappers". Victor Books : Illinois. (c) 1977
Moments....
9/12/95 - 9:05am
With Calliope's latest act of bizarre rebellion her mother had finally
become convinced that Calliope's problems were in excess of what she could
deal with as a mother and so she had called a psychiatrist.
"I've made an appointment for you with Doctor Sven for 1pm tomorrow,
don't forget to go.......... I know you dislike the idea of going to a
therapist, but Doctor Sven is really a very nice man..., he promised me he
wouldn't use the puppets like the last one did............. Speaking of
which, please try to remain calm, it was hard on me having to go to court
when the last one sued us after you attacked his hand......" Calliope didn't
respond, she just sat there thinking about how it was ridiculous that her bed
was the only one in the house, while her mother slept on the floor. She
thought her mother cheap, and then realized that her father had taken their
bed when he divorced her, and perhaps her mother had never really gotten over
the divorce. Either.
9/12/95 - 9:45pm
As Calliope sat up she noticed a small, yet annoying, crack in the
ceiling at the edge of her vision, and then dismissed it. She opened the
drawer of her bedside table and removed the old worn leather wallet for the
hundredth time. Opening it, she began to sift through the contents,
wondering why the old homeless bum had kept all of the seemingly meaningless
scraps of paper, and wanting more than anything at the moment to know, to
understand *why?*. Then the walls began to close in on her and she was alone
with the chaos of her thoughts and the perpetual drone of her mind on fire
like the buzzing of angry bees. She was surrounded by disorder, swimming in
it, struggling to stay afloat. She had to get out.
9/12/95 - 10:15pm
Calliope bought a bucket of black paint at the
hardware store down the street. The owner, Mr. McInney, rang up her purchase
and tried to make a joke about how buckets of black paint weren't really in
demand. Calliope did not even looked at him during the entire time; she
realized as she was leaving that she had forgotten what he looked like, and
when she tried to remember, all she could picture was the Quaker Oatmeal guy,
Edward Brimley. Calliope trudged home, looking at the clouds. When she got
home she dug around until she had found a paintbrush. She went into her room
and closed the door, began to paint. She painted through the
night. At 4 in the morning she at last succumbed to sleep.
9/13/95 - 11:00am
Her mother, feeling particularly fed up with Calliope's behavior for sleeping
late, came in to wake her at 11 in the morning. What she beheld when she
entered the room made her nauseas and dizzy, and she reached out with both
hands to steady herself from falling. Her palms came away black.
The room was entirely black, all four walls, the ceiling, even the
venetian blinds. The only spot which was not painted totally jet black was
on the far wall above where Calliope now slept. There was a spot at about
chest height which had been painted up to and around but never over. In the
middle of the still white spot was a black and white photo of her and
Calliope's father and Calliope, taken in Colorado several years ago during
one of their camping trips. Calliope slept on, unaware of what was happening,
huddled in the corner just far enough away from the two walls to not get any
paint on herself. She was dreaming and crying out softly in her sleep, but
not moving. Her mother fled without closing the door behind her.
9/13/95 - 12:28pm
Calliope's mother, Theresa, sat on the couch smoking a cigarette she had
bummed off the cashier at the grocery store; she had never smoked before.
She tried once again to think of what had occurred the last several months.
Then the walls began to close in on her and she felt alone with the chaos of
her thoughts and the perpetual drone of her mind on fire like the buzzing of
the outboard motor on her ex-husband's motor boat. She was surrounded by
disorder, swimming in it, struggling to stay afloat. Calliope had to get out.
Yes, that was it, Calliope was the problem so get rid of her, make her leave,
kick her out of the house. It was the only solution. Yes. Once again Theresa
tried to wash the black paint off of her palms without any success.
9/13/95 - 1:02pm
Theresa watched her go with the same interest that one takes when watching
a talk show because there's nothing else on and one is busy folding clothes at
the same time. Then she went and huddled in her closet with her many pairs of
shoes that she had bought with her own money and could never be taken from her.
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