By Kelsey VanArsdall
The Republic
Editor's Note: An exclusive week-long series of articles explores the past, present and future of the Muscatatuck State Developmental Center in Butlerville. The center opened in 1919 and is scheduled to close by Jan. 1.
NORTH VERNON — At 89, Charlie Fordice knows freedoms he hasn’t experienced since childhood.
Living in a house. Having a home. A place where the doorbell chimes. Sleeping in his personal bedroom.
For nearly 50 years, Charlie lived at Muscatatuck State Developmental Center. His new home doesn’t have a name; it’s just a white house in North Vernon with couches and lounge chairs where Charlie and his roommate, Jimmy, watch CNN and cover up with blankets.
A place where Charlie can sit at his round dining table and watch the cars drive by.
“Yeah, I like it,” he said.
“It’s nice.”
The closure of the developmental center, announced by the Indiana Family and Social Services Administration in 2001, forced Charlie, along with hundreds of other Muscatatuck residents, to find a new home.
On the October day he left, most Muscatatuck employees, holding back tears, stayed inside, while new caretakers escorted him out.
“Charlie was everybody’s favorite,” said Laura Lynn Reynolds, Charlie’s social worker at Muscatatuck.
Charlie arrived at his new, one-story residence with a few pictures, his cap and his most prized possession: a large stuffed horse, Trigger, given to him by a Muscatatuck employee.
“He seems to be doing really well,” said Marcia Starns, a supported-living assistant at Archer Consultations Services, the institution picked to care for Charlie.
“It’s different, sure, but I think he likes living in this setting.
“He’s never had this much freedom.”
An outdoorsman
Despite his newfound independence, Charlie cannot be left alone. And as age invades his body, his need for care is growing.
His steps have grown wobblier. His hands tremble. Congestive heart failure forces more breaks and a little more nap time each day.
Charlie was born in 1915, the second of eight children.
“He had a tendency to wander,” said Reynolds, sifting through pages of a binder that chronicles Charlie’s life.
“Charlie’s mind and his body were always going.”
Charlie and his brother, developmentally disabled, proved too much work for their parents during The Depression and both were admitted to Muscatatuck.
“They feared for his safety,” said Reynolds.
He lived on the grounds — at that time, booming with nearly 2000 residents — until he moved back in with family in 1956.
In 1984, following the death of his parents and a sister, who cared for him, Charlie was re-admitted.
Charlie has a developmental quotient of 20, a number assigned to his mental abilities. The average is 70.
At Muscatatuck, he and Trigger lived in the Maple Ward, the building designated for geriatric patients.
Wherever Charlie went in his younger days, his little red wagon was sure to follow.
It filled with sticks and leaves, while Charlie, acting as Muscatatuck’s informal grounds man, scoured the property, some days up to eight hours at a time.
Charlie lived a farmer’s life as much as he could within the boundaries of the center and the confines of a mental disorder.
He thrived on the feel of dirt under his fingernails.
A new routine
Today, at least six Archer living assistants rotate shifts caring for Charlie and his roommate, allowing for one employee in the house at all times.
After waking from a recent afternoon nap, Charlie dressed in gray sweatpants and a forest green pullover to greet a visitor. He propped himself on the edge of the couch and waited, while his visitor slid his feet into white New Balance sneakers and tied the laces.
“I got new shoes,” he said pointing to his feet tapping on the ground.
“Do you like them?”
Charlie escorted his lady caller on his arm from room to room until he arrived at one with white walls interrupted by horse pictures, a twin bed covered with a bucking-bronco comforter and a stuffed Big Bird doll resting on a cherry wood nightstand.
Charlie’s bedroom.
“Patches,” he stated simply, pointing to a picture of himself with a caramel miniature horse.
“Are we going to see Patches today?”
“Not today, Charlie, but we’re planning a trip next week,” said Starns.
Charlie and his visitor watched the leaves fall, while he slurped a Diet Pepsi that Starns had given to him in a glass half full to keep him from drinking too much at a time.
“We’re gonna’ have a party out there,” said Charlie, referring to a patch of lawn at the side of the house.
“When the weather gets warmer, Charlie can’t wait to plant a garden out there,” said Starns.
“We’re gonna’ have a party,” Charlie repeated with a crooked grin.
At 1 p.m., lunch time, Starns began cooking spaghetti for Charlie and his roommate. She overcooked the noodles to make them extra soft and chopped them for easy scooping, because Charlie eats everything with a spoon.
She pureed canned peaches and mixed green watermelon Kool-Aid, the flavor Charlie picked.
“You just get used to cooking like this,” said Starns.
After lunch, Charlie met with Archer and FSSA representatives to monitor his success with the transition.
Charlie has embarked on a new life. Each day brings something different.
WEDNESDAY: How the closure of Muscatatuck is affecting life in Butlerville.
Portions © 2004, The Republic, Columbus, Indiana