I remember taking some friends to Trapper's Alley back when it was really Trapper's Alley and standing in a public bathroom when Stella came charging out of a stall, sans coulette, waving her billy club, screaming at us at the top of her lungs. We escaped unscathed [[except for the mental image, which lingers lo these many years). I agree with Darrell.

The shame is we have no provision in our society for the mentally ill. Stella needed help that she never got. She got compassion, which is REALLY REALLY GOOD, but no help except the averted eye.