John Stephen McGuire

I’ll never know the level of pain and suffering our dad endured in his life, but receiving a possible explanation for his tragic story has softened the raw edges of our family’s complicated journey.

Growing up, I heard stories about this mythical version of our dad. The one who was a small-town football hero, a rising star at West Point, a brilliant attorney with multiple degrees, and a beloved leader in all the spaces he occupied. My older sister remembers the fun-loving and attentive father who had started to fade away by the time me and my younger siblings arrived. He was at the start of losing everything.

He was likely in the throes of a CTE nightmare he couldn’t identify and no one around him understood.

We blamed alcoholism for his behavior. The contents of basement-stored alcohol would simply vanish. He’d spend hours tucked away around the house in places we all knew never to visit. He’d have bursts of rage, drunken verbal altercations when attending our sporting events, and DUIs for which he eventually served jail time. Just when we thought he might be able to move away from his behaviors, he would find a way to slip further away from us.

Our parents ultimately separated and then divorced. For a while, our dad managed in a different marriage. That too fell apart, as did his professional life and ability to care for himself.

Three separate times the courts ordered guardianship be put in place. The first time, his younger brother agreed to that responsibility and worked to get him admitted to a veteran hospital. Dad got sober, received regular meals, and improved in many ways. He became competent enough to employ his skills as an attorney to sue his brother and have the guardianship revoked.

A little over a year after winning his freedom in court, he went down another spiral. He went missing several times, required nine ambulance rides in the span of nine months, leading social services to once again request the help of a guardian. This time, it was a cooperative effort between three of his younger brothers and me. Once again, he wasted no time putting the wheels of justice in motion. He sued the four of us, and the court agreed with my dad’s assertion that he had a right to his own life. That guardianship was also dissolved.

He was putting up an impressive fight against his family — and sometimes his addiction — but we know now he was battling much more than that.

My dad’s executive function continued to weaken, and he spent nearly a decade in and out of care facilities, homeless shelters, rundown apartments, and sketchy motels. His siblings and my brother continued to help in any way they could. They collected him from the hospitals, checked up on him regularly, bailed him out of police detox, and kept him alive a lot longer than he might have all on his own.

For a while, a state-appointed guardian assigned him to care facilities, where he would manage to get kicked out. My dad ignored facility rules and acquired prohibited alcohol regularly. The battle continued.

A fall he took in 2014 left him with a broken neck and an assignment to a care facility for rehabilitation. He eventually healed, but was never able to live on his own again. He lived the last eight years of his life in the care of wonderful nurses and staff. By the time he died, he had suffered a couple strokes, and his dementia was quite advanced.

It was during his “quiet” years as a nursing home resident that I attended a concussion symposium and learned about the various behaviors present in people suffering with suspected CTE. I began to wonder whether any of our dad’s story could be tied to his time playing football, sparring and boxing with his brothers and West Point classmates, or playing catcher on his baseball team. My suspicions only grew as I learned more about the disease.

Our dad was a small “running quarterback” for his high school and college teams. In several articles about his team, he is pictured carrying the ball and leading with his head. He likely ran into many bigger bodies each time he was the ball carrier, which was often. He played for nine years, including three at West Point. He was an active oldest brother of five boys from a farming community in Nebraska, and there are plenty of family stories about McGuire sparring matches. Well before concussions and head injuries were a concern, our dad was likely rattling his brain with regularity.

The results confirm what we suspected. The pathology identified that by the time he passed away at age 79, our dad had stage 3 (of 4) CTE. Dr. Thor Stein of the BU CTE Center wrote in his conclusion, “Overall, it is likely a combination of CTE, neuropathological changes of AD (Alzheimer’s Disease), and vascular disease that contributed to his cognitive decline and dementia. His long-standing alcohol use likely also contributed to cognitive and behavioral symptoms.”

Our dad was a gifted and brilliant man. His brain provided opportunities for him at the start of his promising life. He used that brain to battle many challenges along the way, not knowing his own neurological ailments were the reason he felt the need to fight in the first place. It seems appropriate his brain is now part of the ongoing research to combat the destructive and debilitating effects of CTE. It’s the sort of impactful Legacy his story deserves.

Our Dad’s Obituary

John Stephen (Steve) McGuire, 79, raised in Fremont, Nebraska, died on October 20th, 2022, at Cherrelyn Healthcare Center in Littleton, Colorado. He had been a resident of the facility for eight years.

Steve was born on June 16th, 1943 in Salt Lake City, Utah where his father was stationed before his deployment to Okinawa during WWII. Steve was the oldest of five boys born in the span of six years and the first of what would eventually become 89 first cousins for the large farming family of McGuires from Wisner, Nebraska.

A successful high school athlete, Steve earned Hall of Fame recognition from St. Patrick’s/Archbishop Bergan High School for his successes competing in football, basketball, baseball, and track.

He attended Creighton University for one year before accepting his appointment to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. He graduated in 1966 and, upon graduation, was commissioned in the Signal Corp (Communications). He was assigned to the 1st Signal Brigade in Vietnam, where he was awarded the Bronze Star Medal for meritorious service in combat and the Army Commendation medal for exceptional performance. He was a Captain when he resigned in 1970.

Post-military service, Steve attended the University of Colorado at Boulder, where he earned a law degree and an MBA. He practiced as a patent attorney in the Denver law firm of Roath and Brega for several years.

By his late forties, Steve struggled personally and with health issues that significantly impacted the rest of his life.

After admittance to Cherrelyn Health Center in 2014, he enjoyed lucid and positive moments before dementia became his last battleground. Despite all the challenges endured by those who cared for him, Steve was a well-loved man who took up a lot of space in the hearts of those he touched. He was blessed with an incredibly caring staff at Cherrelyn who journeyed with him in his final years, as well as a large family who loved him his entire life.

Michael McGuirk

Michael George McGuirk was born on July 19, 1948, to Myrtle and George McGuirk of Arlington, Virginia. He attended St. Thomas Moore Elementary and played on the Arlington County Black Nights football team through his grade school years. He then went to O’Connell Catholic High School where he became a star football player and captain of the team. In his senior year, he transferred to and played football for Flynt Hill Preparatory School where he graduated in 1966. Mike then received a football scholarship to play for East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina, and received his business degree in 1970. Mike was on the 1970 ECU team that played Marshall University, in which ECU won the game. But Mike’s exhilaration of victory was short-lived. The flight returning the Marshall players and coaches to Huntington, West Virginia crashed with all 75 souls onboard. This event at such a young age cemented Mike’s instincts to make a positive contribution to the community while you can.

Throughout his college career, Mike spent his summers in Ocean City, Maryland. He started as a lifeguard on 7th Street Beach and finished his beach patrol career five years later as a crew chief. Skiing was another passion of Mike’s. After graduating from college, he spent his winters with some of his Ocean City friends working at New England ski resorts.

In 1974, Mike married his sweetheart Victoria, a Phillips Crab House girl. They moved to Port Orange, Florida to open and manage a Pappy’s restaurant with another Ocean City friend. Not satisfied with his career, Mike took postgraduate courses in computer science and applied for a job with Computer Science Corporation at the Kennedy Space Center in 1981. Over the course of a 31-year career, he rose to be a manager for Firing Rooms 1 and 2 of the Space Shuttle Program. He liked to joke that on launch day, he was the one to “light the fuse” and run. He also worked for Grumman and United Space Alliance before retiring in 2012. For several years after he retired, Mike coached football at Spruce Creek High School and then Father Lopez Catholic High School.

In 1977 and 1980 respectively, Mike and Victoria’s daughter Kristine and son Matthew were born. During this period, the couple became very involved in the community. They were co-founders of the Port Orange Pop Warner football league. Mike was a coach and Football Commissioner for years and watched the Pop Warner Program grow and flourish. Mike and Victoria’s biggest joy in their later years was Kristine’s marriage to Jon Reed in 2010 and then the birth of their granddaughter, Mia Mattison in 2012 and grandson, Clyde Michael in 2014!

Throughout his life, Mike was always a positive force in his community. Whether in football or Beach Patrol, he stayed in contact and participated in reunions and events. He always took the initiative to keep his Ocean City friends and East Carolina friends close. He found a legendary lifeguard from the ’50s, living in Titusville – Lucky Jordan, and brought him back to Ocean City for reunions. Mike also belonged to the Port Orange Ship Modelers Club for years.

Mike and Victoria also dealt with personal tragedy. Their son Matt struggled with addiction after being sexually abused as a young boy by his teacher. He testified in 1989 to put his predator in prison for 150 years. Sadly, Matt passed away from an accidental drug overdose in 2011. Mike and Victoria overcame their grief by starting the Straight Up SolGier Foundation to help others in situations like Matt’s. Straight Up SolGier Foundation has helped hundreds of local kids and adults get FREE counseling. Recently, Mike and Victoria handed the reins over to a new board of directors who will continue the amazing work the McGuirk family started.

Along with the posthumous contribution to the community through the SolGier foundation, Mike is still contributing to the football community as well. His brain was studied at the UNITE Brain Bank where researchers diagnosed him with stage 4 (of 4) CTE. Although Mike loved football, it probably contributed to his mental decline about a decade ago. He is survived by his wife, Victoria, daughter Kristine Reed, her husband Jon Reed, and their children Mia and Clyde Reed.

Tom McHale

 

Beloved husband, father, son, and brother 

When he died in May, 2008, at the age of 45, Tom McHale became the second former NFL player diagnosed with CTE by the research team at the CSTE at Boston University School of Medicine. Tom was my husband, the father of my children, brother to four siblings, and my very best friend. I hope that sharing Tom’s story will bring attention to the very misunderstood and unappreciated danger of concussions. I hope to help others understand just how devastating the long-term impact of repetitive sports-related head trauma can potentially be. I would hope that the awareness of these consequences will lead to a profound cultural change in how we perceive and respond to sports-related, and other, head trauma.

Tom and I met in August, 1986, as I was entering my sophomore year at Cornell University. I was just 19 years old; he was 23. I was a manager in charge of the defensive line for the Cornell Big Red and Tom was a defensive lineman.

Tom was kind of “larger than life” on the Cornell team. He had given up a full scholarship and a starting position on the defensive line at the University of Maryland to transfer to the Ivy League university to attend Cornell’s top-rated School of Hotel Administration. He’s been described by many to have been in a class all his own, breaking school records and earning All-American honors. When his years of eligibility were up at Cornell, Tom went on to play nine years in the NFL with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, the Philadelphia Eagles, and the Miami Dolphins.

Tom loved football; but it, by no means, defined him. It was his character that made Tom stand out. I never saw in him even the hint of a suggestion that he thought himself better than another. He filled a room with his presence and always drew a crowd around him. Yet he left so many who met him with the feeling that they had been the most important person in the room and that Tom had been riveted by whatever they had to say.

It always seemed that Tom had goals for his life, and he expected to succeed. He had a great deal of confidence in his abilities and he was proud of his accomplishments; but he never allowed success to go to his head. He always maintained that the ability to play football at its highest level is a God-given gift and he was grateful for the opportunity.

He was passionate about life. He had a beautiful smile and he smiled often. He loved music. He was fascinated by world history. He was enamored by, and gifted in the art, of cooking. But most of all, he was passionate about his faith, unswerving in his desire to do what is right, extremely devoted to his family, and incredibly loyal to his friends.

Tom and I were married on February 3, 1990. We were married for eighteen years and I truly believe that Tom brought me more happiness during those eighteen years than most people will experience in a lifetime.

We had three sons over the years. TJ was born in 1994, Michael in 1998; and Matthew followed in 1999. Tom was devoted to his boys and they adored their father, their coach, their hero.

The fairy tale ended on May 25, 2008 when Tom died from an accidental overdose. It’s still hard to believe it could have ended so tragically. And I still cannot revisit the memory of that day without experiencing physical pain. But truly, looking back, I realize that Tom had been slipping away from us for some time. It just became official and final on May 25th.

There is no way to adequately describe the change in Tom over the years except to say that it was so gradual that I’m not sure when I actually became aware of it. I just know that there came a day several years before he died that I could no longer deny that there was something terribly wrong with my husband. The man that I so admired had become like a shell of his former self, almost as if the spark was slowly being extinguished. And the man that remained made me feel at times that I was living with a stranger.

It wasn’t as though this stranger was a bad guy. He wasn’t. He just wasn’t my Tom. The man who once loved to get up and watch the sun rise had trouble getting out of bed at all. The eternal optimist who approached goals with great confidence had difficulty following through on his intentions.

The man who relished his friends and his family picked up the phone less and less frequently. The man who used to plan lunch while eating breakfast and plan dinner while eating lunch even began, more often than not, leaving the cooking to me.

What appeared to be symptoms of depression may have first come to my attention when Tom complained one night that the pain that he lived with as a result of so many years of pro ball had become too great to be on his feet all day.

He said that owning and operating restaurants, that which he had dreamed of since he had been a boy, was no longer enjoyable. He got out of the business. But that didn’t help. Eventually, he got help for his depression and we hoped that that would be the answer. It wasn’t.

Then one day, Tom confided that he was physically dependent on doctor prescribed pain meds. And so began a terrifying and difficult battle against opiate addiction. And as crazy as it may sound, I was relieved because I now had an explanation for what had happened to my husband and that brought me hope that I would one day have him back.

I believe that Tom fought with everything he had left in him to win that battle. But even in the absence of the drugs, I didn’t see my old Tom return. Though there were glimpses, they didn’t last. And I became increasingly concerned that there was something else going on and more and more afraid that I would never have back the incredible man I married.

When Tom died, I had never heard of CTE, nor did I have the slightest suspicion that the changes I had been seeing in my husband had anything to do with his lifetime of participating in contact sports. And yet when I learned of his diagnosis and saw images of his brain, when I heard Dr. McKee’s explanation of the pathological findings…that Tom’s brain exhibited significant pathology in areas that control inhibitions, impulsivity, insight, judgment, memory, and emotional lability,…my heart ached. But, for the first time in a long time, I felt I was beginning to understand.

I often wonder what Tom would have thought if he had heard of CTE. I wonder whether it would have made a difference for him to know that his inability to live up to the expectations he set for himself might actually have had a neurological cause.

I know that for me, for our boys, and for the many loved ones he left behind, knowing had made a tremendous difference. I have no doubt that I would have agonized over the years, wondering whether it was possible that CTE had been a factor in my husband’s struggles and ultimately in his death.

I’m extremely grateful for the insight that his diagnosis provides. I’m even more grateful to the researchers at the CSTE for their dedication and determination to discover how to diagnose, treat, and prevent this devastating disease so that future athletes need not experience the kind of turmoil that Tom experienced and that their families need not endure the agony of watching helplessly from the sideline.

I know that everyone who had the pleasure of knowing Tom during his lifetime would agree what a tremendous loss was brought about by his death. It is my fervent hope and prayer that all who knew and loved Tom will help me keep the memory of him alive for our boys so that they will remember him as he had been and will grow up to proudly be just like their dad.

Click here to read the New York Times article.

Click here to watch a video about Tom McHale.

 

 

Eugene Merlino

 

Gene and Kelly Merlino first met in New York City. Gene was charming, generous, good-looking, ambitious, and humorous, all of which initially attracted Kelly to him. The rest, as they say, was history.

As they grew closer, Kelly learned more about Gene’s beginnings: he was full of life and loved all kinds of sports and being active. On land, he could be found playing football, wrestling, skiing, or riding his dirt bikes and motorcycles. In the water, he enjoyed boating, scuba diving, and water skiing. But his first love was always football. He loved the comradery, being part of a team, and the values it instilled in him. He played the sport starting in third grade, throughout high school, and earned a spot on the Army football team at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point.

The Merlinos dated for a few years before getting married in 1998. They settled down in Mendham, NJ and had three sons: Max, Louis, and Ryder. To Gene, nothing was more important than family. Kelly and the boys were his entire world. They spent the summers up at their lake house in the Adirondacks. They always loved having a house full of family and friends. Gene loved entertaining on their boat and teaching kids to water ski and go tubing. Though everything seemed wonderful in the beginning, Kelly sometimes saw flashes of a different Gene.

Gene had been only a few years removed from football by the time the couple met but was already feeling the aftereffects of the numerous concussions he suffered while on the field.

First were the constant migraines. There was frequent times Gene could barely tolerate any light or sound, so at times he had to stay by himself in a basement, in complete darkness, to find relief. Then there were the nosebleeds; Kelly remembers certain moments when he was profusely just gushing blood everywhere.

Still, on the good days, Gene was an amazing husband, father, and friend. He took great pride in providing a stable life for his wife and kids. He coached Max’s football team and made it a priority to attend his children’s games. He loved being a mentor for the players he coached and teaching them about the philosophy of a team sport, which he fully believed could be applied to many aspects of daily life. But eventually, the number of good days started to disappear. Gene experienced periods of brain fog where he could not think straight, organize his thoughts, or recall memories, even if they had occurred recently.

Kelly kept a journal to help herself cope with the changes in Gene. The journals in turn helped to track Gene’s symptoms and the changes in his personality. She didn’t realize until reflecting on the entries how severe the personality and behavioral changes were and how quickly they were happening. Looking back on her entries now, she says her days mostly revolved around trying to help her husband and keep her family safe while her life became entirely consumed by chaos.

“It was terrifying and difficult to process for the entire family,” said Kelly. “We struggled with the question, ‘How does someone you love change before your eyes with no explanation?’”

As Gene entered his 40s, his personality shifted drastically. Each new day brought a waiting game to see how he would act. The majority of the time, Gene’s mood dominated the energy in the home which inevitably trickled down to Kelly and the children. He was unpredictable and could be fine one moment, but moody or frightening the next. Impulsiveness and rage were part of the new normal. The once social Gene became withdrawn, self-destructive, paranoid, overly negative, and not present. He struggled to follow conversations and would get easily frustrated. Work became more and more difficult due to the deteriorating of his executive functioning skills. He struggled with organizing, following directions, and would lose large gaps of time. Sleep became elusive and he’d stay up all night with his mind racing. He could snap at anyone on a whim, from family to strangers.

“Towards the end of his life it was like he was a shell of the man he used to be,” said Kelly. “He would constantly tell us that he was a burden to us all and we would be better off without him.”

In 2013, Gene was featured on a GQ docuseries called Casualties of the Gridiron, which looked at the impact of concussions on football players. Cameras documented his difficulties, Kelly’s experience as a caregiver, and their journey finding help and answers for Gene.

“I have this, I call it sponge head or fog head. It just doesn’t go away,” described Gene of his struggles in one clip. “I wake up every morning and I open my eyes and there it is again. It starts to become so overwhelming.”

Gene continued to battle symptoms in his early-mid 40s before passing away on July 9, 2021 at the age of 55.

Back in 2012, Gene had gone by himself to Boston without telling anyone, wanting to donate his brain to research. He knew he had all the symptoms of CTE and suspected he might have the disease. When Gene returned home, he gave Kelly the official paperwork and let her know he wanted to donate his brain when he passed. After his passing, she fulfilled his wish and his brain was studied at the UNITE Brain Bank, where researchers diagnosed Gene with stage 2 (of 4) CTE.

Upon hearing the results, Kelly, her sons, and family felt relief knowing their suspicions were confirmed. They now had an explanation for why he morphed into a completely different person.

Kelly is sharing her husband’s story to help raise awareness around CTE. For too long, Kelly and her sons felt as if they needed to keep Gene’s behavioral changes a secret which needed to be kept to protect Gene. There was very little help for Gene, for her, or their children. She wants other families to know they are not alone. There are resources available, such as the CLF HelpLine, which can provide personalized support and guidance to anyone struggling from a brain injury.

Her biggest piece of advice to other families and caregivers?

“When they tell you what they’re feeling and experiencing, please believe them, and support them as best as you are able to,” said Kelly.

 

Jim Mohr

Warning: This story contains mentions of suicide and may be triggering for some readers.

 

Jim Mohr grew up in Arcadia, California, in a very loving family. He was the youngest son of Ed and Janet Mohr. As a child, Jim spent his summers on Newport Beach, California where he developed his love for surfing and all water sports. Jim had the fondest of memories growing up in his family and considered them some of his best life experiences.

Jim started playing Pop Warner Football at the age of 8. An extremely gifted athlete, he excelled at this sport and quickly became a standout player. Jim LOVED the game of football. He loved the off-season weight training, practices and the camaraderie of his teammates. The combination of his raw talent, work ethic, and natural leadership abilities led him to be an exceptional high school player. Described by his teammates as a “one man wrecking ball who played with reckless abandonment,” Jim started his freshman year on varsity as both the running back and defensive back. He was also the punt receiver and played almost the entire game in every game in his four years at Arcadia High.

His accomplishments included being elected to the first team L.A. Times All-San Gabriel Valley football team in 1977 and 1978. In 1978, he scored 21 touchdowns, rushed for 1,322 yards and averaged 8.3 yards per carry. Jim was named by the L.A Times and the Pasadena Star as Running Back of the Year and All-San Gabriel Valley Defensive Back of the Year along with being selected Most Valuable Player in the Pacific League and named to the All-CIF First Team. Jim was selected to play in the Shrine All Star game, and he was elected co-captain by his teammates with John Elway. He started at both running back and defensive back, helping the North defeat the South 35-15.

Jim went on to play running back, defensive back, and punt returner for Northern Arizona University until he suffered a knee injury requiring ACL reconstruction surgery which ended his football career in his sophomore year. After graduating with a degree in finance, he moved to San Diego to begin his financial advisory career and founded the Mohr Financial Group in 1984. His genuine care for helping people, attention to detail, and unparalleled work ethic led to a very successful career. For almost four decades, Jim worked tirelessly as a financial planner to care for his beloved clients’ needs. Every day, he led by example through his dedication, work ethic and knowledge.

I met Jim in 1986. My co-worker, who was his college football teammate, introduced us. I was taken by his handsomeness, charisma, and understated confidence. I thought Jim came to our office to see his friend so I was surprised when a few weeks later he called to ask me out on our first date to the Huey Lewis and the News concert. We were instantly smitten and were married a year later!

Life with Jim Mohr was my biggest gift. I loved his passion for life, his abundance of energy, his love for adventure, his genuine kindness, compassion, and his warm laugh! As disciplined of a worker as he was, he had the ability not to take himself too seriously and made sure he scheduled in plenty of fun!

Jim loved the beach and was happiest surfing, body boarding and scuba diving. We were able to travel often and spending time with friends was important. Jim was the friend who would make sure to stay in touch with his high school and college friends and would be the organizer of their yearly reunions. He loved his annual boys surfing trips to Samoa, Fiji, Costa Rica, and Nicaragua where he was known to get barreled on a long board in the 10-14 footers acting like it was nothing! He was crazy brave.

We were blessed with three beautiful children; Michael, Kaitlin and Patrick. Raising our family was our biggest joy. Jim was very active with the kids and made sure his relationship with each of our kids was his top priority while running his business. Some of my fondest memories were all the neighborhood whiffle ball games and beach activities he organized for the kids. Jim was not only a father to our children, but as they grew up, he became a best friend and mentor as well. He was their rock and provided a supportive space as they faced life’s challenges. Our kids remark how he taught them to work hard and have a little fun, but more importantly he showed them how to treat everyone with love and kindness. Jim had a genuine way of making everyone he interacted with feel special and loved, a quality we all aim to embody in his absence. We were lucky to have such close relationships with our kids and make very happy family memories throughout the years!

In 2018, Jim and I were at a sweet spot in our lives where we were enjoying the fruits of our labors. Our children were adults and were thriving in their own lives, Jim was successfully in the process of transitioning his practice to our oldest son who had been working with him for the past several years, and we just bought a second home at the base of the Sierra Nevada mountain range near Lake Tahoe, Nevada. We were looking forward to enjoying all the activities that come with retirement: skiing, hiking, biking, travelling and future grandkids! Life was very happy and good.

It was in October of 2018 when Jim’s anxiety and insomnia became more frequent than in the past. We had just returned from Nevada and Jim was back in the office seeing clients. I distinctly remember one day seeing a frozen look of despair on Jim. I had never seen that look before on him. I asked what was wrong. Jim said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I get this gripping feeling of anxiety that comes out of nowhere and it’s a terrible feeling.”

Thinking the cause was situational, I told him I was sure it’s the stress of coming back to work and getting back into the work routine. I shared how I was feeling stress about that as well. Jim had an annual checkup scheduled and his doctor prescribed an anti-depressant for the anxiety. I thought this was too aggressive a treatment, but Jim asked me to support him on this decision because he wanted to give it a try.

In December of 2018, Jim said he was feeling great. 2019 was a very happy year. Our daughter got married and we were enjoying our time in Nevada setting up our new home and enjoying all the fun activities of Lake Tahoe. Life was very happy and good… until 2020.

We started a big landscape remodel project in January 2020. Jim was very excited about this and poured his energy into all the details of the planning process. He would get up early and work all day with the crew. It was a labor of love for him. Everything he did, he gave 100 percent. I started to notice that Jim was having a difficult time remembering details that were discussed even with writing them down. Jim took frequent and detailed notes his whole life, but now he was slow in actually writing the notes.

On Mondays, we would have a morning meeting with the contractors. Jim was slower in his speech delivery and in his note writing so I offered to be the note taker. He shared with me how he was having a hard time understanding all the details of the project. He kept saying he was overwhelmed and felt confused. Thinking it was situational, I told him that I was confused with all these details as well but we will learn all the new systems we were installing. Looking back, I realize that in years prior, Jim never was confused about home improvement projects. He loved all the details and enjoyed every project.

A situation occurred that I felt was a “light switch” moment. The irrigation system we installed was having a water pressure problem. It was a frustrating situation, but Jim’s reaction was so uncharacteristic of him. Jim was a “there’s no problems only solutions” type of man. He came inside, hugged me and sobbed. I was stunned at his reaction. Jim was not afraid to show emotion, but this was not the reaction I was expecting.

The world then went into lockdown due to COVID-19 and his anxiety only intensified. Normally the voice of calm reason, he was feeling intense worry about the situation. Jim was experiencing severe insomnia which seemed to amplify the anxiety. His facial expression seemed to be in a constant state of worry. The whole world was in a state of anxiousness due to the pandemic, so I hoped his intense anxiety was situational.

Jim told me he thought he had early onset of dementia or Alzheimer’s Disease. He was worried about his constant state of confusion and memory loss. Having seen Jim’s beloved dad struggle with Alzheimer’s, I didn’t think that was the case because Alzheimer patients don’t know they are losing their memory. Jim’s symptoms of memory loss, confusion, anxiety, and insomnia worsened. The week prior to Jim’s death, I don’t think he slept more than two hours. I remember waking up and seeing a look of frozen horror on Jim’s face. I will never forget that look as it haunts me to this day. That was the face of severe suffering.

I began to realize there may be more to these “situational” symptoms. A few days later, Jim shared with me that as he was driving, he had to pull over because he didn’t know where he was or where he was driving to. He shared how he was fighting to control his feeling of anxiousness and it took him about 10 minutes to figure out where he was. That was when I realized I needed to pay attention and get some help. Jim agreed it was time to schedule an appointment with the doctor. I told Jim I was there to support him 100 percent.

Two days later, on May 10, 2020, Jim died by suicide. My family and I were devastated and shocked. He left a heartfelt letter which provided much insight on how he was struggling with depression, anxiety, memory loss, confusion, and pain.

Our oldest son, Michael quickly voiced his suspicions of CTE, and our family was in agreement to have his brain studied. Jim shared with Michael a few years earlier how he was worried he may suffer from CTE in the future due to all the times he “got his bell rung.”

Researchers at the VA-BU-CLF Brain Bank diagnosed Jim with Stage 3 (of 4) CTE. I cannot express how grateful I am to the VA-BU-CLF Brain Bank study and to the Concussion Legacy Foundation. The CTE finding helped me understand why Jim suffered the way he did before his death. When I was waiting for the findings, I found it so very helpful to read other Legacy Donors stories. I found similarities and differences in how CTE symptoms present. Those stories shed light on a subject I was unaware of and yet living with in plain sight. Jim hid his symptoms until he couldn’t hide them anymore as CTE took over.

So many times after hearing someone died of cancer, I see “After a brave fight, they lost the battle to cancer.” I believe all victims of CTE fight a brave fight. It’s just a battle that ultimately feels like it can’t be won at this time. As family members affected by CTE, we can help to prevent the battle. We can keep telling the stories of our loved ones.

Jim Mohr loved the game of football and he would want to save the game. Jim once said, “Living with constant anxiety is horrible and I hope none of you experience it.” Tackle CAN and SHOULD wait if we want to reduce the risk of CTE among football players.

 

Paul Oliver

 

 

On March 30, 1984, the future Parade Magazine All-American was introduced to the world by his mother, Janice Oliver. The youngest of three brothers, Paul was not overly talkative, but he immediately had a way about him that made people gravitate towards him. He had an innate ability to bring his family together and was the brother and son who made sure his family was taken care of from an early age. He truly separated himself in athletics.

Paul rose to become one of the nation’s top-five defensive backs during his days at Harrison High School in Kennesaw, Ga., with a dozen interceptions and more than 120 tackles during his last two years suiting up for the Hoyas. But his talent stretched beyond the gridiron. Paul set Harrison’s 400-meter dash record and was part of the school’s record-setting 4x400m relay team. As a standout multisport athlete he had the potential to have a collegiate career in track or football. Paul found his true passion in football.

After sifting through scores of scholarship offers, Paul decided to attend and play football at the University of Georgia. His drive for the sport blossomed in Athens and he connected with another family – his Bulldog teammates and coaches. It was also on the UGA campus that he met a Bulldog volleyball player from California named Chelsea Young and the two quickly became inseparable. On the field, Paul battled for playing time his first two seasons before starting all 13 contests in 2006 and finishing with 57 tackles, including 6.5 tackles for loss, and three interceptions. His final season with the Bulldogs finished with a highlight, as Paul limited future NFL All-Pro receiver Calvin Johnson to a pair of catches for 13 yards during the win over the Yellow Jackets.

Paul decided to throw his hat in the ring during the 2007 NFL Supplemental Draft and was selected in the fourth round by the San Diego Chargers. He ended up playing in 57 games for the Chargers between 2008-11, starting 12, and had 144 stops to go with an interception during each of his five years in the League. During this period, Paul, the quiet, driven defensive back, and Chelsea, the outspoken volleyball setter, married and had two sons, Simeon and Silas.  Paul had a relentless love for his wife and kids and found his new life’s passion in being a father and husband.

After Paul retired from the NFL, his characteristic drive began to fade. He suffered near constant headaches and battled depression. Paul departed this world too soon on September 24, 2013 at the age of 29. His brain was donated to the UNITE Brain Bank, where Dr. Ann McKee diagnosed him with Stage 2 (of 4) CTE. In 2019, the University of Georgia Athletic Department launched the “Wall of Inspir8tion”, where students can post inspirational notes to others and find informational materials on where to find help if you are struggling. Paul’s legacy will never be forgotten by his Bulldog family.