Conrad the Healer

INTRODUCTION

I reckon you've heard of the name Conrad Sheldon; else you wouldn't be here. Everyone in Hicksville knows his name. He was born with a rare learning disorder. All throughout his days, he was licked in every task by no fault of his own. He struggled as he might to spell, but he served his purpose well.

You see, Conrad Sheldon had a heart of pure gold. Most folks, well, they never back down from a fight. Conrad was different. Conrad would face a fight with a kind of innocence about him. Some of them folks wrote it off as mere ignorance. Conrad just sought to share in his love of life. He knew nothing of resentment. Hicksville is a better place having known him.

If you should permit me the time, I'll tell you more about Conrad Sheldon.

What was that? The next bus out of Hicksville aint for another three hours yet. Sure, we have plenty of time. Allow me to start from the beginning...

CHAPTER 1: FARTHER SON

Part 1: Reintroduction

Conrad Sheldon was born to Roy and Petunia Sheldon of Sunnybrook Lane. Roy, the only son of a Jewish household, and Petunia, a devout Catholic. They weren't always in agreement with one another, but they knew in their hearts that which was best for their children.

Their daughter, Vespa, was born a few years after Conrad, and by that point, Roy had taken a job as a high school math teacher. He grew ever more curious with computers. They were but a strange contraption to most folks at the time, but he desired to understand them more fully.

Roy eventually mastered a multitude of programming languages. A skill that would prove most useful to Conrad in his own quest to understand the world around him. With the help of his father, Conrad might even live out the fantasy of a king.

Psychoeducation: Preschool

This hand written letter (which I have copied word for word) predates my entry into Orchard Dale Elementary by two years. It appears to be penned by my maternal grandmother, Allene. It paints a clearer picture of my childhood emotional state. I previously assumed the problems to have begun in elementary school. In fact, my wave of destruction began much sooner. For example, I drove a car into my grandmother’s house at the age of two.

Psychoeducation: The Diagnostic Center

In January of 1991, I began attending The Diagnostic Center in Los Angeles, and thus, the Rossier School chapter came to a close. I wrote at length about this time in my life for Nintendo Rhapsody. It may not have been my first encounter with Nintendo, but it was certainly quite impressionable. When given the opportunity to spend time with the NES in the recreation room, I could easily find myself so entranced I would, for a brief moment, forget I was living away from home. My memory of the actual school environment at The Diagnostic Center remains a bit fuzzy, but some of the reports I have discovered may shed some light on the subject. This is a very much abridged version, by the way. There are twenty pages of mostly boring, deeply versed statistics. "This thing reads like stereo instructions!"