"Each time I come, I learn something new," said Ackman, 52, who visits from California three or four times a year. "They have a lot of bases covered that you couldn't cover at home."

Rutledge is in charge of ensuring the plan is carried out.

Progress comes slowly for most individuals at the center, meaning staff members must have an abundance of patience.

"Wherever they happen to be, you try to take them just a little bit farther," Rutledge said. "You're not going to see miracles every day."

Rain nor snow

About half of the center's residents have difficulty expressing themselves.

"Even though these guys cannot communicate, we find a way to recognize their likes and dislikes, what they want and don't want," said Judy Penrod, a lead developmentalist. "You learn to communicate in whatever way works best for them."

For Roger it is with gestures, facial expressions and some words and short phrases. But he seems to understand everything. And he's not shy about expressing himself.

"Mailman" is another of his favorite words. He lets people know he is the mailman. The pronunciation isn't clear but the meaning is.

"I think Roger is probably our social butterfly," said developmentalist Myrna Loveless. "He knows everybody."

That becomes evident when he dons his U.S. Postal Service hat and developmentalist Gary Keller pushes him on his appointed rounds. A maintenance man and a secretary get a Roger greeting as he delivers their mail.

To say it's enthusiastic would be understating it.

A Roger greeting goes something like this: He eyes a friend and lets loose a guttural scream that crescendos in pitch and decibels. It sound like he's on a wild amusement park ride. At the same time, his legs move up and down as if he's going to bounce right out of his wheelchair.

If a Roger greeting were physical, it would be a bear hug.

Purchasing agent Sarah Evans is one of many on the receiving end.

"That means he's happy," she said. "There are several mailmen. He's one of the favorites. He responds to us."

Beautiful noise

Music is another highlight in Roger's week.

"He just puts his whole heart into it," Penrod said.

Roger is in the middle of seven wheelchairs arranged in a semicircle. Music therapists Alison Wendel, Marie Bigelow and Beth Buehne are singing a welcome song to each person. He wriggles in anticipation of their getting to him. He's had a hard time waiting his turn in the past.