Fioretti Tales
 9 January 2024 

Father Terry Adams, T.O.R. 

But a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse
and from his roots a bud shall blossom.
The spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him
a spirit of wisdom and understanding
a spirit of counsel and of strength
a spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord,
and his delight shall be the fear of the Lord. (Isaiah)

Fascinating. At the end of his earthly days, that is how I will remember Terry Adams. In the beginning of our association ... July 1962, I feared Terry Adams.

Who was this big guy, every bit of six feet three inches of muscle. Who was this clod with a girl's name who was to supplant me as the premier athlete at Mount Assisi. Brother Jean Marie had made his 1" profession and was looking for a bunk in Alvernia Hall. He was almost too big for our standard army surplus cots. His reputation as a jock was welcomed; we needed that power, strength, height and speed to dominate our opponents. I dreaded losing our winning record, especially against the "sems." We had lost Dunstan, Victor and Jeremiah to ordination and our softball season was just beginning.

His try outs were promising, he could hit, run and field, at Kelley Hall, he could shoot pretty well on the basketball court. He could "run and jump and play" ... but, he was a gentle giant. Something about those Altoona kids, good fundaments, but no street savvy. Just like Sneezy. Today, I would compare him to prime-time jockey, Julian Leparoux. Julian rides like the wind as a front runner, but can't mix it up inside. Terry needed some anger.

I pushed and shoved him around the basketball court, got in his face, told him he was a wimp. No retaliation. Just a wry smile.  Then one day, he asked me to toughen him up. So, I asked if ever played contact football; blocking and tackling. No, but he wanted to learn. We found a copes' of trees across the road from the new seminary. Jean Marie and I did tackling and blocking drills for a few afternoons. Then I called it off, he was killing me. His blocks became devastating, his tackles forced my breath away. But he was still a gentle giant. He would never be anything else.

I went away from the Seminary in May of 1964, and Terry carried on and I lost track of him. We saw each other occasionally until my dispensation in 1975, and then it was near 10 years later, before we met again in Northen Virginia. It was in Herndon, St. Joseph parish, he was a parochial vicar. I was registered in the neighboring parish, St. Timothy, as my son was in school there. But we cheated a lot, and went to St Joe's whenever I could. Three great Priest-friends were there: Father Edmund Carroll was pastor and Fathers Ivan and Terry were assistants. Three of my very close friends from our clericate days in Loretto.

Sharon, my wife, was always amazed as to the fact that all three of the friars came outside before and after each Mass to greet and meet the parishioners. It was ever a joy to go to Sunday morning Mass at St. Joe's. Three of the most lovable characters, and with Edmund always providing comical relief. But while I laughed with Edmund and Ivan, she would watch Terry, the big lad; bending down, even on his knees, talking with the youngsters. They flocked to him ... it was biblical, a re-enactment of Christ with the little children.

He was still the Jean Marie I knew from the mid 1960's; but now, sans the girl's name, that was Father Terry of the 1980's.

I don't recall his assignments after the Herndon stay, only saw him occasionally at Friar gatherings or funerals. That is, until his assignment to the Ministry of Prayer at Mount Assisi, due to his declining health. He was still a gentle man, not so much a giant anymore. He was bent, his legs and back caused him great pain ... probably because he bent over so much to talk with little children or kneeling with the as he told the stories of Christ and Francis and just continued to spread more joy. We always had a few minutes together in Loretto these past many years. We always greeted each other with smiles and joy. He would always ask about my family, and I would ask about his brothers, especially Joe and Paula, who had also lived in Herndon.

That gentle giant has now gone home, and I can't help think of the Oscar Wilde fairy tale; The Selfish Giant. But Terry was never selfish, you were always first when you talked with him, and in those last many years, wheel chair bound, he prayed for you and your intentions; not for himself or his health. As big a guy as he was, he won't try to push his way into heaven: the Father will run out to him and lead him past Peter and his gatekeepers and set him at the head table.

How could anyone, not love Terry Adams, that gentle giant with a big and joyous heart. Love you, my brother, Jean Marie (Terry) Adams -- your antagonist,