Mark Rubinstein's Blog, page 40
January 14, 2013
Hannah Jane: Nature's Nurse
It was one of those magical mornings, when you awake to find your world buried in the kind of snow in which an ethereal silence blankets everything. Off my wife Linda and I trudged, through thigh-high drifts, to the open field behind our house. Our four Australian shepherds ran ahead, with Hannah Jane, as usual, leading the way.
They romped with abandon, enjoying this winter gift, tunneling through the snow, emerging after a distance, looking like pure white sheep.
At one point, we noticed that Hannah moved away from the pack and stood apart, with her cheeks puffing in-and-out like bellows. She had a voracious appetite, so we assumed she’d found some edible contraband. We called to her, waving a biscuit, hoping she’d drop whatever she was mouthing, and come for the treat. But she continued to puff her cheeks.
I stood in front of her demanding she "drop" whatever was in her mouth. Always obedient, Hannah Jane hesitated, bellowing her cheeks one last time, before opening her lips. A tiny bird fluttered out and flew away.
She’d found the poor creature half-frozen in a snow drift, and thawed it out in the shelter of her mouth.
A few months later, our oldest dog, Maggie Rose, awoke totally blind (she was diagnosed with Horner’s Syndrome, a condition resulting in sudden but temporary blindness). We could see the panicked expression on Maggie’s face as she bumped into furniture. Hannah Jane took command of the situation. She moved her body against Maggie’s, and led her inch-by-inch from the bedroom, guiding her gently down the stairs, one at a time, safely to our kitchen. Once there, she and Maggie walked back-and-forth from the water and food bowls, pacing off the steps needed to negotiate the room. Then it was on to the rest of the house, where Hannah steered her sister away from chairs and tables with a gentle nudge. This devotion and attentiveness persisted over the four weeks of Maggie’s blindness.
The following year, Maggie, then fifteen, was stricken with a temporary vestibular disorder which made her so dizzy she couldn’t lift her head, even to eat. Hourly, Linda fed Maggie baby food placed on her finger tip. As Linda sat on the floor beside Maggie, so too did Hannah, under whose nose Linda passed the nourishment. Never once did Hannah attempt to lick the tasty stuff; instead, her presence comforted her ailing sister.
Hannah became the instant baby nurse the moment we brought new puppies into the family. She never minded their futile, but vigorous attempts to nurse at her teats. She housebroke each new puppy within days, and enforced the house rules even-handedly.
Hannah Jane’s birthday would have been January 15th. We lost her at age nine to a deadly cancer. She was an extraordinarily intelligent dog, but most of all, had a singular desire to extend her nurturing care to all creatures in need.
We nursed Hannah until the very end.
Mark Rubinstein
Author, “Mad Dog House”
They romped with abandon, enjoying this winter gift, tunneling through the snow, emerging after a distance, looking like pure white sheep.
At one point, we noticed that Hannah moved away from the pack and stood apart, with her cheeks puffing in-and-out like bellows. She had a voracious appetite, so we assumed she’d found some edible contraband. We called to her, waving a biscuit, hoping she’d drop whatever she was mouthing, and come for the treat. But she continued to puff her cheeks.
I stood in front of her demanding she "drop" whatever was in her mouth. Always obedient, Hannah Jane hesitated, bellowing her cheeks one last time, before opening her lips. A tiny bird fluttered out and flew away.
She’d found the poor creature half-frozen in a snow drift, and thawed it out in the shelter of her mouth.
A few months later, our oldest dog, Maggie Rose, awoke totally blind (she was diagnosed with Horner’s Syndrome, a condition resulting in sudden but temporary blindness). We could see the panicked expression on Maggie’s face as she bumped into furniture. Hannah Jane took command of the situation. She moved her body against Maggie’s, and led her inch-by-inch from the bedroom, guiding her gently down the stairs, one at a time, safely to our kitchen. Once there, she and Maggie walked back-and-forth from the water and food bowls, pacing off the steps needed to negotiate the room. Then it was on to the rest of the house, where Hannah steered her sister away from chairs and tables with a gentle nudge. This devotion and attentiveness persisted over the four weeks of Maggie’s blindness.
The following year, Maggie, then fifteen, was stricken with a temporary vestibular disorder which made her so dizzy she couldn’t lift her head, even to eat. Hourly, Linda fed Maggie baby food placed on her finger tip. As Linda sat on the floor beside Maggie, so too did Hannah, under whose nose Linda passed the nourishment. Never once did Hannah attempt to lick the tasty stuff; instead, her presence comforted her ailing sister.
Hannah became the instant baby nurse the moment we brought new puppies into the family. She never minded their futile, but vigorous attempts to nurse at her teats. She housebroke each new puppy within days, and enforced the house rules even-handedly.
Hannah Jane’s birthday would have been January 15th. We lost her at age nine to a deadly cancer. She was an extraordinarily intelligent dog, but most of all, had a singular desire to extend her nurturing care to all creatures in need.
We nursed Hannah until the very end.
Mark Rubinstein
Author, “Mad Dog House”
January 12, 2013
The Horror of Newtown
In an earlier post, I made comments about what occurred in Newtown and gave an overview of the problem, primarily from a psychiatrist’s perspective. I do, however, have some specific comments that while difficult to implement, might help reduce the likelihood of such tragedies occurring with frequency.
We hear public service announcements about how heart attacks can kill, or that cancer can kill, along with advice that early diagnosis and intervention save lives. The public airwaves carry messages about childhood asthma, cystic fibrosis, obesity and diabetes. Yet, nothing is ever stated that severe mental illness (depression, some forms of schizophrenia) can kill as well. These are unmentionables in the media. We need public service announcements to help destigmatize these disorders because they can kill—the afflicted person as well as others.
Our culture and entertainment have changed drastically. There used to be one family TV with a limited number of stations. Today, a house may have three or more televisions (with 600 stations) and it’s typical for each kid to have a bedroom TV. Or to have a computer (or handheld device) on which music, videos, and the Internet can be streamed. There’s less entertainment today that’s life-affirming; there’s much more filled with anger, violence and a nihilistic world view. Parents must be more aware of their children’s entertainment fare in today’s, multi-modal, digitalized (and increasingly desensitizing) world. I’m not talking about banning or trampling freedom of speech. I’m simply saying we must stop supporting some entertainment by not buying into that which glorifies hatred and violence.
Parents should stop trying to be “friends” to their kids. Empathy with and understanding our children are fine, but they don’t mean we relinquish responsibility or authority. Too many parents seem to do just that.
Parents must band together to guide their children and promote a more positive world view. Parents of kids who are friendly must speak with each other and be aware of their kids’ activities and access to the Internet, video games, and music. Yes, parents are working and have full lives; but to ignore these issues is to invite trouble with possibly tragic consequences.
Kids should be encouraged to inform their parents or teachers about any “strange” behavior or verbal pronouncements by a friend or classmate. They should be dissuaded from feeling this is somehow “ratting out” another kid. Rather, it’s an obligation to everyone to report these things. After all, we’re all in this life together.
Parents should be exquisitely aware of any entertainment that debases authority figures or any group of people for any reason.
And from a psychiatric perspective, let’s face it: it’s a fact of life that some troubled people should never own or have access to a weapon of any kind. There should be strict mental health background checks of anyone wishing to purchase a weapon, for any reason. This certainly doesn’t infringe on any sane person’s right to bear arms.
I recently watched two films that powerfully depict the erosion of respect young people have for school, parents and authority. They depict the coarsening of our culture and its effects on young people. The first is Detachment which paints a bleak portrait of an inner city public school, and the burned out ennui affecting the teachers, along with the struggle of poor youngsters to find anything positive in their lives. There’s a scene in which not a single parent shows up for Open School Day.
The second film is Margaret, which takes place in a Manhattan private school. While the film dives into issues of right and wrong, it also depicts the students’ lack of respect for teachers and each other. And it tellingly portrays a mother’s preoccupation with her career to the extent whereby she doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on with her seventeen year old daughter.
We must also revisit HIPPA regulations about patients’ privacy rights. Today, the mother of a twenty year old Paranoid Schizophrenic whose behavior is erratic and deteriorating, cannot ask her son’s treating psychiatrist about his treatment, even though he lives under her roof and depends on her for everything—food, clothing, and shelter. It defies common sense.
Yes, there are laws, rules, regulations and the Constitution. But what we need as much as anything is common sense. Unless we use common sense in making adjustments to the scourge of mass killings that has spread across our country, we will all be victims, again and again.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House”
We hear public service announcements about how heart attacks can kill, or that cancer can kill, along with advice that early diagnosis and intervention save lives. The public airwaves carry messages about childhood asthma, cystic fibrosis, obesity and diabetes. Yet, nothing is ever stated that severe mental illness (depression, some forms of schizophrenia) can kill as well. These are unmentionables in the media. We need public service announcements to help destigmatize these disorders because they can kill—the afflicted person as well as others.
Our culture and entertainment have changed drastically. There used to be one family TV with a limited number of stations. Today, a house may have three or more televisions (with 600 stations) and it’s typical for each kid to have a bedroom TV. Or to have a computer (or handheld device) on which music, videos, and the Internet can be streamed. There’s less entertainment today that’s life-affirming; there’s much more filled with anger, violence and a nihilistic world view. Parents must be more aware of their children’s entertainment fare in today’s, multi-modal, digitalized (and increasingly desensitizing) world. I’m not talking about banning or trampling freedom of speech. I’m simply saying we must stop supporting some entertainment by not buying into that which glorifies hatred and violence.
Parents should stop trying to be “friends” to their kids. Empathy with and understanding our children are fine, but they don’t mean we relinquish responsibility or authority. Too many parents seem to do just that.
Parents must band together to guide their children and promote a more positive world view. Parents of kids who are friendly must speak with each other and be aware of their kids’ activities and access to the Internet, video games, and music. Yes, parents are working and have full lives; but to ignore these issues is to invite trouble with possibly tragic consequences.
Kids should be encouraged to inform their parents or teachers about any “strange” behavior or verbal pronouncements by a friend or classmate. They should be dissuaded from feeling this is somehow “ratting out” another kid. Rather, it’s an obligation to everyone to report these things. After all, we’re all in this life together.
Parents should be exquisitely aware of any entertainment that debases authority figures or any group of people for any reason.
And from a psychiatric perspective, let’s face it: it’s a fact of life that some troubled people should never own or have access to a weapon of any kind. There should be strict mental health background checks of anyone wishing to purchase a weapon, for any reason. This certainly doesn’t infringe on any sane person’s right to bear arms.
I recently watched two films that powerfully depict the erosion of respect young people have for school, parents and authority. They depict the coarsening of our culture and its effects on young people. The first is Detachment which paints a bleak portrait of an inner city public school, and the burned out ennui affecting the teachers, along with the struggle of poor youngsters to find anything positive in their lives. There’s a scene in which not a single parent shows up for Open School Day.
The second film is Margaret, which takes place in a Manhattan private school. While the film dives into issues of right and wrong, it also depicts the students’ lack of respect for teachers and each other. And it tellingly portrays a mother’s preoccupation with her career to the extent whereby she doesn’t have a clue about what’s going on with her seventeen year old daughter.
We must also revisit HIPPA regulations about patients’ privacy rights. Today, the mother of a twenty year old Paranoid Schizophrenic whose behavior is erratic and deteriorating, cannot ask her son’s treating psychiatrist about his treatment, even though he lives under her roof and depends on her for everything—food, clothing, and shelter. It defies common sense.
Yes, there are laws, rules, regulations and the Constitution. But what we need as much as anything is common sense. Unless we use common sense in making adjustments to the scourge of mass killings that has spread across our country, we will all be victims, again and again.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House”
January 4, 2013
A Tragedy Waiting to Happen
For a change, I won’t write about crime or anything relating to crime novels. I’m going to write about my oldest dog, Hank Williams. He’s eleven, and with advancing age, his arthritis, along with tendon injures, has slowed him down.
I recently had a scare when Hank became lethargic, lost interest in food, and refused to play with his younger sister, Jenny Belle. After a few days of rest, he recovered from what was a painful orthopedic injury, but the incident left me with the gnawing feeling that in the not-too-distant future, our days together will be over.
Having been through so many dogs’ lives over the years, I know many people view having and loving a dog is—among other things—a tragedy waiting to happen. While that’s a bit nihilistic, it’s understandable since Nature’s biggest mistake is making the lives of dogs too short.
I can barely put into the words the feelings I have for Hank. If I try to describe his loyalty, his unwavering affection and devotion, along with the innocence and beauty of his face—of all of him—I could go on forever, yet not cover half of what’s so wonderful about my son. Yes, I look upon him as a son. And if I could manage to convey my feelings, the sense of love and belonging he instills in me, if I could express it—however inadequately—it would bring me to tears.
I could attempt to describe Hank’s soulfulness, his indefinable ability to perceive my moods and be a loving companion, but I know the depth of his attributes makes any such attempt feeble—totally inadequate. Some things are ineffable, simply defy description.
Maybe the best way to capture the spirit and soul of a dog is to relate part of the Pueblo legend of the earth’s creation.
In the beginning, when the Great Spirit created the earth and sky, man and all the animals stood on a great plain. Suddenly, a chasm formed in the earth. Man was left standing alone while the animals remained on the other side.
Man called across the chasm, “Who among you will join me?”
Of all the animals, only the dog leapt across the chasm and stood at man’s side.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House”
I recently had a scare when Hank became lethargic, lost interest in food, and refused to play with his younger sister, Jenny Belle. After a few days of rest, he recovered from what was a painful orthopedic injury, but the incident left me with the gnawing feeling that in the not-too-distant future, our days together will be over.
Having been through so many dogs’ lives over the years, I know many people view having and loving a dog is—among other things—a tragedy waiting to happen. While that’s a bit nihilistic, it’s understandable since Nature’s biggest mistake is making the lives of dogs too short.
I can barely put into the words the feelings I have for Hank. If I try to describe his loyalty, his unwavering affection and devotion, along with the innocence and beauty of his face—of all of him—I could go on forever, yet not cover half of what’s so wonderful about my son. Yes, I look upon him as a son. And if I could manage to convey my feelings, the sense of love and belonging he instills in me, if I could express it—however inadequately—it would bring me to tears.
I could attempt to describe Hank’s soulfulness, his indefinable ability to perceive my moods and be a loving companion, but I know the depth of his attributes makes any such attempt feeble—totally inadequate. Some things are ineffable, simply defy description.
Maybe the best way to capture the spirit and soul of a dog is to relate part of the Pueblo legend of the earth’s creation.
In the beginning, when the Great Spirit created the earth and sky, man and all the animals stood on a great plain. Suddenly, a chasm formed in the earth. Man was left standing alone while the animals remained on the other side.
Man called across the chasm, “Who among you will join me?”
Of all the animals, only the dog leapt across the chasm and stood at man’s side.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, “Mad Dog House”
A Tragedy Waiting to Happen
For a change, I won’t write about crime or anything relating to crime novels. I’m going to write about my oldest dog, Hank Williams. He’s eleven, and with advancing age, his arthritis, along with tendon injures, has slowed him down.
I recently had a scare when Hank became lethargic, lost interest in food, and refused to play with his younger sister, Jenny Belle. After a few days of rest, he recovered from what was a painful orthopedic injury, but the incident left me with the gnawing feeling...
December 28, 2012
Why Crime Fiction?
I’m often asked why I write crime-thriller novels. Sometimes, I think the answer is easy: I love to read them, so I write them, too.
But why crime? You can tap the range of human emotions and experiences in virtually any genre, so what about crime novels is so attractive?
I suppose partly it’s because these things could actually occur—they could really happen to people like you and me. I mean, the chance you’ll encounter a ghost, be transported to another planet, or have some paranormal or sci-fi experience is pretty remote. Often, it’s pure fantasy. Basically, these aren’t possible. But you could very well be the victim of some thug’s violent intentions, or end up being the target of extortion, or threats, or you could unwittingly run afoul of some criminal enterprise.
In other words, crime novels tap into the prospect of possibility which makes them ever more frightening. These things could actually occur.
But more than fear drives these novels. Greed, lust, avarice, revenge, cowardice, nobility—all run rampant in crime novels. And it’s vicarious, so the tension, anxiety, and outright fear occur to someone else—not you. You can live it through a character’s experiences, not your own. That makes it tolerable—even enjoyable. You can pull back anytime you want.
Even more striking (and this is not limited to crime fiction) is that many characters in crime novels are larger-than-life. If they’re well-developed they draw the reader inexorably into their spheres.
Think of Vito Corleone in The Godfather, of Harry Bosch in Michael Connelly’s novels, or imagine Ben and Chon in Don Winslow’s novel Savages, or Eddie Coyle in George V. Higgins’ classic crime novel The Friends of Eddie Coyle (made into a movie starring Robert Mitchum). Or think about characters in novels like Get Shorty, by Elmore Leonard, or those in Mystic River, by Dennis Lehane. (Also a great movie by Clint Eastwood, starring Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and other fabulous actors). They live and breathe on the page. You can’t help but love some, and hate others. You end up worrying about and rooting for some, while you loathe and want to see the demise of others.
Maybe it all boils down to basics—the Good versus Evil dichotomy of human existence. Maybe it’s more complicated than that. I’m not really sure.
I just love a good crime thriller.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, Mad Dog House
But why crime? You can tap the range of human emotions and experiences in virtually any genre, so what about crime novels is so attractive?
I suppose partly it’s because these things could actually occur—they could really happen to people like you and me. I mean, the chance you’ll encounter a ghost, be transported to another planet, or have some paranormal or sci-fi experience is pretty remote. Often, it’s pure fantasy. Basically, these aren’t possible. But you could very well be the victim of some thug’s violent intentions, or end up being the target of extortion, or threats, or you could unwittingly run afoul of some criminal enterprise.
In other words, crime novels tap into the prospect of possibility which makes them ever more frightening. These things could actually occur.
But more than fear drives these novels. Greed, lust, avarice, revenge, cowardice, nobility—all run rampant in crime novels. And it’s vicarious, so the tension, anxiety, and outright fear occur to someone else—not you. You can live it through a character’s experiences, not your own. That makes it tolerable—even enjoyable. You can pull back anytime you want.
Even more striking (and this is not limited to crime fiction) is that many characters in crime novels are larger-than-life. If they’re well-developed they draw the reader inexorably into their spheres.
Think of Vito Corleone in The Godfather, of Harry Bosch in Michael Connelly’s novels, or imagine Ben and Chon in Don Winslow’s novel Savages, or Eddie Coyle in George V. Higgins’ classic crime novel The Friends of Eddie Coyle (made into a movie starring Robert Mitchum). Or think about characters in novels like Get Shorty, by Elmore Leonard, or those in Mystic River, by Dennis Lehane. (Also a great movie by Clint Eastwood, starring Sean Penn, Tim Robbins, and other fabulous actors). They live and breathe on the page. You can’t help but love some, and hate others. You end up worrying about and rooting for some, while you loathe and want to see the demise of others.
Maybe it all boils down to basics—the Good versus Evil dichotomy of human existence. Maybe it’s more complicated than that. I’m not really sure.
I just love a good crime thriller.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, Mad Dog House
Why Crime Fiction?
I’m often asked why I write crime-thriller novels. Sometimes, I think the answer is easy: I love to read them, so I write them, too.
But why crime? You can tap the range of human emotions and experiences in virtually any genre, so what about crime novels is so attractive?
I suppose partly it’s because these things could actually occur—they could really happen to people like you and me. I mean, the chance you’ll encounter a ghost, be transported to another planet, or have some paranormal or sci-...
December 24, 2012
How Haunting It Is: Starting A New Novel
Published December 22, 2012. | By Mark Rubinstein. | Edit.
It’s always daunting to begin writing a new novel. I’m filled with questions: will I find the right voice? Will it come to me the way the others have? Will I run out of ideas? And a million others. A sense of dread pervades me, and I wonder if I’m half the writer I’ve been told I am. If I ponder these questions too long, paralytic inertia can take over.
Is it a crisis in confidence?
I don’t think so, at least not for me. It’s the usual apprehension I feel—a sense of dread—before I begin the creative trek through the minefield of the writing process. For me, it seems the natural prelude to the hard work (and the pleasure) of writing, of creating. Yes, I have a skeletal outline of the novel’s basic trajectory (or part of it) but that can never ensure full-blooded characters and a rich plot with a compelling narrative drive.
Once I barge past that feeling of immobilization, the writing assumes its own energy. Thoughts come that were never there; ideas pour onto the page. Pictures, sounds, and smells–all coming from some deep mental recess–abound, as if by some strange magic. But it’s not magic. It’s the writer’s marathon, the never-ending quest to capture in words the innermost thoughts and feelings of characters and their situations.
Will this dreadful apprehension ever leave me as I begin a new novel? I don’t think so. Is this what every writer experiences at the beginning of a new creation? I don’t know. I can only speak for myself.
I don’t believe there’s such a thing as “writer’s block.” I think some people just can’t get past the fear and unwillingness to begin doing the hard work a novel demands–the brutal slog of writing.
Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House
It’s always daunting to begin writing a new novel. I’m filled with questions: will I find the right voice? Will it come to me the way the others have? Will I run out of ideas? And a million others. A sense of dread pervades me, and I wonder if I’m half the writer I’ve been told I am. If I ponder these questions too long, paralytic inertia can take over.
Is it a crisis in confidence?
I don’t think so, at least not for me. It’s the usual apprehension I feel—a sense of dread—before I begin the creative trek through the minefield of the writing process. For me, it seems the natural prelude to the hard work (and the pleasure) of writing, of creating. Yes, I have a skeletal outline of the novel’s basic trajectory (or part of it) but that can never ensure full-blooded characters and a rich plot with a compelling narrative drive.
Once I barge past that feeling of immobilization, the writing assumes its own energy. Thoughts come that were never there; ideas pour onto the page. Pictures, sounds, and smells–all coming from some deep mental recess–abound, as if by some strange magic. But it’s not magic. It’s the writer’s marathon, the never-ending quest to capture in words the innermost thoughts and feelings of characters and their situations.
Will this dreadful apprehension ever leave me as I begin a new novel? I don’t think so. Is this what every writer experiences at the beginning of a new creation? I don’t know. I can only speak for myself.
I don’t believe there’s such a thing as “writer’s block.” I think some people just can’t get past the fear and unwillingness to begin doing the hard work a novel demands–the brutal slog of writing.
Mark Rubinstein
Author, Mad Dog House
December 22, 2012
How Haunting It Is: Starting A New Novel
It’s always daunting to begin writing a new novel. I’m filled with questions: will I find the right voice? Will it come to me the way the others have? Will I run out of ideas? And a million others. A sense of dread pervades me, and I wonder if I’m half the writer I’ve been told I am. If I ponder these questions too long, paralytic inertia can take over.
Is it a crisis in confidence?
I don’t think so, at least not for me. It’s the usual apprehension I feel—a sense of dread—before I begin the cre...
December 17, 2012
A Tragedy
I won’t repeat the platitudes and we will continue to hear about the horror that occurred in Newtown, Connecticut
As a psychiatrist, I can say it’s very likely this young man was a disturbed and tortured soul whose inner demons exploded on that horrific day. I’m struck by the fact that in each of these mass killings—whether in Aurora, Colorado, Arizona, Virginia Tech, a shopping mall, a high school, an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut, or wherever these horrific events have occurred—the shooter was always a young, loner male with deep-rooted mental problems that were inadequately treated.
Invariably, after a few days of media frenzy and semi-soul searching, we go about our lives. Except for those directly affected, the tragedy fades into the background. Of course, the effects ripple outward to the victims' families, friends, the neighborhood, the town, and eventually, to all of us as a nation.
We must reflect on ourselves as a culture, on what we value as entertainment; and we’re obligated to make changes in many ways: first and foremost, we must change our mental health delivery system. Otherwise, these tragedies will occur again and again.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, Mad Dog House
As a psychiatrist, I can say it’s very likely this young man was a disturbed and tortured soul whose inner demons exploded on that horrific day. I’m struck by the fact that in each of these mass killings—whether in Aurora, Colorado, Arizona, Virginia Tech, a shopping mall, a high school, an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut, or wherever these horrific events have occurred—the shooter was always a young, loner male with deep-rooted mental problems that were inadequately treated.
Invariably, after a few days of media frenzy and semi-soul searching, we go about our lives. Except for those directly affected, the tragedy fades into the background. Of course, the effects ripple outward to the victims' families, friends, the neighborhood, the town, and eventually, to all of us as a nation.
We must reflect on ourselves as a culture, on what we value as entertainment; and we’re obligated to make changes in many ways: first and foremost, we must change our mental health delivery system. Otherwise, these tragedies will occur again and again.
Mark Rubinstein,
Author, Mad Dog House
A Tragedy
I won’t repeat the platitudes and we will continue to hear about the horror that occurred in Newtown, Connecticut
As a psychiatrist, I can say it’s very likely this young man was a disturbed and tortured soul whose inner demons exploded on that horrific day. I’m struck by the fact that in each of these mass killings—whether in Aurora, Colorado, Arizona, Virginia Tech, a shopping mall, a high school, an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut, or wherever these horrific events have occurred—...
