The following are replications of documents relating to my brother Alan Rose's passing 04/14/19.
Alan's Baltimore Sun Obituary Notice
https://www.baltimoresun.com/news/obituaries/bs-md-ob-alan-rose-20190417-story.html
Alan M. Rose, a Roman Catholic deacon and prison chaplain who brought hope to the incarcerated, dies
By Frederick N. Rasmussen, Contact Reporter, The Baltimore Sun (fred.rasmussen@baltsun.com)
Alan M. Rose, a former college English professor who became a Roman Catholic deacon and whose prison ministry included leading convicted child murderer and Death Row inmate Kirk N. Bloodsworth to Catholicism, died Sunday of cancer at Gilchrist Center Towson.
The Parkville resident was 88.
"Al was a great, gentle, kind and a self-effacing man, " said the Rev. H. Martin 'Marty' Hammond, former pastor of St. Isaac Jogues Roman Catholic Church in Carney, where Mr. Rose had been a deacon.
"He had a passion for the poor, and when he was a prison chaplain, he was among the roughest of the roughest, and had been there for executions, " said Father Hammond, an Elkridge resident. "He was an amazing man, and I admired him because he was a real man of love and service. "
Elinor Burkett, a New York City resident, was on the history faculty at Frostburg State University in 1975, where Mr. Rose was an English professor.
"We were an unlikely pair of friends: The buttoned-down English professor who'd come up from the Naval Academy and the young history professor who was a young radical trying to shake things up, " Dr. Burkett, a former Miami Herald journalist who is now an author, wrote in an email.
"But Al's 'package' was always deceiving. When I began working with Baltimore City students being recruited to live in that lily-white mountain town, it was Al who was my firmest ally, " Dr. Burkett wrote.
"When students with learning disabilities needed help, it was Al who pushed for special assistance for them. It was hardly surprising that when he retired and was ordained as a deacon, he opted to go to work in the prison system, " she wrote.
"After all, this is the man who quit the local country club in Frostburg when it refused to admit black applicants, the only faculty member to do so, " she wrote.
Alan Manuel Rose was born and raised in Chicago, the son of Alvin Rose, Chicago welfare commissioner and later Public Housing director, and Anita Rose, a homemaker.
He was a graduate Senn High School in Chicago and was stationed at Bainbridge Naval Center as a clerk while serving in the Navy from 1950 to 1954.
Dr. Rose, who had earlier attended Colorado College and the University of Wisconsin, transferred to the Johns Hopkins University, from which he earned a bachelor's degree in 1956 and was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. He received both his master's and doctoral degrees in English from Columbia University.
Literary interests included Victorian literature and English Romantic literature.
From 1958 to 1968, he was on the faculty of the Naval Academy, and while in Annapolis, the accomplished fencer was fencing coach at St. John's College.
Dr. Rose taught English from 1968 to 1989, when he was ordained a Roman Catholic deacon, and began serving as a deacon at the Maryland State Penitentiary and later at Patuxent.
One of the prisoners Dr. Rose got to know and counsel at the penitentiary was Kirk N. Bloodsworth, the former Marine and Eastern Shore waterman who was convicted in 1985 of the 1984 rape and murder of Dawn Hamilton, a 9-year old Rosedale resident, and sentenced to Death Row.
During his years at the penitentiary, Dr. Rose had heard plenty of inmate's stories about their innocence.
"You work enough years among inmates and you get a feel how guys tell stories, " he told The Catholic Review in a 2007 article. "There was no question in my mind that this guy was speaking the truth. "
The two became close friends, with Dr. Rose and Mr. Bloodsworth spending hours in deep theological discussions.
"He certainly helped get me through because he always believed in me and he ushered me into the Catholic Church, " said Mr. Bloodsworth, who now lives near Philadelphia. "He came for weekly visits and they let him in my cell. He was a wonderful human being, and I became a Catholic while in prison. "
Mr. Bloodsworth had been studying his catechism for months, and by Easter 1989, was ready to be received into the church.
"Al got Bishop John Ricard to come in, and we stood underneath the gas chamber, " he recalled.
A prison guard then asked Bishop Ricard to leave Mr. Bloodsworth's cell.
"He administered the sacraments and put his hands through the bars to bless me. It was quite a moment for me, " Mr. Bloodsworth said, who told The Catholic Review in a 2012 interview, that after taking Communion for the first time, he felt that it was "an honor " and "I felt clean. I felt accepted. "
Mr. Bloodsworth's mother, Jeanette Bloodsworth, died five months before DNA evidence proved the innocence that he had long proclaimed.
"Al was there when they told me of my mother's death. He was there I was given leave, and Al and two guards went with me to view my mother's remains in Cambridge, " he said. "He came with a friend of mine and they helped soften the blow. He was with me at a terrible moment in my life. "
"I told Kirk that your mom is up there in heaven, " Dr. Rose told The Catholic Review in 2012. "The saints do intercede for us and I just believe that lady had something to do with him getting the break with the DNA evidence. "
Mr. Bloodsworth, who was released from prison in 1993 and also pardoned that year, became the first American on Death Row to be exonerated through DNA testing.
After leaving prison work, Dr. Rose served as chaplain from 1995 to the mid-2000s at the Joseph Richey House in downtown Baltimore, which is now the Gilchrist Center at Baltimore.
Dr. Rose was a deacon at St. Isaac Jogues for more than a decade, where he volunteered with its Special Friends, ministering to adults with developmental disabilities and their families.
He also led skill development groups and taught GED for low-income adults with mental illness at Mosaic Community Services in Towson, which is part of the Sheppard Pratt Health System.
"I always knew when the Lord moved him on to other opportunities, " Father Hammond said.
For years until moving in 2015 to the Oak Crest Retirement Community in Parkville, Dr. Rose and his wife of 66 years, the former Abbie Herring, lived at Sleepy Acres, once the home of Odie Boone Herring, on Autumn Leaf Road in Towson, that dates to 1903.
"I spoke with him a few weeks ago on the phone and I told him I loved him, and he told me the same thing, " Mr. Bloodsworth said.
"I thought of him as a sort of Old Testament figure --- not the fire and brimstone but the belief in doing what is right for rights sake, " wrote Dr. Burkett.
His son, Scott Rose of Frederick, who is also a deacon, said his father's hobbies were "his family and his ministry. "
A funeral service will be held at noon Saturday at St. Isaac Jogues, 9215 Old Harford Road.
In addition to his wife and son, Dr. Rose is survived by another son, Dean Rose of Pocatello, Idaho; a brother, Peter Rose of Durham, N.H.; and four grandchildren.
Scott's Funeral Homily
The Second Reading and the Gospel were my father's favorite scriptural passages. He loved them, and he lived them. Each reading speaks to one of two major parts of my dad. The Matthew passage describes his intense ministry, a profound commitment to service and duty. The John passage describes his lighter, ordinary love and devotion to family and friends.
In the Matthew passage, Jesus offers the ultimate social justice commandment:
"For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me… Whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me. "
Here, the suffering Jesus is mysteriously, physically present in four types of people in need: The First is people who are poor (those without food, drink, or clothes). The Second is people who are immigrants (here, the English word stranger is more literally translated from the Greek to be a foreigner). The Third is people who are ill. And the Forth is people who are in prison. Dad covered all four.
After 30 years of being a college professor, my father became a prison chaplain, leaving the comfortable life of academia, being ordained as a Catholic deacon and moving to Baltimore to serve as chaplain at the Maryland Penitentiary and then Patuxent. After that, he was a hospice chaplain, caring for those who were ill. In retirement, he served low-income adults living with mental illness. In all three of these roles, he focused on individuals who simultaneously struggled with the additional challenge of being poor. Finally, he served as a parish deacon with St. Isaac Jogues, preaching about service and participating in outreach ministries.
And Dad's legacy completes his Matthew 25 ministry. His grandson Justin, an emergency room physician, not only cares for people who are ill, he also tries to cure them. His granddaughter, Aubrey, who will start her first job as a public defender this fall, not only visits people in prison, she also tries to free them. And rounding out the Matthew commandment, his grandson, Austin, is studying to become an immigration lawyer, not only welcoming the stranger, but also helping them to remain in our country to be safe.
But there was another side to Dad. A lighter, simple love for family and friends, as described in the second reading from John: "Let us love one another, because love is of God. "
It was that simple to Dad. While he was Deacon Rose to many, he was Al, Dad, Bro, Grandpa, Uncle Al, and Dr. Rose to family, friends, and college students. Whereas his service ministry was about duty, his love of family and friends was about devotion.
He enjoyed sharing good wine with his brother, Peter, and trading insults in jest. He savored holidays with family and annual reunions, wanting to linger longer when my mother had the Herring itch to go home early to let the dogs out or cut firewood. He married and buried family and friends.
He started a boy's fencing club so that my brother Dean could learn to fence, sitting anxiously at tournaments, almost losing it at the NCAAs where Dean placed 8th in the nation, thanks to Dad's early years of coaching. And Dean returned that devotion for the past two years of Dad's health struggles, traveling frequently to help from across the country in Idaho – at one point living with them for 7 weeks to drive Dad daily to radiation treatments.
He grieved deeply with the deaths of his in-laws as if they were his own blood – Mom's parents, her Sister Barb, and her brother Bud – and Mary Liz's brothers and parents. He delighted in the special connection he had with each of this three grandchildren, and was so honored that Justin would take medical advice calls from wherever he was—even when he was working the ER in Idaho. He often joked that the entire family seemed to be on red alert around his bowel movements.
While my parents walked different spiritual paths, they were bound together in love and shared the value of justice. When their country club in Frostburg in the 1970's refused membership to a Black man, my parents quit in protest. My mother did most of her service work behind the scenes—often in the shadows. The past couple of months, literally in the shadows. Mom woke up every four hours to give Dad a pain pill. And Mom emptied Dad's ostomy bag each day because his hand tremors prevented him from doing it. That's both devotion and duty.
At the final hour of his death, after we moved him to the inpatient hospice at Gilchrist, the very organization Dad had been chaplain for, service and love came together again one last time. Jesus showed up in the form of Cal, Dad's former clerk, who mysteriously arrived and lead everyone in prayer. But it was love of family that sent Dad on from this life – he finally let go when I assured him that Dean and I would take care of Mom. The last prayer he heard was service. His last breath was love.
My faith tells me that Dad is now embraced in peace. To be honest, while that has given me some consolation, it has been more conceptual to me at times. What has helped me the most -- and what I offer to you in your grief -- is a vivid memory very early Sunday morning at home when I first realized he was dying. I was lying next to him in bed, and he was in twilight sleep. He reached his arms toward the ceiling, circled his hands, and then lowered his arms very slowly to cross his chest and bow his head. The man who hugged people his whole life, was, at the end, embraced by a heavenly body – perhaps his beloved Aunt Clara. I believed before in my head. I believe now in the very depths of my heart.
We thank each you for embracing my father these past two years. We thank each of you for embracing us, his family, today as we grieve. And I invite each of you in the years to come, if you experience trials and tribulations, to let my dad embrace you.
Sue's Eulogy: When Souls Visit
A cardinal is a representative of a loved one who has passed. When you see one, it means they are visiting you. They usually show up when you most need them or miss them. They also make an appearance during times of celebration as well as despair to let you know they will always be with you.
I had heard the cardinals around our home, but had not seen one for some time. My husband was cooking his celebration dinner in honor of his brother in hospice care while Alan's favorite classical music played in the background. I was sitting in the kitchen window seat keeping him company and suddenly saw a brilliant red cardinal land at the edge of the lawn.
The cardinal stayed nearby for 15 minutes or so..in no particular hurry to go anywhere. As he started wandering out of sight, the telephone signaled the call we had been anticipating letting us know our dear brother had passed approximately 20 minutes earlier.
We have been regretful that Al and his wife, Abbie, had never been able to make the trip to see our new home in the country. We were sure they would love it; especially the porch rocking! It brings so much joy that Al stopped by to
see our home and comfort us in our despair.
We love you, Al! Stop by again soon.
We encountered a similar visit when my Mom passed in 2016. As soon as the immediate family gathered at my brother's a beautiful butterfly started flying all around us and then landed in a maple tree near where we were sitting. Shortly thereafter we were traveling to the funeral home in two vehicles when we got stopped in construction traffic. We were so surprised when a butterfly starting darting around our two vehicles and then flew off in the direction we were then headed.
One day about a month later my brother and I were standing by some Fall mums discussing which color she would enjoy having us put by her headstone when a butterfly landed right in front of us. Of course it landed on her favorite color: purple!
A year later she visited our backyard for our October wedding. It was a very intimate gathering of just immediate family, and .. there she was!
A butterfly is said to symbolize someone in heaven whom you are missing; they are letting us know that they are free of their pain and suffering. They're free!
We love your backyard visits, Mom!
Sue's Tribute: We Have Known Greatness
We have known greatness.
This greatness has worn the many masks of humility, modesty, humbleness, humor, respect, inspiration,
empathy, curiosity, passion and generosity, to name a few. This man's keen eye for seeing a need or
opportunity to encourage another is nothing less than extraordinary.
Being of service is his nature; if he has an intolerance, it would be for one of us to pass by another
human in need if it was within our means to help in any way.
He has inspired many through the love of learning, spiritual guidance and comfort and some much needed
honesty delivered with a measure of kindness. Guided and directed always he gives these gifts
to others as trust, respect, courage, hope, and vision Let us all now share those things and allow them
to grow and expand in beautiful and powerful ways.
A child at heart, he will howl at the full moon with you (yep! Not so very long ago) and be like a
sponge when learning about any place or anything new. As a child does, he approaches life with
curiosity, an open heart and an open mind.
I have spent a lot of time thinking about a man I wish I had known longer and how I squandered some
precious time since I met him. Honestly… I was quickly intimidated by his intelligence and his
understanding of the world, it's people and their humanness.
He has witnessed with pride as others worked diligently to overcome their hardships and turn their lives
around, but the pride he exhibits more easily and more frequently is the pride of his children and
grandchildren...the good and remarkable people they have become and their impressive
accomplishments. And pride to have been blessed with his marriage to Abbie for nearly 66 years.
Yes, we have known greatness. We have known Al Rose, who lives with passion and vision in his
heart.
Austin's Eulogy to His Grandfather
My dad spoke about my grandfather's remarkable commitment to service. You might think that a person who spent so much time carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders could not possibly have the time or the strength left to also care for his family. But my grandpa always found a way to give even more, to stretch his love as far as it could go.
My sister Aubrey and I saw our grandpa as a third parent. So much so, in fact, that we used to call him 'Pa' until, after some strange looks from people at the mall, he kindly asked us to tack on the 'Grand.' We, of course, obliged.
Our grandpa's word was golden to us. When we had an important essay or college application, Grandpa was always the first to take a look. A seasoned, and might I add mildly cantankerous, former English professor, he always riddled our offerings with corrections and suggestions, and then worked patiently with us to build them back up. As we pursued our future careers in service, we always looked to him as a model, hoping we could come at least close to living up to his image. And when significant others came into our lives, there always came a time a few months in for them to meet Grandpa. My sister's fiancée Sean can tell you all about what that's like, but I can tell you he passed with flying colors.
But as much as Aubrey and I craved our grandpa's approval, we always knew that we never needed to win it. He loved us, and his entire family, unconditionally. My heart would always glow as I listened to him rave about his family. He would find ways to drop into the conversation that his son and my dad, Scott, was also a Catholic deacon doing impressive work in his community. He frequently mentioned how he knew from the first day he met her that my mom – "fresh off the boat from Ireland" – was "The One" for my dad. He spoke of my sister as if she was his daughter, fascinated by her brilliance and her spunk. He talked excitedly for weeks leading up to my Uncle Dean's visits from the West Coast, telling his friends about Dean's fencing adventures. He gushed about how we had a doctor – Justin – in the family, and welcomed Justin's wife Candace into the family with open arms, enthralled by the way their unique personalities came together perfectly. And he loved his wife Abby deeply, always mentioning whenever she would win an argument that he was glad he found someone who was fierce enough to keep him in check.
I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with grandpa during his final days, living with he and Granny in their retirement community for a summer two years ago, and visiting frequently over the last few months. During one such visit, he asked me – ever curious despite the pain he was going through – how law school was going. I told him about my recent trip to the border and explained my plans to gain more clinical experience in immigration law. Grandpa responded enthusiastically: "Wow, you're not just learning, you are really out their doing it!" That simple comment touched me deeply because all I ever wanted was to "do" the way my grandpa did, to serve as he served, and to love as he loved. With my grandpa's legacy guiding me, I will always strive throughout my life to keep "doing," until the day I see him again.
MaryLiz's Prayer: When Death Comes
When Death Comes next to Alan's bedside when all of the family were present.
Aubrey's Prayer
O Lord, support us all the day long, until the shadows lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in thy mercy, grant us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last. Amen.