Speak, memory

Evelyn Bence has a moving meditation on watching her friend (and my former teacher) John Breslin, slip into Alzheimer’s. The Jesuit was a man of letters, he taught Irish literature, (you can read his brief essay on John McGahern here), which is to say that he led a troop of sleepy teens haltingly through Joyce, […]

Evelyn Bence has a moving meditation on watching her friend (and my former teacher) John Breslin, slip into Alzheimer’s.

The Jesuit was a man of letters, he taught Irish literature, (you can read his brief essay on John McGahern here), which is to say that he led a troop of sleepy teens haltingly through Joyce, and Flann O’Brien and Seamus Heaney.

Bence has this to say: In December I traveled to see him. On an afternoon walk around campus, we slipped into the chapel. From a back pew, I pointed out the large Stations of the Cross-fully illustrated scenes carved as wall paneling; the Stations complement towering stained-glass portrayals of the Evangelists. As we rested, I tried to draw John out. “Remember that Ignatian prayer, from the Exercises, ‘Take, Lord, receive…my memory’? Ever think about it?”


“I don’t know what he’d ever do with my memory,” said John, puzzled.

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