Dennis Gould -- June 5, 1945 - July 10, 2013

                            BEFORE I KNEW HIS NAME I KNEW I LIKED HIM.

I first time I saw Dennis he was standing in a huge box of honey dew melons at the Julian Pantry. In addition to a melon, he gave everybody who walked by a kind word, or a hug, or a cigarette, often all three. And if he was especially happy to see someone, he’d dance a little jig. 




By the time I knew his name was Dennis, I loved him.

Over the past four years, we met regularly at Peet’s on Potrero where he told me stories about Philadelphia, Vietnam, and San Francisco in the 70s. He would recall baseball minutia, then as if by magic, we’d seamlessly and enthusiastically be discussing his adventures in Buena Vista Park. When I say he told me these stories, what that really means is everybody at Peet’s heard these stories. But we were never once asked to leave, because everybody who works at Peet’s loved Dennis too.

Over the past four years, we met regularly at Peet’s on Potrero where he told me stories about Philadelphia, Vietnam, and San Francisco in the 70s. He would recall baseball minutia, then as if by magic, we’d seamlessly and enthusiastically be discussing his adventures in Buena Vista Park. 

When I say he told me these stories, what that really means is everybody at Peet’s heard these stories. But we were never once asked to leave, because everybody who works at Peet’s loved Dennis too.

On October 19, 2010 I took Dennis to see the Giants play the Phillies in the National Championship Series. The two weeks leading up to the game, were…intense. Dennis was like a little kid who couldn’t control his excitement. With his arms flying he’d say,

“I never in my wildest dreams 

thought something like this would happen to me.”

We were in VR section 321. In other words, cloud level. Dennis was up and down those ramps, in and out of the park, so many times to smoke, he missed half the game. But that didn’t matter, Dennis could still rattle off the line-up - Cain was pitching, Posey catching, Huff, Sanchez, Uribe 1^st, 2^nd, 3^rd. The Giants won; even if we’d lost, he’d have had the same reaction. For months Dennis raved about being at a Championship playoff game.

“I never thought I’d ever have the opportunity to 

see a game like that.  You don’t know what you’ve done for me; 

it was a highlight of my life.  

No, it was the highlight of my life.”

It felt good to be the recipient of his effusive gratitude. But the truth is, with his free-flowing compliments, and enthusiastic thank yous, Dennis made everyone feel special. He was extraordinarily gifted at boosting the spirits of those around him.

A little over a year ago, Dennis asked me to help him go to a place where he could be still. He didn’t care where it was, as long as it was safe and quiet. I arranged for him to go to the Bishop’s Ranch in Healdsburg for a week - a beautiful retreat in the wine country operated by the Episcopal Diocese. Dennis had some sort of mystical experience one night. This is what he told me –

One night as he was sleeping, he was jolted awake by a force so powerful that it knocked him out of bed. This was no dream, the impact of his boney body on the hard floor left him wide-awake. Detailed images of horrific and shameful experiences came flooding back. Nothing was left out; he relived it all.

But in a flash, the terror disappeared and the darkness lifted. And there was an immense and incredible love that can best be described as being held by God. God, and all that is magnificent, had been revealed. And in that moment of revelation, all of the guilt, and regret, and fear that had tormented Dennis for years dissolved.

At once Dennis knew that he was, and had always been, loved and forgiven.

As Dennis told this story, his untamed spirit shone even brighter. Seeing God face-to-face had broken opened his heart and filled it with love. But my heart ached by what he said next.

“I’ve never wanted life more than I do now. For years I didn’t care if I lived or died. But now, I have seen angels dance on the head of a pin, and I want to live. ”

In the Gospel reading we heard, Jesus is hanging on the cross between two criminals. All three will soon die. I want you to know that I didn’t choose this reading for Dennis. With sure and certain hope of eternal life, Dennis knew the truth of the words Jesus spoke to the criminals. But I need to hear these words, and perhaps some you need to hear them too – they are balm for the grieving heart. Jesus said,

 Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.

Dennis was joyful and passionate; an absolute blessing in all of our lives; 
may he light up heaven as much as he lit up earth, 
and may the saints greet our beloved brother in paradise with a little jig.

Amen.