Near the Piggly Wiggly at Sandfly, it's no big deal to see a linebacker-sized man hitchhiking in a tuxedo jacket with tails, a Stetson hat with a turkey feather, chunky turquoise jewelry and Birkenstocks.

That's just Harold. He's lived here all his life.

Harold looks like a cross between an aging hippie, a Navajo chief and a philharmonic conductor. With his shoulder-length grey hair, chiseled jaw, and sharp nose, he remains strikingly handsome. Harold says he used to be addicted to alcohol and opiates, but now he walks a path of righteousness.

Some might call Harold eccentric.

In younger days, he hitchhiked to Texas to try out for the Dallas Cowboys. He made the team but flunked the physical since he had lost a kidney in a shooting (another interesting story). Another time, he thumbed his way to Miami to work for Johnny Cash.

A conversation with Harold resembles a conversation with Dustin Hoffman in "Rainman." Out of the blue, he will launch into a numerology explanation of the spiritual significance of a word or letter. According to Harold, "X, the 24th letter of the alphabet, symbolizes Jesus hearing his disciples calling out to him for help and walking across the water (arms crossed in an X for emphasis) to save them just like he does for you and me."

Harold views the good folks who work at Georgia Regional Hospital like he views Jesus. They are the experts who rescue people in their stormy time of need. Their crisis stabilization programs enable people like Harold to regulate their medications, face their addictions, and prevent them from possibly becoming a danger to themselves or society.

Like so many others who struggle with addiction or mental illness, Harold is a good person, not a criminal or crazy man who needs to be locked away.

It's hard to fathom how the Georgia Department of Human Resources can close Savannah's Georgia Regional Hospital in less than six months as part of their privatization and consolidation plan. With the collapse of the Savannah Area Behavioral Health Collaborative ("SABC") and the fragile state of mental health services in our region, the timing couldn't be worse.

Born out of necessity, SABC had the best of intentions. A sincere group of community-based providers saw mental health patients falling through the cracks and collaborated creatively to serve them.

Unfortunately, the group imploded amid a clash of personalities and finger-pointing as the challenges proved too great.

To place these services on our already underfunded public health department hardly makes sense. Moving forensic services to Milledgeville will strain our law enforcement agencies as they chauffeur prisoners back and forth across the state. Our local jails will become de facto mental wards and our emergency rooms will need to staff up for an influx.

There's a plan pending to restructure DHR and create a separate department to oversee mental health, so isn't this premature? Why Savannah first? If it's such a great idea, can't Columbus or Rome be the guinea pigs?

How exactly does a for-profit entity make money off serving the poorest of the poor and the most chronic of the chronic?

Is our current mental health system working? No. Could it work better? Absolutely.

Is the DHR privatization proposal the right solution? Maybe or maybe not, but shouldn't we be certain before we shut down the only services still standing?

At this point, there are more questions than answers. The patients, elected officials, health care providers, law enforcement agencies and the taxpayers all deserve more information than they have been given. They deserve a voice in the decision.

Harold says he'd like to sit down on the couch with Gov. Sonny Perdue, talk with him about bass fishin' and tell him why Georgia Regional is important.

Knowing Harold, he might just hitchhike to the governor's mansion for a chat.

Amy Haywood Hughes, a Savannah writer, is a Partner with Hughes Public Affairs.

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