Bob David (BD): Bill, at age 84, you are about to retire as chaplain at Boston Medical Center. You’ve been there for 18½ years, which means you were around 65 when you came onboard. Can you give a rundown of your rich history and experience before then, which I understand was not without controversy? ...more

Take a peek into my life—the life of a woman who fell apart, got back up, fell down, got back up again, got knocked down, and remains getting up, never losing her hope, faith, and determination.

I am a 46-year-old African American woman. I was raised in a single-parent household and never met my father. I can’t recall the exact age, but I do know that I was under ten when my adult male cousin molested me. ...more

“Lift her up, Lord! Take that fluid from her body. I’m going to keep on praying to you day and night... Almighty God, make her well. Which will be a great testimony to you for all patients and doctors and nurses to see.” These were prayers of the sister of a 47-year-old black Baptist woman who was critically ill with cancer. ...more

After our ceremonies a few of us
Crossed Puget Sound to MacNeill Island
To the grim fortress where the Brotherhood
Of American Indian prisoners had donated
To help our intertribal spiritual gathering.
I held my breath as the iron doors
Slid and clanked behind us, but
Through an open door down the hall
The pounding of a drum, lusty voices sang— ...more

Frank McGuire was a 51-year-old United Methodist minister dying of pancreatic cancer who wanted to share a message with others but was too weak to put his thoughts on paper. So I volunteered to write down what he wanted to say. We did not meet in the hospital, but in his home in Virginia, where I drove to see him. The year was 1991. A social worker as well as a minister, Frank and I were longtime close friends. We did street work together night after night during the summer of 1968, when thousands of so-called “hippies” flocked to the Boston Common. ...more

HOME FROM IRAQ

In August 2009, Reverend Denis Como, S.J. returned to Boston from a 3-year assignment in Iraq. Born in Massachusetts in 1936, he came home for well-deserved R&R. He did not suffer any wounds, post-traumatic stress disorder, or physical or mental injury. When told that he had recently been in Iraq, people who just met Father Como would ask “Oh, were you there with our boys?” He would reply serenely, “No, I was there with their boys.” ...more

When I met and fell in love with my charming, fascinating, creative ex-husband, I never saw the addict. We came together as poet and painter, with great passion for our respective gifts and for each other. It would be six months before I would begin to suspect that this exciting roller coaster ride of joint inspiration and creativity came with “another woman”—Lady Crack Cocaine. ...more

Our parents, in-laws, aunts and uncles are dropping like flies. Rarely two weeks go by without my hearing about someone’s relative finally giving up or giving in and leaving for good. In most cases, this is good. I know how cold and heartless this sounds, but none of us lives forever, and in the great majority of these cases, the soon-to-be-deceased are more than ready to go. ...more

The poem below distills for me the year 2003, when I was diagnosed and treated for ovarian cancer. I was partway through chemotherapy when the inspiration for the poem arose. It took seconds to write.

I had joined a meditation group for patients at the Dana Farber Cancer Institute. We were drumming and shaking tambourines and other instruments during one of the sessions. My heart was beating real fast. The boom boom boom was going right through me. With a passion I wanted to beat this cancer. ...more

“I realized while I was away I married you just because I thought you’d make a good officer’s wife. I never loved you. I’m leaving.” ...more