Charles Hourihan

My husband Charlie began playing football at 11 years old in the youth football league in Boston. He then went on to play running back and become co-captain of his high school football team at Catholic Memorial in West Roxbury, MA.

Charlie continued his education at the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester on a full football scholarship. He played defensive back there and was on special teams. He received a terrible concussion at one of the away games and was hospitalized for three days. I would like to think these days he would be told not to play anymore. Back then they had him come back and play. Charlie was very aware of the high cost of college. He was not going to give up his scholarship.

Charlie and I married in 1990 just as he turned 33 and I was 24. I thought everything about him was so special. His smile always made my heart melt.

We soon had two sons and he was such a wonderful father and husband. I couldn’t have wished for more. I was so grateful.

Charlie had moments over the following years that began to give me pause. Forgetting things not long after we had discussed them. Seeming to struggle a bit with work. Charlie had always excelled at work. Things were beginning to feel “off.”

It was at the end of 2014 Charlie had his first major panic attack (that I was aware of and witnessed). He told me everything was becoming hard, too complicated. He questioned his ability to work at the level he was used to. Charlie took so much pride in caring for his family. He was feeling devastated. My usually calm, loving husband was beside himself with anxiety and grief.

We began seeing a neurologist at Massachusetts General Hospital. A PET scan and several cognitive tests told us something was definitely wrong. He had mild cognitive impairment. The likelihood was that it would get worse with time.

Charlie was devastated by the news. We decided to try to manage it as well as possible and to focus on moving forward the best we could.

Charlie stayed and fought until February of 2021.

We spent the years in between seeing his neurologist regularly. Using antidepressants and Donepezil and other medicines and treatments that seemed to help a bit, each in their own way. Charlie took speech therapy and mindfulness classes. He did everything the professionals at Mass General suggested. He gave his best each day.

Charlie was always kind and loving. My sons and I were very fortunate that anger, paranoia, or violence were not part of our story. Amongst the medicine and treatments, we added many more wonderful memories; from traveling, to walks in the park, to simple meals together. We knew our time together was special. We knew the clock was ticking…

Charlie passed away on February 23, 2021. He was 63 years old. I miss him so much.

My son and daughter-in-law remembered we had all discussed donating Charlie’s brain to the Boston University CTE Center. They made the phone calls the day Charlie passed, and the organization responded with respect and immediacy. Charlie was found to have stage 4 CTE. He was also in stage 2 TDP-43 Encephalopathy (a dementia similar to Alzheimer’s Disease in presentation).

We are grateful to them and the Concussion Legacy Foundation for providing answers and support. We also appreciate that they continue their important work with purpose and determination to help others.

Jim Houston

Mr. Dependable

At lunchtime in Massillon, Ohio, a young Jim Houston would run home from school to snag food. Then he’d run back. In an age before sparkling weight rooms for football teams, Houston had to squeeze in exercise any way he could. The team needed him, of course.

Houston started playing football in the eighth grade. He tried out for the team the prior year, the first age kids could start playing in Massillon, but he was deemed too small. Two years later, Houston earned All-City honors as a tackle and defensive end for Massillon Washington High School. He led Massillon Washington to a state championship in 1953.

His exploits in high school garnered the attention of Woody Hayes, then coach for The Ohio State University. Houston’s older brother Lin had starred for the Buckeyes in the 1940’s. Hayes recruited Houston to play defensive end and convinced Houston to relocate 118 miles south along Interstate 71 to Columbus and play for the Buckeyes. There, Houston’s habitual winning continued.

Freshmen weren’t allowed to play varsity football when Houston arrived on campus. Still, coaches saw his potential and heavily involved him in film sessions and practices in preparation for a big role his sophomore season. In that 1957 season, Houston started on offense and defense including catching an interception and playing all 60 minutes in the Rose Bowl to help the Buckeyes win a National Championship.

Houston continued to play both ways his junior and senior seasons, before being selected in the first rounds of both the 1960 AFL and NFL Drafts. He again followed Lin by opting to play for the Cleveland Browns.

Houston played defensive end for his first three seasons with the Browns, but setting the edge wasn’t his only obligation. In 1962 and 1963, Houston served as an infantry unit commander for the U.S. Army spending his weekdays at Fort Dix, New Jersey. On the weekends, Houston flew to wherever the Browns were playing. His commitment to his country and his NFL team earned him the nickname “Mr. Dependable.”

The 1963 season brought change and success. The Browns hired Blanton Collier as head coach, who moved Houston from end to linebacker. The following season, Houston made the Pro Bowl and the Browns found themselves in the NFL Championship against the Baltimore Colts.

The Colts were favored heading into the game, but the Houston-led defense shut out the high-powered Colts offense in a 27-0 win. Houston covered Baltimore tight end John Mackey in single coverage and held the future Hall of Famer to one catch for two yards.

Houston made three more Pro Bowls in his career while moving to whichever linebacker spot the Browns needed him. He retired from the NFL in 1972 and was inducted into The Ohio State University Varsity “O” Hall of Fame in 1979, the College Football Hall of Fame in 2005, and the Browns Legends in 2006.

His career was not without pain, as Houston suffered several concussions. His most public came in a 1969 playoff game against the Minnesota Vikings, led by quarterback Joe Kapp. While trying to chase Kapp, Houston’s helmet hit Kapp’s knee pad and knocked him out. The Browns lost the game 27-7, and Houston was delirious for weeks afterwards. He had trouble driving and couldn’t go to work.

Houston’s concussion history predated his NFL days. During one of his many speeches for charity causes, he recounted being knocked out on the opening kickoff of the Ohio North-South all-star game, and then re-entering the game in the second half. “There was no holding me back after I regained consciousness,” Houston said. “By that time, it was in the second half.”

Life after football

Jim Houston’s post-football life was colored by charitable ventures, most often to give back to the youth of Ohio.

Houston’s dedication to the next generation started early. He frequented the Boys and Girls Club of Massillon as a kid and led fundraising efforts to give back to the clubs of Ohio. In 1964, a 15-year-old Akron boy who had just lost his father wrote to Houston for advice. Houston wrote back as he did with all fan mail. He penned, “When you come to the point where you can’t take one more step, take two.”

After he and his first wife divorced, Houston moved to Bainbridge, Ohio in the early 1990’s. He started attending the United Methodist Church in Chagrin Falls.

“He never said anything about being a former player or anything,” said Donna Houston. “Finally, someone in the congregation told me that he was the most eligible bachelor at the church and I should pay attention to him.”

Donna was a nurse in the area and noticed how Houston cared for his granddaughter. She would hear him say, “How ya doing, kid?” to the many churchgoers whose names he didn’t remember but whose presence he so appreciated.

They attended the same classes between first and second services and began to find common interests and beliefs. Donna and Jim started dating in 1997 and were married in 1998.

The Houston’s loved to travel, and they did it often. Aside from frequent trips to Columbus and Cleveland, they rented various timeshares. Their travels took them to southern mainstays like Myrtle Beach, Hilton Head, and Savannah. Donna and Jim fell in love with Savannah’s courtyards complete with fountains and vines. They installed their own Savannah-style courtyard in 2002, which became the site of many nights entertaining friends and peaceful mornings together.

Houston’s grandchildren adored him, and he adored them right back. Donna and Jim loved to babysit, and hosted the children for summers, and attended their sports games.

But around this time, Houston’s decision making began to alarm Donna. He made choices without any regard for consequences, especially financially. He gave telemarketers exactly what they wanted and spent money the Houstons didn’t have.

“It’s like you don’t have any common sense,” Donna would say to him.

“Just forget it”

Donna came to learn that Houston’s financial issues were set in motion years earlier. He declared bankruptcy before they got married.

His troubles began to extend beyond financial issues. By around 2006, his behavior was so bizarre Donna began to take notes. He once removed a lightbulb from a lamp and put it in a different lamp, then vehemently denied ever doing it.

“Just forget it,” Houston said to Donna in what became a phrase she heard far too often.

Donna always went to bed before Houston and would kiss him goodnight. Minutes later, Houston would ask Donna where his kiss was and assumed Donna was lying when she corrected him.

Houston could become angry and frustrated after these bouts of confusion, especially behind the wheel. He couldn’t believe there was a law that he had to slow down in a school zone. When driving became dangerous, Donna had to quit work to take care of Houston.

Donna received validation when one of Houston’s sons came to visit in 2006. After seeing his father struggle, he voiced his concerns to Donna.

“It was absolutely overwhelming,” said Donna. “I loved him so much. When he starts fading away from you, it felt like your heart was being ripped out. How could this be?”

Losing Jim

Donna and Jim knew there was a problem, and Donna began to connect the dots between Jim’s football career and his cognitive and physical decline. She clipped newspaper stories about the then-burgeoning link between NFL players and Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE).

Houston was primarily concerned his decline could be passed on to his children. In 2008, Houston jumped at the opportunity to have his brain studied for research. He began participating in the Boston University LEGEND study and participated in yearly questionnaires about his cognitive state.

Donna got plenty of advice to get help with Jim’s care. But her love for Jim, her nursing experience, and her desire to learn kept her going. She took a six-hour class from the Alzheimer’s Association about how to best take care of Jim. She made sure Jim got outside and stayed social. The two took daily trips to libraries and various metro parks in Cleveland.

Mobility also became an issue for Houston and therefore Donna. He was diagnosed with ALS in 2014 and visited the Cleveland Clinic’s ALS center. For Jim to go upstairs, she had to hold on to a gait belt to stabilize him to navigate the stairs.

One day, Jim and Donna tumbled down the stairs. Donna realized she was no longer able to care for Jim herself. She moved him in to a dementia living facility in June 2017.

Donna visited the facility every day to bathe and change Jim and spend time with him outside. Jim’s trademark spirit was still on display.

She still heard “How ya doing, kid?”

She noticed Jim, who had an enormous sweet tooth, give his cookie to a man who was worse off than he was.

She noticed his charm was still winning over other ladies at the facility, who overwhelmed him with attempts at kisses.

But she also noticed Jim’s affliction was different than his peers at the facility who were suffering from Alzheimer’s. While others couldn’t remember their own kin, Jim still knew who Donna and his kids were when they visited.

Named after Houston’s old Super Bowl foe John Mackey’s uniform number, the 88 Plan provided some respite for Donna and Jim. Mackey died in 2011 after a long battle with what was eventually diagnosed as CTE. His public struggle with the disease led to the 88 Plan to provide $88,000 a year for former players living with dementia. The 88 Plan paid for Jim’s care and for Donna to find community.

Twice a week, Donna went to support groups for dementia caregivers. She thanks those groups for helping her get through the idea that her husband was fading away.

On Tuesday, September 11, 2018, Jim Houston passed away at age 80.

Jim’s Legacy

After his death, Jim’s brain was sent to the UNITE Brain Bank in Boston. His spinal cord was supposed to also be studied for ALS research but complications from the coroner prevented it.

Dr. Russ Huber of the Brain Bank informed Donna of the test results. Houston was diagnosed with Stage 3 (of 4) CTE. All signs pointed to ALS as well, but researchers could not confirm the diagnosis without spinal cord tissue.

Donna wasn’t surprised but took comfort knowing Jim’s problems weren’t genetic. Going public with his findings is important to Donna to continue Jim’s legacy of giving back to kids.

“He loved kids. He was always encouraging them and talking to them about exercise and doing their homework,” Donna said. “He just wanted people to know there’s a problem.”

Donna says Jim’s message wouldn’t have been to avoid football entirely. He would have supported initiatives for safer play, such as our Flag Football Under 14 campaign, which asks parents to reduce their child’s risk for CTE by not enrolling them in tackle football until they’re at least 14.

For other caregivers, Donna says self-care is vital. Taking time for herself, even just to get laundry done, helped her feel normal during Jim’s decline.

“Get the help, go to support groups, and make sure someone goes with you,” Donna said. “You need to talk to somebody who knows what’s happening and know that you’re not the only one who is going through it.”

Jamaar Jarrett

 

Jamaar Jarrett was born on March 28, 1990, and he was special from day one. Not only was he the baby of the family, he was also the only boy. Jamaar’s adventurous personality meant he was a risk taker from a young age. When he was only two, Jamaar was making small ramps for his bicycle and riding off of curbs. By five, he was mountain biking – literally on mountains!

Growing up, Jamaar’s only dream was to play professional football and nothing else. I did not let him play until he was in seventh grade, when he begged to play Pop Warner football. Jamaar went through a growth spurt at this time and ended up only being able to play one season because he grew so big. He joined the high school football team in ninth grade, and after a few weeks, the coach wanted him to play varsity as a defensive end.

Jamaar was a football standout and was on the radar of football scouts almost immediately. As a senior, he was the No. 1 DE in San Diego County, the No. 2 DE in the Western region, and the No. 12 DE in the country. Jamaar was an incredible athlete, and standing at 6-foot-6, he couldn’t possibly go unnoticed. He received scholarship offers from schools in almost every state and eventually narrowed it down to two colleges: Arizona State and the University of Oregon. He ultimately chose Arizona State so he could stay closer to his family. This was a great choice for us, and we made sure to go to as many games as possible.

It was around the end of Jamaar’s junior year of college that we noticed changes in his behavior. His mood would swing from happy-go-lucky, social, and fun to a more reclusive, depressed state. I attributed it to general stress from life and not knowing what he was going to do after football at ASU. Jamaar didn’t have a backup plan — it was all about football. I later learned he was in a lot of pain from the years of getting hit and was taking pills to manage the pain.

Once Jamaar graduated, he returned home but was never the same. He had episodes of severe depression and moodiness, lying in bed for days at a time. He started drinking to get through these periods and then, all of a sudden, he would stop and be himself again for a few months. He would often say “something was wrong” with his brain. Even through this, Jamaar managed to obtain his insurance license and was doing great professionally. He was an amazing salesman! He had a beautiful apartment by the beach, his dog, and a great job working with people he really liked, but it didn’t stop the episodes. In fact, they continued to get worse, lasting longer, and he consumed larger amounts of alcohol every time. He even began having seizures. Jamaar was not an alcoholic. This was simply his way to cover up the pain and suffering.

At one point, Jamaar had a double grand mal seizure and ended up with staples from hitting his head on the concrete. He told paramedics he had CTE from playing football and that there were occasions where his hands had a life of their own and he couldn’t control their movement. Two days after this event, he attempted to take the staples out with pliers. His behavior became more self-abusive and was scary to witness.

During Jamaar’s last days, he continued to fight, but he knew it was time. Some of his last words were, “I am leaving here. I am going to Hawaii. It is going to be so beautiful and so peaceful.” He also said, “Just be happy. Love yourself.” These words will forever be remembered. Jamaar was an absolutely beautiful person.

If love could have saved him, he would have lived forever.

 

Tom Johnson

On the morning of February 8, 2015, I received the call from Tom’s wife. She told me Tom was gone. At first, I thought she meant he had left. I guess in a way he did. He left in the middle of the night and escaped the demons that haunted him during the latter years of his life.

Tom was the youngest of my three boys. He grew up in Brockton, Massachusetts, which is known as the “City of Champions” because boxing legends Rocky Marciano and Marvin Hagler grew up there. Tom’s father left our family without notice when Tom was only three years old. Despite growing up in a single parent home, there was no shortage of love from myself and his two protective older brothers, John and Dave. Tom and his brothers were gifted athletes at an early age and played baseball, football, basketball and several other sports. As a single mom working multiple jobs, I was thankful for athletics to keep them busy and largely out of mischief. I could never have envisioned Tom’s gift for all sports, particularly football, would contribute to such a marked demise in his quality of life and a premature death. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare, and I will always struggle with this guilt.

In addition to being a gifted athlete, Tom was an outstanding high school student, a member of the National Honor Society, and a very well-liked person. The combination of his athletic and scholastic talents made him stand out to his friends, teachers, teammates, and to his renowned high school football coach, Armond Colombo. Tom had strong beliefs about right and wrong, and he developed many lifelong friendships growing up in Brockton. Tom was an unconditional friend and his friends’ battles were Tom’s as well. His confidence and lack of pretense enabled him to converse with a homeless person just as easily as he could with President George H. W. Bush, who he met while attending the President’s Cup golf tournament.

Tom played on the varsity football team as a freshman and was a star player each of his four years. This was a significant achievement considering the rich football history at Brockton High. The team went on to win three Massachusetts High School Super Bowl’s during the four years he played, losing only one time in his four seasons. Tom was co-captain and team MVP his senior year and named to the Enterprise All-Scholastic honors and selected to the Shriners All-Star team. Posthumously, Tom was inducted into the Brockton High School Hall of Fame in 2015.

Tom occasionally played fullback, but his primary position was middle linebacker. Tom loved battles, and at this position, he could outsmart, anticipate and use his speed and strength to tackle opposing ballcarriers. “It’s a gridiron war,” he and his teammates would often say. His teammates gave Tom the nickname “Captain Crunch” because he played with such reckless abandon to ensure his helmet connected with the ball carrier. Back then, Brockton players often compared helmets to measure who had collected the most dents and scratches throughout the season. The more damaged the helmet, the better. Tom’s helmet was frequently the most damaged.

During his high school football career, Tom suffered many “bell-ringers,” as they were called then. These were frequent, and not taken seriously by Tom, his teammates, or any of us. During one game against a team from New York, Tom suffered an especially serious concussion and was taken by ambulance to the hospital. Despite being diagnosed with a concussion on Saturday, he was back at football practice on Monday. During Tom’s high school years, 1985-1988, concussions weren’t newsworthy or ever a deterrent to sports.

Tom was offered several scholarships from various colleges and universities. He decided to attend Colgate University in Hamilton, New York. He played less in college than in high school, primarily due to a poor relationship with his coaching staff. In a game against Army his junior season, he suffered another serious concussion. He was not examined and diagnosed until several days after the impact and was sidelined for the next game. Soon after, people close to him noticed escalations in certain behaviors and we became concerned with his mental health.

Tom was always excitable and prone to fights, but after that concussion he became more erratic and he frequently escalated minor conflicts. He began drinking more often and acting out in ways that occasionally resulted in property damage and fights. At one point during his senior year, he was asked to take a leave of absence from school after an unprovoked altercation. Previous attempts by a girlfriend to get him to engage in therapy at school counseling sessions were short-lived. When Tom came home to be with his family for that year off from college, he told us about a traumatic incident that occurred during his childhood. After that admission, he willingly participated in therapy sessions and seemed to be on a great track as he returned to Colgate to complete his senior year and graduate in 1993.

After college, Tom moved to New York City and became an assistant specialist on the American Stock Exchange with the prominent firm Spear, Leads & Kellogg. He was considered such a prodigy at auction market trading that he was assigned to support one of the ASE’s busiest and most high-volume stocks: Motorola. After several years in New York, he realized how much he missed his family and friends and decided to move back to Massachusetts where he found work with Citigroup in their analyst program.

It was after a trip to Ground Zero to volunteer after the events of September 11, 2001 that Tom surprised everyone with his decision to enlist in the Marines. No one could have stopped him; he was incredibly determined to serve his country. In 2002, Tom departed for boot camp at Parris Island, NC before being deployed to Iraq. He served honorably on special operation tours and was awarded several commendations, including a Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, and a Medal of Good Conduct.

Tom was discharged in 2006. Despite his commendations and awards, Tom was severely affected when he came back home. His behavior was erratic and irrational, his drinking was excessive, and his tendency to resort to violence escalated. He no longer resembled the incredibly loving son, brother, uncle, and friend we all knew. We were all concerned for him.

His condition grew worse with each passing year. In 2007, Tom attempted to take his own life. He was taken to a local hospital and then transferred to the Brockton VA Hospital for observation and treatment. He remained there for two weeks. He worked hard to convince his treating psychologist that he would be OK with outpatient therapy and he agreed to go to AA meetings. He seemed to be getting the help he needed and returned to spending time with friends and family. For these reasons, we saw the attempt to end his life as an aberration and not something we would ever revisit again.

Soon after, Tom received a job offer to work at the Naval Academy Prep School (NAPS) in Newport, RI. For a few years at NAPS, he was at his happiest professionally and seemed to be on the most positive trajectory. He worked as a system engineer and volunteered as an assistant football coach, mentoring kids who he truly loved. He also obtained a Master’s in Science Communication from Stayers University in Virginia. All seemed to be going great for Tom and I had never seen him happier.

The changes began to creep into our lives so slowly it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when they began. Perhaps the first blow can be tied to when the chain of command at NAPS changed and Tom was informed his position and coaching role would be eliminated, along with his assistants. He was living away from home, so I did not see him enough to notice any day-to-day issues. Following an altercation at his brother’s home, he admitted himself to a drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility on Cape Cod. He maintained a position with NAPS, but they were now aware of his struggles and were initially very supportive to his illness.

Next, Tom bought a home in Middleboro and invited his fiancée and her son to live with him. They married shortly afterwards. Over the next two years he and his wife participated in AA programs, but would continuously relapse, rehab, and relapse again. He lost his job and his home life was volatile and unstable. For a while, Tom was very open to receiving help. Around this time though, he became more rigid in what treatments he would participate in. He did try a long-term rehab program at the VA where he was diagnosed with PTSD. Doctors also considered a bipolar diagnosis and he was given medication. At that time, no one knew the true cause of his suffering.

A physical altercation then led to jailtime for Tom. After he was released, he seemed to lose all enthusiasm for life and his fighting spirit. An athlete who loved engaging in physical activities no longer cared about exercise or maintaining a healthy lifestyle, allowing his overall health to deteriorate. Most notably, he cut off communication with lifelong friends and family, essentially anyone who was trying to help him help himself. His lifetime of sociability and gregariousness contrasted with his devolution into reclusive behavior. His close relationships with his two older brothers whom he idolized became contentious, fraught with tense accusations, and even violent.

In December 2014, Tom called me crying to say he believed he was dying. We had the Middleboro police go to his home and escort him to the Bedford VA hospital. Tom called me after arriving to thank me for saving him, but he asked that I not visit since he had a lot of thinking to do. Sometimes that conversation haunts me. I questioned whether I should have overruled his request and gone to visit him. I was entirely unaware that he left the hospital and the program he was enrolled in until I received the call that he had died. Though I told him countless times during his difficult years, I never got the chance to tell him then how proud I was to be his Mom. I never got to remind him how I still loved him to the moon and back and always would.

During the final years of Tom’s life, he did his very best to tackle the mental pain and anguish he suffered like he had when he was a football player. He would often complain of excruciating headaches and say how he couldn’t rein in painful, rambling thoughts. We attributed the symptoms to Tom’s tendency to overthink or to his alcohol abuse. Even when he didn’t appear to be trying, Tom was fighting an internal battle with his entire being, a battle within that was unwinnable – mentally and physically. There were times when we thought he was getting better, but it wouldn’t last. None of the numerous hospitalizations or stays in rehab facilities to recover his life could bring Tom back to a place of calm or equilibrium. His life became what he described as an unrecognizable, living hell.

A few times when I went to his side and held him, he would ask me to please pray with him and his prayer was always the same, “Mom, please ask God to bring me home. I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

At the time Tom passed away, our family knew very little about CTE until his brother-in-law, Kevin Haley, notified us about the Concussion Legacy Foundation. He suggested we donate Tom’s brain to be studied for Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, or CTE. We decided to donate his brain, and about a year later, researchers at the UNITE Brain Bank diagnosed Tom with CTE.

I will always be extremely grateful to Kevin for providing this information and helping us complete the brain donation process. Learning about CTE has changed our lives and aided us in our grieving process. Gaining an understanding of what was happening within my son’s brain helped us understand those years where we could not comprehend his changes. We just wish we had known sooner, before it was too late to make a difference for Tom. The most important thing now is to continue the work and to expand the awareness for other families experiencing what we did and provide them with hope, and measures they can take for someone they love.

I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to Lisa McHale and Dr. Ann McKee and the entire research team for their painstaking diagnosis and patient explanation of the pathological findings. For me, my family and everyone else who loved Tom, the CTE diagnosis helped explain the devastating effects on Tom’s life and greatly assisted us in healing from his death.

Tom is missed every single day, but no longer are our memories fixated on the events of those traumatic final years because we’ve been blessed with an ability to understand what caused them. We now remember Tom as he was before he began to experience the symptoms of CTE. The son, brother, uncle, friend, and person he was is the memory that will forever live in our hearts.

If you or someone you know is struggling with probable CTE, or lingering concussion symptoms, ask for help through the CLF HelpLine. We support patients and families by providing personalized help to those struggling with the effects of brain injury. Submit your request today and a dedicated member of the Concussion Legacy Foundation team will be happy to assist you.