On Dementia

Posted on September 28, 2026 by richp45198

Today I was talking to my brother on the phone. He expressed concern about my mother and whether she was lonely. He was wondering if perhaps he should go back East to visit. I told him not to worry, that Mom was fine. My mother has been dead for 32 years. My brother suffers from dementia. My father who is deceased also suffered from dementia.

The technical term for dementia is Major Neurocognitive Disorder. There are several forms of dementia to include Alzheimer’s. My brother’s and father’s dementia is called vascular dementia since it relates to strokes.

For the last four years of his life, my father lived in a nearby eldercare facility. I used to visit him and my wife once observed “When you come home from seeing your Dad, you often seem sad.” And indeed when I visited him, I might notice a small bit of evidence that he was losing his past and in some ways losing himself. One of the last times I saw him, he looked at a picture of himself and my Mom from before they were married and asked “Who’s that guy?” I said, “That’s you Dad with Mom before you were married.” He sat pondering then said “She’s gone, isn’t she?” My mother had been dead 6 years.

My father had issues with outbursts. Although he never laid a hand on me when I was young, he was kicked out of one assisted living facility for getting aggressive. My brother also has had these issues such that I have received phone calls from the nursing home that he was having a “mental health crisis” , which meant that he was cursing and yelling.

I know my Dad struggled spiritually with the strokes and dementia. He once said that he believed that the strokes were punishment for his sins. If there was a blessing to the dementia, he seemed to have forgotten his sins toward the end.

What I do know is that dementia presents a challenge for both family and the person suffering from dementia. Family members may struggle spiritually as I do in making sense of what is happening to their loved one. Some family members maintain denial, perhaps until a crisis forces the issue. One person I know avoided their father’s encroaching dementia until he left the stove on, burning food and resulting in the fire department being called by a neighbor. Others may be angry, blaming the person suffering from dementia, saying things like “He should have taken better care of himself” or “This wouldn’t have happened if she didn’t drink so much.” Still other family members may simply stay away as much as possible.

Family members may also struggle with the inevitable reversal of roles where the child/partner becomes the parent. When I had to confront my father about his outbursts, he would become childlike, asking “Do you still love me?” I also had to set some boundaries as a parent does with a child. One night after I visited him, my father called demanding that I go to the store and get him some milk. He claimed “If I don’t get milk, I’ll die!” I told him without anger “You won’t die. I’ll be buying you milk in the morning” and hung up.

The person suffering from dementia can obviously be dealing with fear, especially as they sense early dementia within themselves. My father would try to joke about it, saying things like “I’m going goofy!” Others may have their own form of denial, saying things like “It’s not dementia. I’m just getting old.” As family members try to intervene because of concerns recalling issues like driving or finances, the person facing dementia may become defensive. Still others may project their anger with words such as “I’m fine! Leave me alone.”

I don’t have dementia, at least not yet. But I do struggle spiritually with the reality of dementia in those I love. Not surprisingly, I get angry with God about it. We don’t really know yet what causes dementia but I do know it can strike anyone. Like the rain, dementia can fall on the just and the unjust. I know this yet I nonetheless have my own outcry of “why him?” or “why her?” Some people may raise the issue of God’s will. For me that’s not a comfort.

I do know that spiritually I have a choice in how to respond. I can struggle with accepting that dementia can be as much a part of life as illness or death. I can try to trust that God can assist me in finding comfort and care for my loved one. And, yes, I may even pray that God take my loved one while at the same time trying to accept that time of death is not my decision to make.

As a family member, I can also seek meaning in what is happening. Clearly I have had much to learn and the illnesses of my brother and father have helped me in that regard. In dealing with my brother (with whom I never had a great relationship), I have prayed for patience and wisdom. Both are qualities with which I need some help.

And what of the spiritual needs of the person suffering from dementia? Interestingly, there has actually been research into the impact of spirituality on care of the patient with dementia. An overview of this research can be found in the journal Healthcare (May 2023). The authors review other studies and conclude that identifying and addressing spiritual needs of patients suffering from dementia can have a positive impact on its progression. The authors note that addressing spiritual needs of those suffering dementia is often neglected in both theory and practice.

Helping the dementia patient tap into his/her spiritual story and life can be a great comfort. St. John’s Dementia Resource Center suggests several option:

  1. There is the obvious practice of praying with the patient/family member, praying especially for comfort and peacefulness.
  2. Sharing specific prayers can be a comfort as well as stimulate memory functions. Favorite Bible verses can also be shared.
  3. For those unable to recall the words of prayers, there is good evidence that they can still respond to music and may remember a specific hymn. Thus the dementia patient may not remember the Lord’s Prayer but may indeed recall the words and tune of “Amazing Grace”

The loved ones of a person facing dimension can also benefit from spiritual awareness and practice, finding both comfort and realistic hope. There is one other important spiritual lesson that both my father and my brother taught me.

Living in the now has been a popular psychologic theme for some time, being a focus not only of some therapy but also other practices such as meditation. However, I have experienced that lesson strongly with both my father and my brother. My Dad taught me to savor the moment as he enjoyed a bowl of oatmeal. He taught me the power of living in the now when he would light up with joy when I came to visit. My wife came with me the last time we visited and she had dressed up and put on some make-up. He joyfully pointed at her and said “Isn’t she something?!” Similarly when I go to visit my brother, I will bring along a Subway sandwich which he greatly relishes. They both reminded me not only to live in the now but to cherish what the Shakers call simple gifts.

I hate the dementia that has taken their pasts but I have come to see that, by being a part of their journeys, I have learned some important spiritual lessons. And for that I am grateful to them both.

RESOURCES

St John’s Resource Center mentioned above can be found at https://dementia.stjohnsliving.org/spirituality-in-dementia-caregiving

The Dementia Society of America is also an excellent resource at https://www.dementiasociety.org/?msclkid=34ee1dbf577617d58f8b7705b0daa898

Finally when my dad had his first stroke, I read a book titled The 36-Hour Day by Nancy L. Mace and Peter V. Rabins . It was very helpful.

Feel free to add as a comment any other resources of which you are aware

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Gander, Newfoundland

Posted on September 7, 2026 by richp45198

In anticipation of the 25th anniversary of 9/11, I wanted to repost this tribute to the people of Gander and the story of their response to 9/11. During a time of a disturbing attitude toward Canada among our leaders, this is a reminder of when Canadians responded during our time of need.

Until recently, I’d never heard of Gander,  a Newfoundland town. Then I heard about a broadway musical called Come From Away. That in turn pointed me toward a book titled The Day the World Came to Town; 9/11 in Gander, Newfoundland.

On that terrible day in 2001, airspace over the United States was closed and planes were directed to land immediately. One of the challenges was for planes flying to the States from Europe. Many were directed to Canada. 38 were directed to the airport in Gander, a town of some ten thousand people. Within a matter of hours, their population was increased by over six thousand. No one knew how long these visitors would be on the ground but, as the day progressed, it became clear that the passengers weren’t leaving anytime soon.

The story of how the people of Gander rose to the challenge of providing food and shelter for the passengers is one of the great stories of our time. Among other things, I realized how much I take for granted — taking a shower, having my medications available, having a bed and a blanket, being able to call a loved one. The story of those five days includes things I never would have thought of. As an ex-smoker, for example, I know how uncomfortable nicotine withdrawal can be!

The responsiveness and resourcefulness of the people of Gander is truly impressive. Pharmacists came together to get passengers their prescriptions (one thousand were filled the first day!) Veterinarians came together to tend to pets in the baggage section.  They even found a way to provide Orthodox Jewish passengers with kosher food.

The passengers’ time in Gander is filled with profound personal moments. Villagers responding with compassion to a couple with a firefighter son gone missing after the Towers collapsed.  Two couples trying to console children they’d adopted in Russia. A rabbi making himself available to speak with a villager who had hid his Jewish background.

I am drawn to this story because it offers hope. I and you have been in situations of powerlessness and fear only to have an angel intervene with a tangible offer of help. In Gander, the entire town responded. It is reassuring to know that, during a time that is otherwise typified by senseless violence and self-centered politics, there are some good people in the world. Not saints but simple down-to-earth folks who, on a dark day, responded with true lovingkindness. Mister Rogers once encouraged us to look for “the helpers” during bad times. He would be pleased to know of the people of Gander.

Here is a scene from Come From Away that always moves me. It is a reminder that in times of need we are all one people whatever our beliefs.

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Spiritual Mentor: Fr. Ed Dowling SJ

Posted on August 19, 2026 by richp45198

On a cold night in 1940, Bill W., co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, was lying on his bed above a local AA club building. He was most likely in a deep depression. He had not had a drink but was in dark place. AA was in its early days of struggling. Some members objected to AA splitting off from its spiritual ancestor the Oxford Group. An interview with a reporter interested in profiling AA had not gone well. Bill and his wife Lois had recently lost their home to foreclosure. Bill W., who likely suffered from depression, was feeling on the edge of hopelessness. A member of the club came upstairs and told Bill that some street person was downstairs and wanted to talk to him. Emotionally exhausted, Bill W. nonetheless agreed, thinking this might be another alcoholic seeking help.

Shortly a man dressed in dark clothes and walking with a cane came into Bill’s bedroom. After the man removed his coat, Bill saw the dark suit and Roman collar and realized this man was some sort of minister. Thus began a conversation that Bill W. later referred to as “my second spiritual awakening.” The visitor was Father Ed Dowling SJ.

Fr. Ed was a Jesuit priest from St. Louis who had heard of AA and was eager to learn more about it, hoping it could become a resource to alcoholics in the St. Louis area. He had read Alcoholics Anonymous, largely authored by Bill W., and had seen some parallels between the 12 Steps of Recovery outlined in that book and the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, the founder of the Jesuits.

Fr. Ed spent several hours with Bill W., that night, challenging Bill’s sense of defeat, making a point he would often make that Bill’s experiences of humiliation would be the doorway to humility, the key to any sort of spiritual growth. He challenged Bill to see that the struggles and depression Bill was going through were not interfering with his recovery or the growth of AA but were rather a doorway. For his part, Bill shared much of his own journey, in essence doing a Fifth Step with Fr. Ed.

As Fr. Ed left, he encouraged Bill to keep in touch, adding that, if Bill ever entered into such a place of hopelessness, Fr. Ed would show up and hit him over the head with his shillelagh (an Irish walking stick).

Bill W. would later describe the meeting in this way: “We talked about a lot of things and my spirits kept on rising and presently I began to realize this man radiated a grace that filled the room with a sense of presence. I felt this with great intensity. It was a moving and mysterious experience”

Bill W. would remain connected to Fr. Ed for the rest of Fr. Ed’s life and would refer to Fr. Ed as his spiritual mentor. Fr. Ed for his part would play a significant role not only in bringing AA to St. Louis but in supporting its growth throughout the 1950s. He also played a significant role in expanding the use of the 12 Steps for other issues beyond alcoholism. He would also meet with the journalist Jack Alexander who had interviewed Bill W. and helped that journalist formulate a positive picture of AA. The resulting article in Saturday Evening Post had a major impact on the spreading of AA.

Over the years, Bill W. would share with Fr. Ed his spiritual quest to seek a deeper understanding of his own spirituality. That quest took Bill W. into many areas to include exploring Catholicism, undertaking therapy with a Jungian therapist, spiritism, even LSD. Fr. Ed might challenge such explorations but always with a non-judgmental quality.

Fr. Ed Dowling died in early April 1960. He was 62. Bill W. would say of him “Ed was the greatest human soul I’m sure I shall ever know.”

Fr. Ed Dowling is not well-known in modern AA circles. But then that appears to have been his way. To have impact without attracting attention to himself.

Although not an alcoholic himself, Fr. Ed nonetheless suffered his own challenges. Since his early 30s he lived with increasingly debilitating arthritis and was in fairly constant pain as a result. Thus, he knew that the road to spiritual growth often led through suffering, a point he reiterated to Bill W. the night they first met.

As a person in recovery and as a Catholic, I find Fr. Ed’s story to be moving and inspiring. His grasp of the spirituality of AA and the Twelve Steps, his expansion of the 12 Steps to non-alcoholic populations, his activism on behalf of married couples, his commitment to helping persons of color all point to an extraordinary man. Beyond that, he was a Jesuit. The Jesuits have played a key role in my own journey, having attended a Jesuit high school and Jesuit college. Among many other learnings, the Jesuits taught me to examine any idea. Thus, at one point I was introduced in religion class to the writings of Nietszche. It was an early introduction for the caution I would later encounter in recovery — to avoid “contempt prior to investigation.”

There is not much written about Fr. Ed. Therefore I highly recommend the recent biography Father Ed: the Story of Bill W.’s Spiritual Sponsor by Dawn Eden Goldstein. I am grateful for her book. One of the joys of the recovery path is that there’s always something new to learn, a new voice to hear. At this point in my own journey, that voice is Father Ed Dowling’s

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On Sacred Writings

Posted on July 31, 2026 by richp45198

When we hear the term Sacred Writings, we typically think of the Bible or the Torah or the Koran. Sacred writings usually refer to key written words central to any religion. However, if by Sacred Writings we mean anything, written or otherwise, that has been and continues to be central to our spiritual journey, this opens us up to other ways the God of our understanding may speak to us.

I recently looked back at a list of my personal Sacred Writings, something I wrote some 30 years ago. I saw that the list has changed. Some pieces no longer have the power they did 30 years ago. Other newer pieces have taken their place.

The Bible is still on my list. I am in the process of reading through the Bible for what I believe is the tenth time, something I started after writing my initial list. My relationship with the Bible remains complicated. Some parts remain crushingly boring. Others, e.g. Jeremiah, can be depressing. Other parts continue to sustain me. Some have become more important. Some remain central to my journey. The story of St. Dismas in the Gospel of Luke is one such story. I am currently benefitting from a new understanding of the role of outcry to God in books such as Lamentations.

Henri Nouwen’s The Wounded Healer is still on my list. It is a book that literally changed my life, playing a major role in my embracing recovery. It also became a cornerstone of my work as a psychotherapist.

The chapter “We the Agnostics” in the book Alcoholics Anonymous remains on the list. So does Ferdinand the Bull. These words from the play Our Town by Thornton Wilder continue to challenge me: “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?”

But there have been additions. The 2 volume series The Zen Monkey and the Lotus Flower are collections of Zen Buddhist stories that teach simple lessons of peaceful living. While the stories challenge me to learn more about quieting my mind, somehow they are a comfort, especially stories such as the one on grieving.

C. S. Lewis’ Mere Christianity is not an easy read but continues to challenge me to examine what I really believe about Jesus and His message.

The closing soliloquy from the Film A River Runs Through It is on my list, There is something profound about spiritual connection in these words: “Eventually all things merge into one and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world’s great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Beneath the rocks are the words. And some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.”

The sound of the waterfalls in Yosemite Park and at Elbow Falls are sacred to me, giving me hint of God’s voice. Music too remains sacred and now includes Andrea Bocelli singing “Nessum Dorma”. For me God was present as the audience jumped to their feet cheering him as he held the last note. The hymn “Be Not Afraid” has also become more significant to me. And one piece comes from of all things a video game. “Baba Yetu” is the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili. It’s on my list.

The journey continues and so I imagine the list will continue to change.

Reflection: What is on your list of Sacred Writings? How has it changed over time? Please share any of your list.

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Another Visit from St. Dismas

Posted on July 3, 2026 by richp45198

I have written about St. Dismas before. He keeps dropping into my life and did again recently. I mentioned in another post that Chaplain Emil Kapaun would pray to Dismas when seeking to steal food for his fellow prisoners of war. I came across Dismas again when reading about Fr. Ed Dowling. Fr. Dowling became a spiritual mentor to Bill W., the co-founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. As Fr. Dowling proceeded through his training to become a Jesuit, he was called to select an additional name. He chose Dismas.

I first learned of Dismas through a movie. In the early 1960s, I watched a film titled The Hoodlum Priest, the story of Fr. Charles Dismas Clark SJ of St. Louis. The film portrays the story of Fr. Clark’s establishment of the Dismas House movement to assist those who had been in prison.

In the film, Fr. Clark tells a young woman the story of St. Dismas, also known as the Good Thief. Dismas has stayed with me ever since.

The story of Dismas appears only in the Gospel of St. Luke. He is not identified by name.  In the story he is one of two criminals crucified with Jesus. The other unnamed criminal starts nagging at Jesus, demanding that He do something! Dismas intervenes, in essence putting the other criminal in his place by telling him that they both deserved what they were getting but that Jesus did not. He then turns to Jesus and says “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus gives him the memorable promise “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”

Here is a man who has to have been utterly broken, saying he deserves to be crucified, a tortuous and humiliating way to die. Tradition says he was a thief. It may be that he was guilty of other crimes. Like many of us, he must have been consumed with self-hatred and bitterness. Yet something about the Man hanging next to him broke through all that and opened a place of healing and hope.

Here is a man at rock bottom yet he recognizes Jesus for who He is. Dismas doesn’t ask for forgiveness but only to be remembered. Dismas may be the only person in Scripture other than Jesus Himself that we know made it to Heaven. Amidst all the great saints of the Gospels, Dismas is the only recipient of such a guarantee.

Have you ever been there? Broken and on the edge of despair? Perhaps you faced failure. Loss of a relationship. Loss of a job. Perhaps like me you were caught up in addiction, finding fake hope in the bottle or pill. Perhaps like Dismas you were able to find a way out that was based on genuine hope.

Unlike other Wise Guides, Dismas leaves us only with his words spoken at the time of his execution. He did not write a book. He left no letters. What we know about him is minimal.

In Fr. Ed Dowling’s journey, he struggled with doubt and the dark night of the soul. Fr. Kapaun suffered martyrdom in Korea. Yet both saintly men were drawn to this Good Thief as am I. Dismas is there with me as I struggle with doubts or other aspects of the dark night that are part of any journey of recovery from addiction. I welcome hi whenever he drops back into my life.

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Is Jesus Really Walking with Donald Trump?

Posted on May 29, 2026 by richp45198

Is Jesus Really Walking With Donald Trump?

Recently Donald Trump published a picture of himself with Jesus at his side and suggested that Jesus was on his side when it comes to all issues MAGA. The picture came in the midst of his fairly ugly attacks on Pope Leo. It also reflects the justification the Trump administration has placed on the war in Iran. During this time Trump urged Congress to vote for some bill he proposed by “doing it for Jesus.”

It is easy to dismiss such actions yet many will support him and many have already come out in agreement with him and in agreement with his attacks on Pope Leo. There is after all a powerful Right Wing within the Catholic Church. Finally there is the rise of Christian Nationalism, a conservative move to justify all sorts of actions taken by the Trump administration.

When I read of such things, I am tempted to simply shake my head and turn to the sports page. But as I looked at the picture and Trump’s related commentary, I perceived a challenge. What do I as a Catholic man actually believe about Jesus? To borrow from 12-Step language, who really is the Jesus of my understanding? Who and what does He really stand for? After all, how can I be critical of another man’s portrayal of Jesus if I don’t have a clear understanding myself.

The first thing I realized is that Trump’s picture was not wrong. I do in fact believe that Jesus is walking with him only not for the reasons Trump proposes.

For me the essence of Who Jesus is and the essence of his teaching is found in the Beatitudes. Here we see that He does indeed speak up for the poor. Here He challenges our lust for power. Here He clearly speaks for peace. Here He clearly encourages us to be kind. Here is where I find the Jesus of my understanding.

If I read His words elsewhere, I also find Him where He makes me uncomfortable. His words about wealth. His challenges regarding loving my enemy and realizing that my enemy is not only the politicians I despise but also the person who just cut me off in traffic. The words of the Jesus of my understanding should make me uncomfortable.

I find Him in His challenges of the status quo and the religion of His day. His anger in the temple pokes at me as I contemplate the business of the Catholic Church. I believe I know what He would have to say about the abuse crisis within my Church.

Yet the Jesus of my understanding teaches love and forgiveness. The Jesus of my understanding is a Healer. The Jesus of my understanding rose above His suffering to reassure a criminal hanging next to Him that he too would be in Paradise that day.

And so, yes, I do believe that Jesus is walking beside Donald Trump, offering not votes but love, forgiveness, and healing. Trump desperately needs what Jesus has to offer. So do we all.

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Edith Eger: A Good Friend

Posted on May 14, 2026 by richp45198

A good friend passed away recently, a friend I’d known for 50 years. Her name is Edith Eva Eger.

I first met Edie when I came to El Paso with the Army and worked as a psychologist. At that time, Edie was completing an internship at William Beaumont Army Medical Center where I also worked. I knew nothing about her other than that she was a civilian living in El Paso but originally from Hungary. In time, I came to know more of her story.

Edie was born in Hungary and had an early joy-filled life. She became a ballerina. That life, however, was shattered by the Nazi invasion and occupation of Hungary. Edie was Jewish. She ended up in Auschwitz where, among many horrors, she encountered Mengele, the notorious Nazi Doctor of Death.

Edie barely survived but eventually made her way to the United States with her husband Bela, whom I knew as Al. She ended up in El Paso studying at the University of Texas El Paso. At one point, another student noticed her number tattoo and suggested she read a book titled Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. The book opened a door for healing. Edie communicated with Dr. Frankl, who encouraged her to pursue studies in psychology.

When I first met Edie, she did not talk much about her past but eventually embraced her career as a psychologist and saw that her own history was a powerful resource for helping others, especially those with PTSD. Edie became a true Wounded Healer.

Eventually when she was almost 90 she wrote her story, a remarkable book titled The Choice in which she shared her journey. She called me the day the review came out in the New York Times to make sure I had seen it. When she came to El Paso for a book signing, she asked me to sit with her for moral support. Her book became a best seller, placing even more demands on her time and talents.

Edie played a major role in my staying in El Paso. When I was preparing to leave the Army, she asked me what my plans were and if I’d thought about private practice. She then offered her office and a few referrals as an opportunity for me to see if I liked private practice. Two years ago, I retired from my practice of some 43 years.

After Edie moved to La Jolla she stayed in touch with me. I shared with her my own various publications as well as this blog. Until her health deteriorated, she always provided me with honest feedback.

I never asked Edie about her experiences but she did on occasion share them. Once she asked to meet with a fellow psychologist and me to discuss her difficulty with the oral part of the licensing exam. She shared that, when she entered the room for the exam, she became immobilized by a flashback of standing before Mengele. Nonetheless, she faced down her anxiety and became licensed.

To me, Edie was not so much a celebrity whom I happened to know. She wasn’t even someone I knew who had a remarkable story. She was and will always be first a foremost my friend.

I encourage you to read the book The Choice as well as her second book The Gift. I’ve attached a link to her remarkable interview with Oprah Winfrey. And take a moment to be thankful for remarkable people who’ve enriched your journey.

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On Grief and Grieving

Posted on April 15, 2026 by richp45198

In my years as a psychotherapist, I would often be met with someone struggling with grieving. Most often people came to see me because either they were anxious they weren’t grieving “correctly” or that a loved one was concerned for them. Some came in because someone had told them “You need to talk about it.”

I also grew up in a family that lost two children. Grief that didn’t get talked about was a fairly constant presence.

The concern regarding “correct” grieving often relates to Dr. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ theory of five stages of grieving. Thus, a client might say “I haven’t been angry at my loved one” or “I don’t believe I’ve done any bargaining.” Dr. Kubler-Ross herself clarified that she never meant for the 5 stages to be a blueprint to grieving but rather as a guideline for common grief experiences.

Grief of course comes on the heels of death. It is the natural response to the loss of a loved one. Grief can also come from other types of losses – the ending of a relationship, the loss of a job, the disruption of a life goal.

Most of us feel sadness when contemplating the loss. Some may also have to deal with anger as part of grieving. This may be anger over the loss (“Why did God take him/her?”) or perhaps an unresolved hurt in need of forgiveness. The challenge of grieving is to figure out how we move forward. This would be what Kubler-Ross meant by acceptance. The event has happened. How do I get on with my life? Not an easy question.

The other trap of grieving is the belief that acceptance means I am finished grieving. I don’t belief grieving ever ends. There is no “I am done grieving.” The sense of sadness becomes a part of moving forward. It can come in unexpected ways. Perhaps the sadness is triggered by a piece of music. Grief can even be triggered by smells. I loved my Uncle Gaddy a great deal. He was my surrogate grandfather. He also smoked cigars. Once I was at an event and smelled a wisp of cigar smoke. Immediately my uncle was there in my memory.

Some people may even experience what can feel like an hallucination. One woman was concerned because se still heard the squeak of her front step which would signal her husband’s return from work. For some time after his death, she would still hear that squeak. I assured her this was normal, a part of her treasure trove of memories.

Given that there is no correct way to grieve, it does help to talk about the loss. What I miss about my loved one. Some of the Irish wakes of my youth would involve stories about the deceased. Thus, ironically some grief may include laughter.

Finally, it should be noted that grief and depression are not the same and that not everyone who grieves is depressed. Depression may come from a sense of being stuck, of being unsure how to move forward.

The one book I most often recommend is A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. Lewis was a staid midlife bachelor professor who suddenly and unexpectedly fell in love and married. His Joy-filled time ended tragically with his wife’s death some two years later. His book reflects his efforts to come to grips with his grief and the challenges it presented to his faith. The book doesn’t have a happy ending but with Lewis accepting that his grief will go on. As he says poetically “Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.”

Grief, then, can be viewed as the price we pay for loving. The only way I know to avoid grief is to not care.

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Baseball, the Dudley Dome and Community

Posted on March 16, 2026 by richp45198

Some year ago as I was watching the ninth chapter of Ken Burns’ documentary on baseball, they were discussing baseball in towns across America. At one point they showed a ballpark with a variety of colorful ads on the outfield walls. One was for Dick Poe Autos. “That’s the Dome!” I said. And indeed it was Dudley Field, home for many years to the El Paso Diablos, a AA minor league baseball team. The ballpark was lovingly referred to as The Dome.

When we first moved to El Paso courtesy of the United States Army, a friend at the clinic where I worked told me early on “You have to go see the Diablos play!” And so some time after that I had my introduction to Dudley Field.

For many of us, being at a ballpark brings back baseball memories. I would spend hours in my backyard bouncing a rubber ball either off of the garage door to field grounders or off of the second floor to chase fly balls. I would position my cap loosely on my head so that, as I chased a fly ball, my cap would fly off just like Willie Mays. One of the great disappointments early on was when I learned I was ineligible for the Green Ridge Little League because we lived one block over the boundary between Scranton and Dunmore. Nonetheless, I would participate in many a pick-up game at nearby Maloney Field, a large dirt field with a baseball backstop. We would gather together and go through the ritual of hands on a baseball bat to determine who would start choosing sides first.

I was an avid collector of Topps baseball cards. When I was about 10 or so I was able to get the autograph of Jimmy Pearsall of the Red Sox on my baseball card. This became a prized possession.

My Dad was not much of a baseball fan but would play catch with me. He in fact gave me my first glove — an Early Wynn model. I was delighted when Early Wynn was voted into the Hall of Fame. My Dad did take me to several baseball games, some in Philadelphia to see the hapless Phillies and a few in New York. One game in particular was memorable. I had wanted to see Jimmy Pearsall play but by 1961 he was playing for the Cleveland Indians and so my Dad took me to see them play the Yankees. This was in the midst of Roger Maris pursuing Babe Ruth’s home run record and indeed we saw Maris hit his 56th.

Somehow sitting in the bleachers on the first base side brought all that back to me. Beyond that, a ballgame at the Dome was more than a ballgame. As you entered, you took a tissue to be used to wave goodby to an opposing pitcher when he was knocked out of the game. And then there was the announcer Paul Strelzin.

The Strelz was a big part of the enjoyment of the game at the Dome. When the opposing team was having a rally, he would wave a red flag at them to stop the rally. The Green Weanie flag would hopefully lead to a Diablos rally. Beyond the right field wall was the El Paso Zoo and so, when a leftie came up, Strelz would encourage the batter to “wake up the elephants”, i.e., hit a homerun. Strelzin would come up with nicknames for the players. Thus, Tom Brunansky became “Brunooo” Brunansky. Daryl Sconiers was “Jaws” with the famous music playing whenever he came to bat. Paul Strelzin also has the distinction of being the only announcer to be ejected from a game!

One would also encounter dedicated Diablos fans. One man I remember was named Diner Davis. The name Diner, he explained, was because he once worked on a railroad dining care. Diner carried a pocket calculator with him and would recalculate each Diablo’s batting average after every at-bat.

On Fridays the Diablos sponsored ten cent beer night. (This was in the late 70s). Quite a buzz for a dollar.

I went to the Dome many times. We had my close friend’s bachelor party there. I shared the Dome with my children. They all remember Paul Strelzin, cotton candy, nachos, the sun setting behind the Franklin Mountains.

In time the Dome showed its age and the Diablos relocated to a ballpark on the edge of El Paso. It was Cohen Stadium, a large concrete facility that put some distance between fans and players. By then, Strelzin was gone and so was some of the ballgame’s unique character. Prices also went up and so interesting characters such as Diner Davis could no longer afford an evening of baseball. In 2005 the Dome was torn down.

The Diablos eventually gave way to the trend of minor league teams becoming big business. They were twice sold to big business groups and eventually lost their Major League affiliation, trying to make a go of it in independent baseall. Eventually the team was sold and moved with a different name.

In 2014 baseball returned to El paso with a new downtown stadium and a new team — the Chihuahuas, a AAA affiliate of the San Diego Padres. The ballpark is beautiful. The concessions are expensive. Baseball as big business is now a part of El Paso.

One of my heroes is Curt Flood. Curt played for the St. Louis Cardinals in the late 1960s. When he was traded to the Philadelphia Phillies, he refused to cooperate with the trade and challenged the reserve clause which empowered owners to completely control the destiny of the players. Flood lost his case in the Supreme Court but a few years later more challenges ended the reserve clause, allowing players to negotiate such matters as salary. The era of free agency began in the 1970s and changed baseball forever.

The cost of escalating salaries as well as changes to the economy moved baseball owners to embrace business models. The impact and value of baseball clubs to their communities became less important. The trend reached a peak with the contraction of minor league baseball a few years ago. Major League baseball eliminated multiple minor league teams as no longer necessary. For many of these communities, baseball was a community event that most could afford. The contraction of the minor leagues led to a significant loss. Other communities such as El Paso witnessed their beloved teams transformed into corporate businesses.

There are still moments when baseball brings communities together. I think of Mike Piazza’s homerun for the Mets after 9/11. I think of David Ortiz’s memorable speech to the crowd at Fenway Park after the Boston Marathon bombings. Sadly, that type of coming together would not have happened without the tragedies that were a focus.

Perhaps that is the loss I grieve when I think of the Dudley Dome — a loss of a sense of community that baseball was able to bring. Many of us have had that sense of community in other ways as well. Most of us still seek that sense whether through sports or religion or neighborhoods. I wonder if that access to community has become less and less. Why? Big business? Political divisiveness? Decreasing interest in religion? Fear in an increasingly violent world? Probably all of the above and more.

The other day I met a veteran who had played baseball for a local high school. We were roughly the same age so I asked him if he remembered Dudley Field. He smiled and said “I once played there on my high school team.” It was a moment of connection. A momentary sense of community.

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On War

Posted on March 5, 2026 by richp45198

As I write this, President Trump has initiated a war against Iran. There is opposition as there should be. Some of it is based on questions about his authority to start a war. There is also support.

When I was in college, at a family gathering I sat with my Great-aunt Margaret. She was in her early 90s at that time. At one point, she looked at me and asked “What do you think of this war, Richard?” She was referring to the Viet Nam War. I said “I think it’s a bad war, Aunt Margaret.” She nodded and said “So do I.” After a pause she added “So many young men…” Later I realized that the Viet Nam War was the fifth war my aunt had lived to see.

So many young men. And now so many young women as well.

When I was in college, I was trying to decide whether or not to file for status as a conscientious objector. I studied the Catholic Church’s position on war. I read Thomas Aquinas and the Just War theory. In a miscalculation, I concluded that I could not claim that status since I had been very violent in my youth, getting into many fights. I later came to see that awareness of this inner violence was the VERY REASON for me to declare myself non-violent. To this day, I know my potential for violence. As much as possible, I decry violence as an option for solving problems.

Like Pete Seeger, though, I also know that, if anyone were to attack my country or my family, as old as I am I would be on the front line.

And so I, as a Catholic man capable of violence, am faced with deciding my position on this current war.

As a psychotherapist, I have spent many hours sitting with combat veterans of all wars since and including World War II. I have born witness to the scars, physical and mental, caused by war. I have listened to many stories of lives changed forever by exposure to death in combat. I have spoken with men and women who lost their faith on the battlefield. I have spoken with men and women carrying a burden of guilt because they survived. I have sat with men and women who have tried to drink or drug or tattoo their pain away. Yes, many of these same veterans tried to face their pain and some did find healing. But they also know that war never really leaves their consciousness.

This for me is the reason to stand in opposition to this current action. War is too high a price to pay for some political or religious advantage. Others may argue about the evils of Islam or Communism or any other Ism. I can only argue in return that there has to be a better way. We must look at war from a human perspective, not from a political one.

Finally I must evaluate war as a Christian. Many Christians and Catholics embrace the Just War theory. Others point to Jesus saying “I come with a sword”. Yet the bottom line of Jesus’ message is that of peace and non-violence, summed up in His words “Love your enemy”, words that are perhaps His greatest challenge. Many so-called Christians may add to that with words like “except” or “unless”. Jesus didn’t add any exceptions.

I can’t change the political environment. I can’t change the minds of those supporting this war. The only contribution I can make is to continue to heal the violence within me, hoping and praying that in some small way that makes a difference. As the hymn says “Let there be peace on earth/And let it begin with me.” Amen to that!

As you reflect on your own views, I leave you with this timeless song that speaks to the realities of war.

“Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”- Kingston Trio

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