Reverend Bobo and Bubblegum

Today I saw one of the more colorful characters I’ve known from my day program. He’s working with our intensive community treatment team, which is the only way the wonder of his current stability is possible – he’s been housed through my agency for over a year. He takes medication regularly, he bathes regularly, and when one asks him a question, he answers in a way that makes sense. This is a far cry from the years he spent on the "hobo trail." He was rarely clean and a hopeless hoarder, saving papers and food, empty cups and trinkets in an old backpack. The only clothes he owned were those on his back - and he had several outfits on his back.

His very name is truly unique. I won't give the actual name here to protect his identity (in the small chance that you'd know him) but it's akin to Empee. As a testament to his then untreated mental illness, however, some days he wanted to be called Earl, and sometimes he wanted to be called Reverend Bobo. Unfortunately, one couldn't tell who he was on which day, and he got very angry when we called him incorrectly.

Not only did he adjust his own name, but also other people's names. He frequently called people Bubblegum, particularly when he was frustrated. "I put that there for a reason, bubblegum.." He had trouble with my name for awhile, and so he just called me Gracie. I don’t know how he got Gracie or why, but I was sad when he stopped. Whether this was due to his personality or mental illness, I don't know.

One thing that I do believe is a testament to his mental illness is that when one asked him a question about how he was or the status of his meetings, he would answer a different question. Very frequently, the answer was to remind us that Darth Vader was his father. Sometimes, though, the answer was an angry outburst, and no amount of soothing voices or corrected names could fix it - he was excused for the day.

The first time that he revealed to me how sweet and gentle person he is was when one of our staff members was leaving. This made him very nervous and anxious, but he really didn't have the words to communicate how he was feeling. Instead, like a frightened child staying near their parents, he hung close to different staff members throughout the day. My turn was during lunch. He hovered around me, almost wringing his hands, and frequently reminded me that she was leaving. Though he was sad, his reaction was touching. He was handling it the best way he knew how.

I remember the day that President Obama was inaugurated – my center has a big screen TV and we let people stay after lunch to watch it. The whole center was darkened, and all of the clients were arranged in a half circle around the TV to watch. Despite the unusually large number of people in the room, they were hushed to hear the television commentator announce the different parts of the ceremony. When they announced a performance by Yoyo Ma, Empee’s voice piped up from the quiet darkness to announce, “Yoyo Ma’s my cousin!”

While I miss Reverend Bobo and Bubblegum, it was nice to be able to hug him hello today and to really be with Empee.

Epilogue: When I was working on a project in my practicum, I was working with prominent members of the faith community, and did, in fact, meet a Reverend Bobo. I spoke with other people about Empee, and they suggested that he knew Reverend Bobo, who is extremely involved in his community. And all this time, I thought it was a delusion...