By Dave Evensen
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.
BUTLERVILLE — Something bloomed in Alicia Greene on her first day of work at Muscatatuck State Developmental Center in 1979.
It flourished, and, in the 25 years since, it became her.
The transformation is hard to describe. It’s more than Greene’s evolution from shy farm girl to dynamo physical therapy aide, who covers the peaceful grounds with Wall Street strides and enters rooms with a booming “Hell-oo-oo!”
Days pass differently at Muscatatuck. One recent morning, Greene pushed open a tan door and was greeted by a looming, unblinking man in sweatpants who leaned close and recited her birthday.
When the resident twice did the same for everyone in the room, Greene shouted encouragement and moved on.
Patience is one word for what’s grown in Greene. When you work with the developmentally disabled, days are often measured not in progress, but how good they make you feel.
She walked past the puddles and fall leaves, her backpack bouncing as she cut through the maze of yellow-brick buildings, and stopped suddenly.
She knelt, picked a struggling worm off the pavement, scuffed the lawn with her heel and placed the worm on the dirt before continuing on her way.
“It just slows you down out here,” Greene said. “When you’re born slow, you’re slow. Our progress out here is slow. Everything is slow and wonderful.”
Or maybe it’s more.
When Greene arrived at Muscatatuck, at age 19, they warned new employees against growing attached to the place.
That was impossible for Greene. These days she refers to Muscatatuck residents as her kids.
She and her husband, Kevin, had no children, but Greene calls herself a parent without hesitating.
“When you’re first hired here you’re a caregiver,” she said. “(But) it’s hard not to become a parent. You’re wiping their tears every day.
“It makes me a better parent,” she added, of her time at Muscatatuck. “The kids have taught me a lot.”
But now changes in care and the state’s fiscal crunch are making Greene’s analogy painfully play itself out. Muscatatuck is closing. The kids are leaving home.
The closing is set tentatively for early 2005. With her seniority, Greene could be one of the last workers turning off the lights at the end.
Like many other long-time employees, she’s considering leaving the health-care field for good.
The downscaling
A trickle of developmental service technicians came to a patio behind one of the residential buildings for a cigarette break.
The future for many of them is unclear. State transfers are few, and similar jobs at private homes are offering up to $5 an hour less than Muscatatuck.
That’s a significant drop, since DSTs, who do daily care, earn $11.40 to $17.17 an hour at Muscatatuck.
Jobs with more training, such as nursing, are easier to find. DSTs, however, said they might just search for a new career.
With the closure coming, DSTs have been quitting at a rate that’s prompted the state to offer them higher wages to keep the center staffed through its final days.
Many DSTs who remain at Muscatatuck have been attending to residents’ daily needs for years. Some employees came to work there in the footsteps of their parents.
Mary Jean Todd, 59, of North Vernon, sat at a picnic table. She called herself a sentimental bawlbaby, but added she feels like her family is leaving.
Todd has been at Muscatatuck more than 31 years. Her mother worked there for 22 years before that.
“It’s a heartbreak,” she said.
Joannie Shelley, 38, of North Vernon, has worked as a DST for 14 years at Muscatatuck. Her mother worked there for 29 years.
Shelley recalls coming to Muscatatuck as a child and playing games with the residents.
She shook her head when talk turned to Muscatatuck being converted to a Homeland Security base. They’ve all seen the military helicopters and camouflaged men.
“That just gets to me every time they land,” Shelley said. “Because I know they’re the ones that are going to take it.”
Shelley, a mother of three, said she’ll go back to school to become a surgical technician.
Lisa McCollum, who’s worked there for 13 years, said she’ll next raise a family.
Rhonda Mullins, 43, of Madison, had no plans, but she likely won’t work any more as a DST.
“I want something totally the opposite,” she said. “I want a big change.
“I like my job, but watching (the residents) leave is hard.”
Todd, who plans to retire and take care of her mother at home, understood.
“You don’t want to get attached and leave them like we did,” she said.
“You learn more from them than you think you do. The love, the affection. They show it in different ways.
“You’ve been with them that long, and then they get up and leave, they take part of you with them.”
Another beginning
Greene came to Muscatatuck because she was in love with Kevin, then her future husband, and wanted to stay nearby.
She also had a lifelong urge to help the handicapped. She had a disabled uncle who was a blast, Greene said, and as a girl she’d play with the handicapped kids.
As she talked, Greene walked through several buildings. Departments have been consolidated, and wings closed.
Sometimes it was hard to find anyone at all.
When Greene arrived, Muscatatuck had 1,200 residents. Fewer than 50 were left by the beginning of December.
Standards changed. In her early days there, Muscatatuck would house anyone with a behavioral problem, Greene said. This led to quirky circumstances such as residents who read newspapers better than she.
As years passed, however, stigmas faded, and patients were better diagnosed and placed in more appropriate settings.
“The environment changed,” Greene said. “Well, the public has changed.”
The closing announcement in 2001 tore her up. She wondered how residents would cope outside Muscatatuck.
“Here they’re OK because you got lots of people,” she said. “Out there you just don’t know.”
Residents are moving to home environments, Greene said, but she worries that they would fare better at Muscatatuck, with more people surrounding them.
“The kids like that action,” she said. “In some ways, it keeps you mentally strong.”
As for herself, a recent job fair opened her eyes to new fields. She knows a few group homes would like to hire her, but she wants to take off a couple months when Muscatatuck closes and consider something new.
“Everything works out. That’s my motto,” she said.
In a short time — Greene doesn’t know exactly when — she’ll receive her papers notifying her that she has 30 days left.
That will mean just one more month of driving east every morning on U.S. 50 to Muscatatuck, in time for her 6 a.m. shift.
“Every day, into work, the sun comes up,” Greene said, as she continued her walk across the grounds. “It’s a wonderful thing. Sunrises every morning for 25 years.”
TUESDAY: A profile of Charlie Fordice, a 40-year resident of the center who recently moved to a group home.
Portions © 2004, The Republic, Columbus, Indiana