Everything Matters!
Partial transcripts from the files of Hilda Begin, M.S., Ph.D., Occupational and Mental Health Therapist, Elgin, Illinois. Client is Rodney Thibodeau. Sessions conducted between 6/98 and 9/98. Transcribed to hard copy from Dictaphone recordings.
6/15, Mon., 3:00-3:50 p.m., client’s home
Even after ten years playing for the Cubs—is it ten years? Or eleven? No, it’s ten, I think. I’ll need to check but I think it’s ten.
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Twelve? You’re sure?
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Anyway it’s weird coming back from a road trip because Chicago still doesn’t feel like home to me. Well home’s not the right word, it will never be home, really, I guess I should say it still doesn’t feel like where I live. After twelve years. Isn’t that funny? It feels like just another part of the road trip, only longer, with bigger hotel rooms.
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Yeah, it was easier when Junior was around, even though he was pretty messed up a lot of times and he knew how I felt about that, but I got used to having him here and now he’s gone again and I feel lost. He’s the brains of the operation. I just play baseball. I used to tell him that and he’d say no, brother, you’ve got more brains than you give yourself credit for, you’re smarter than me in a lot of ways.
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He’s gotten better but he still drinks more than he probably should. Not that I really can keep track of him anymore. I only see him once every two or three months. He’ll come without letting me know but he never misses me because we’re always playing at home when he comes so he must pay attention to our schedule. He just shows up here or at the clubhouse. There he’ll be. My little brother.
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New Mexico. I’ve never been there. The closest I’ve been to New Mexico is Colorado, I think. Denver. Coors Field. That’s close to New Mexico, isn’t it? Sort of?
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But it’s closer than San Diego? Or St. Louis?
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So Coors Field is as close as I’ve ever been to New Mexico. Which is where Junior spends most of his time.
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What does “preoccupied” mean?
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You think I think about Junior too much?
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Well if you’re asking what I think, I don’t mean to be mean or anything, and I’m not saying you’re wrong Hilda but I don’t think that’s true at all. He’s my baby brother. He explains things to me in ways I can understand, and he doesn’t ever laugh like Gutierrez and Brant Alexander do, they think I can’t tell they’re making fun of me, and then Reynolds will holler at them and say something like Rodney’s hitting .348, you fucking toolkits, what are you carrying for averages right now? .255? .260? So maybe you should shut the fuck up with your jokes.
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I like Reynolds. He’s a good guy and a good catcher.
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Sorry so like I says, really if I’m gonna be honest all there is to say is I miss Junior. That’s it. I don’t see Ma and Dad much, especially during the season. I’d come back from a road trip and Junior’d be here and we’d go out to eat and see movies. Play Street Fighter III on the Dreamcast. But he’s doing important work and I understand that.
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In New Mexico, like I just says.
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I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me much about it. He works with telescopes, looking at the sky at night. The way he put it is, he says I’m not there in any official capacity. He’s sort of a consultant. And he doesn’t get paid. I still have to send him money. Which I don’t mind doing that.
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You think he’s taking advantage of me?
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Oh. Do I think he’s taking advantage of me. If you want to know what I think, I think no. He’s doing important things, like I says. And he hardly asks for any money at all. The only time it’s more than a couple hundred is when he needs a plane ticket to Boston. Which is like maybe twice a year.
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He travels to Boston. MIT. You know what that is?
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The school, right. I don’t know what he does there, but it’s part of his work, I’m sure.
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No, I don’t think he’s making this up just as an excuse to ask for money.
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Listen, I don’t like you saying things like that about my brother.
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You’re not asking me how I feel, you’re telling me how I should feel.
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I’m not trying to be mean or make you feel bad. But like I tell Gutierrez, I’m not the smartest but I’m also not as stupid as you think. I know more about Junior’s work than I’m saying. Because he told me but made me promise to keep it to myself.
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I can’t. I probably shouldn’t even have said anything about the telescopes.
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Making you believe me isn’t important enough to break my promise to Junior.
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It sure sounds like you’re questioning my honesty.
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It’s time to leave for the ballpark? Really? Already?
8/13, Thurs., 1:30-2:20 p.m., Westin Hotel, San Francisco
Am I bothered by it? You mean does it make me upset? I guess the answer is yes, sort of. I’m worried. But I’m not really surprised—I’ve known all along what Junior was working on. Now everyone else knows too so I guess I don’t have to keep the secret anymore.
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It doesn’t matter to me what they’re saying. I don’t read newspapers anyway.
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See like usual I feel like you’re telling me what I should think. Not asking.
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Yes, that is too what you’re doing. Just like everyone else you think my brother’s crazy and you want me to think the same thing.
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No, I don’t believe what he’s saying.
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Because God wouldn’t do that to us.
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Maybe you’re right. I don’t think he’s crazy, but at the same time I don’t think what he’s saying is true, either. So yeah I guess that doesn’t really make sense. I guess it is like you say a contradiction.
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Well, really, and please don’t get mad at me for saying this like you’re not smart enough to figure it out yourself, but would they be paying any attention to Junior in the newspapers and on TV if he was just another crazy person? I mean every city I go to to play ball there’s at least one guy sitting on a corner somewhere wearing a parka and a winter hat in the middle of summer, talking about the end of the world. Nobody’s talking to them on Fox News or writing articles about them in the Chicago Tribute [sic].
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Yes, even if they’re only writing the articles to disparage him. By disparage I guess you mean make fun of.
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I still think I made a good point. Even if they are just disparaging him, there’s something going on here because otherwise they wouldn’t be talking about him at all.
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I know the government said he doesn’t work for them and they don’t know who he is. Like I says before, he wasn’t official. He consulted. He told me he was helping them get their telescopes to where they could see further out into space. Helping them improve the technology. But he wasn’t an employee, and he wasn’t being paid.
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I don’t know what that means. Please stop trying to confuse me.
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But I think you are, because you know I have a hard time understanding big words and technical counselor sort of language. So when you say things like elaborate delusional systems are—how did you say it again?
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Elaborate delusional systems are a hallmark of classic paranoid schizophrenia. I don’t know what that means. Except I’ve got a feeling it’s supposed to be disparaging.
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The last time I saw him was .
. . I’m not sure. You know how bad I am with time. It was maybe two or three weeks ago. We were on a home stand three weeks ago, right?
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Right, the end of our last home stand. We played the Brewers.
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I’m sorry, you’re right, the Pirates. It was just before the thing on CNN, with the black fellow.
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Bernard Shaw, you’re right. You always know these things. I don’t know why I’m always so surprised at how smart you are. Who’s that black guy, I ask, and right off you say Bernard Shaw without even having to think about it, and you’re right. And yet it always surprises me.
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You’re welcome. The last time I saw Junior was right before the first time he went on TV, with Bernard Shaw. Which was about three weeks ago.
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He seemed . . . like himself. Though he did tell me that things were happening at the observatory in New Mexico and it was possible that he wouldn’t be back for a while. He would be talking to people on TV and doing interviews and having meetings and he might not be able to come and see me until it was over.
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I haven’t seen him, so I guess he was right.
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He did send a telegram asking for money a few days ago. But I didn’t actually talk to him.
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Listen I don’t want to be rude. I know you’re doing your job and you’re very good at it and sometimes to be good at your job you have to say things that only make sense to someone as smart as you. But still I want you to be careful what you say about Junior. Because that does upset me.
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And it makes me uncomfortable to have to ask you that because I don’t like making conflict with anyone. At all.
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But why is that a problem? Why is it a problem to just want to get along with everyone as much as you can? I don’t understand. Honestly. I’m only asking.
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See, there you go again. He’s not taking advantage of me.
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I know you didn’t say Junior specifically, but you didn’t have to. I know who you’re talking about.
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You know what, let me tell you something about what my brother did for me. It’s like—do you ever read Reader’s Digest?
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They have a word they use to describe these little stories about things that happen to people in their lives. Like this guy who went hiking and got attacked by a grizzly bear. Or the woman who’d given up her baby for adoption and then forty years later her daughter comes to her birthday party as a surprise. There’s a word for it. A term.
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No, not anecdote. It starts with a “V.”
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Yes, that’s it. How do you say it again?
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Vignette. Right. In Reader’s Digest they call them slice-of-life vignettes.
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So if it’s okay I will now tell you a slice-of-life vignette about my brother.
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Right so you know first of all that I am a cocaine addict.
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No, of course not. I haven’t used cocaine for a long time. But the program teaches you that once you’re an addict you’re always an addict, even if you never touch your substance of choice for the rest of your life. Like the alcoholics say: it’s alcohol-ism, not -wasm.
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Right. So after I left rehab and came home my parents were watching me close. Dad especially. He was really mad about the whole thing. He blamed Uncle Rodney for making me a cocaine addict even though it wasn’t his fault, Uncle Rodney didn’t even know I knew where his cocaine stash was and he definitely wouldn’t have ever given any to me. He took care of me and told me I was like his own son. This was because he never had kids of his own. He loved me and was just as sad as anybody to find out I was an addict.
But when I came home from rehab Dad said I couldn’t see Uncle Rodney anymore. I couldn’t go to Uncle Rodney’s, which was bad enough because I pretty much lived there, and he couldn’t come over to visit me, either. Nothing. So I was pretty upset. But sometimes that’s the way Dad is. He’s the best man I know but when he’s angry he doesn’t like to listen to anyone. It’s just what he says goes. He even beat Uncle Rodney up, which I didn’t know about then but found out later.
After a while I decided to call Uncle Rodney anyway. I called him and said why don’t you come over, and he said I can’t. But I told him it was okay, that my dad wasn’t mad at him anymore. It was a lie. I feel bad about it even now. I just wanted to see him. And Uncle Rodney believed me and he came over. It was really good to see him. Except that Dad came home to get his toolbox because the car had broken down at the warehouse and he needed to wrench or hammer something to get it going again. And he tried to get his hands on Uncle Rodney but Uncle Rodney went running and when Dad came back in from chasing him he was so mad his face was red and his lips had spit on them. And he was mad at me.
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No, he never really spanked us. Maybe once. I guess I don’t really believe that he would have hit me. But right at that moment it was hard not to be scared.
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But so anyway the point is that Junior saved me.
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By telling Dad he was the one who asked Uncle Rodney to come over.
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To understand what a big deal that is, you have to think about this: Junior and I had both seen our dad get angry like that before, and we had seen what happened to people he got mad at. Like Uncle Rodney’s nose for example. Dad almost tore it right off his face. And even knowing that, Junior walked in and saw what was going on and took all the attention off me and put it on himself.
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He didn’t seem to know what to think about that. He just stared at Junior. Then he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and went down into the basement to get his toolbox.
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I asked him that same question after. And he said he didn’t think there really was a reason why, except that he saw his brother was in trouble and he thought he should do something to help.
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That’s Junior. He never gets emotional about things. But that doesn’t mean you can’t count on him.
[Telephone rings; client answers, speaks briefly, replaces handset.]
Did you order room service?
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I did? When? Are you sure?
9/8, Mon., 9:15-10:00 a.m., client’s home
I don’t want to talk right now.
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I don’t want you here. I’m sorry to be rude.
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Well would you want to have to sit down and talk about your dreams and what you remember from being a—what is it again? Before you’re born?
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—a fetus, would you want to answer questions about what you remember from being a fetus, if your brother was missing?
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No, I don’t want to talk about that, either. Talking about it won’t help us figure out where Junior is. What I want is to go to the park and take batting practice.
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I know it’s an off day. But batting practice helps me relax. It’s either that or play Dreamcast, and Dreamcast just reminds me of Junior.
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I don’t understand why it’s important that we talk about what’s going on with Junior.
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I don’t think I want to process anything.
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I’m sorry. I really am. It’s just I’m so worried and it’s making me angry, which I’m not used to. I don’t know how to be angry the right way I guess.
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No, I’m not worried about that. I know that’s what the police are saying, but they don’t know Junior. They’re wrong.
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Because I’m sure, that’s all.
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I don’t want to tell
you what I think happened. You’ll just tell me I’m wrong. Say I’m stupid.
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Maybe you wouldn’t say it that way, but that’s what you would think.
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Okay fine. I’m worried someone kidnapped him.
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I don’t know why anyone would kidnap him. But it’s the only thing that makes sense. If he planned to go away he would have told me. Or Dad. But he didn’t say anything.
[Client exhibiting uncharacteristic signs of agitation; tearing empty match-book into small pieces, shaking leg up and down so vigorously that the floor vibrates.]
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Consider the possibility that what?
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No. No.
[Long pause.]
Hilda, I want you to go.
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No. I’m not listening to you anymore. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about and so I’m not listening. Go. Don’t come back.
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Yes, my father hired you. He hired you to help me figure out the difference between clean and dirty clothes. He hired you to help me remember to blow candles out before leaving the house. He did not hire you to tell me that my brother killed himself.
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This doesn’t feel like help to me.
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Besides, yes it’s true my father hired you but I pay your salary. And I want you to leave and don’t come back ever again.
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