Harry Victor Wells

by Father Stephen Alcott, O.P., nephew of Harry

May 5, 2017

Gospel: John 14:1-6

“I am going to prepare a place for you.”

Jesus speaks these words after his last supper with his friends, the disciples. His last supper before he leaves them to take up his cross and die. They are naturally afraid, and troubled in their hearts, and he knows this. So he speaks these words to encourage them to hope and trust that, even though they will see him die, they will not be separated from him forever. In his love, he goes to prepare a place for him in his Father’s house, so that where he is, they also may be.

Isn’t this the way of all authentic love? We prepare a place for the one we love. We make that person know that they are at home, that they belong. We give them everything we can so they will have everything they need, and then some. We want them to be with us where we are.

In Harry’s life, there were many people—many of whom are right here in this church—who prepared a place for him. Many who made sure that, despite his challenges, he felt at home; he belonged; he was loved, and could be with those who loved him.

A place was prepared for him in his family, as the youngest of six brothers and sisters, and as the son of two loving parents. While the struggles stemming from his autism manifested themselves at a very early age, Harry found a loving home with his family. This was not without frustrations. Harry liked to play with the TV, and to purposely tune it between stations, where to see the “wiggle waggle” lines. Once, when the family arrived home after a car trip, Harry bolted out of the car, ran into the house, and locked all the doors, so that he could play with the TV set without interruption. Another time, Harry poured a pitcher of water through the keys of a portable organ. But to his family, that was just “being Harry”. This was simply an opportunity to take the organ apart, with the help of a young man named Gerald Cooperman, one of Nan’s boyfriends, and try to fix it.

Even when Harry grew up, and grew big and tall, and had to move to the Northern Virginia Training Center, his parents tried to bring him home to visit every weekend, and also for family reunions. I remember visiting with Harry during these reunions when I was much younger. It was clear that he was always part of our family.

A place was prepared for Harry also in church, at St. James Parish. His mother Kay dedicated herself to making Special Religious Education (SPRED) available for Harry and other young people with special needs. It was here at St. James that he learned his faith, his prayers (his whole life he could recited the Our Father), and received his sacraments.

A place was prepared for Harry in his adulthood in a devoted and generous community of caregivers at the Northern Virginia Training Center and, more recently, in the Ravensworth Group Home with Bellwether Behavioral Health. Many of his fellow residents came along with many of the staff last night to pay their respects at his visitation. There, he was made to feel at home too.

A place was prepared for Harry even today. Years ago, his parents met with Harry’s brothers and sisters at the beach to make sure that Harry would be well cared for once his parents went to God. They even provided in advance for all the expenses of his funeral: his casket, the flowers, his headstone, his burial plot, the music, and even a stipend for the priest! (They didn’t realize at the time that the priest would be a grandson of theirs—and I promise that I will sign over the stipend to my parents who paid for my plane ticket to get here from Ohio.)

And in one sense, even though Harry could not do as much on his own, he helped prepare a place for others, at least indirectly: just be being who he is, he prepared a place in the hearts of his family for other people with special needs like him. All of his sisters chose careers—perhaps it would be better to say vocations—that focused on serving people that needed special education or therapy. His mother, as we know, helped widen the religious education program at this parish to serve children with special needs like Harry. His father, Harry E. Wells, worked to make sure that the Northern Virginia Training Center was well provided for, including with a playground and walking trail. Harry’s brothers and sisters advocated for him his whole adult life, especially when, due to state budget decisions, the Northern Virginia Training Center had to be closed and he needed a group home that would provide for Harry’s unique needs and challenges.

Harry helped widen the hearts of many people who, in making a place for Harry, learned to see and serve the needs of many others who could easily be ignored or forgotten because of their challenges and the extra patience they require.

And now, today, in this church of St. James, we entrust Harry into the hands of his Creator, his Father in Heaven; and into the hands of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd who will prepare a place for Harry in his Father’s house, and to whom we have already entrusted Harry’s parents, Kay and Harry, and Harry’s brother Pat. The Good Shepherd we sang about in our Responsorial Psalm who knows the way through the darkest valley, through the shadows of death, because he has been there already, and knows the way through. He knows the way to the green fields, to the running waters, to the great feast of Heaven, to the abundant life that Harry (along with each one of us) was created to share forever. In our faith, we know that God promises abundance, and not just enough to scrape by. He promises a feast.

Harry seemed in his own way to understand the concept of abundance. He never seemed to be satisfied with just one of anything. He talked about not one sun, but “two suns;” not one moon, but “two moons;” not one goodbye kiss, but “two kisses.” When David Schwind brought Holy Communion to Harry not long before Harry passed away, Harry wanted not one, but “two hosts.” And, God bless him, David did give him two hosts. David also told me that years ago, when he took Harry to McDonald’s, Harry’s favorite place to eat, Harry wanted not six, but “twenty McNuggets.” Harry was a big man with a big appetite, but maybe there is a deeper reason: we all are created with a desire for abundance; not just enough enough to scrape by, but to live our lives to the full. We want to be loved, not just a little, but loved completely for our whole life. We want to live, not just a life burdened by much suffering and sickness and disability, but a life of happiness, and a joy that will keep going . . . forever.

And so, not having this power to receive or give this kind of abundance on our own, we ask our Lord to prepare a place for Harry. Like the disciples at the last supper, we too feel sad, afraid, and our hearts are shaken and troubled. Sometimes we don’t dare to hope, after so many disappointments, in the promises of God. This was the case with Mary Magdalene, one of the most faithful disciples of Jesus, who came to his tomb not expecting to find him risen from the dead, but only to be near his dead body and weep for him. Her faith and hope had been shaken; her heart was deeply troubled. And yet Jesus met her at the empty tomb with a smile, and called her by name. And her tears were wiped away, and gave place to joy. Jesus widened her heart, widened her faith, widened her hope.

Today, as we entrust Harry into the hands of God, we too ask God to widen our hearts. To help us hope, to help us believe, in the face of loss. To follow him, even through the valley of death, when our time comes. And also to widen our hearts to make room for many people like Harry, that we might serve them and make them feel at home. So that one day, having served them—and in serving them, serving Christ himself—we may see Him when all is made new, and be ourselves welcomed to our eternal home in the Father’s house: Heaven.

Eulogy by Dr. Mark Diorio, Former Director of the Northern Virginia Training Center

Harry Wells

I have had the pleasure of knowing Harry Wells and his family for over 22 years. I am honored that the family asked me to speak today about Harry. If you will indulge me, I would like to share things about the man Harry V. Wells. Some of these things may be obvious, while others may not.

Harry was a Big Man

Harry was 6 feet 6 inches tall, with broad shoulders, and hands that could grip a basketball with ease or a flower with gentle touch. But Harry wasn't just a big man physically; he was a giant of a man in many other ways. Harry cared about others; he was kind; he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. His heart was every bit as large as he was.

Harry was Stubborn and Persistent, but he also had Patience

Harry knew what he wanted, but because of his Autism and our lack of understanding, we sometimes failed to figure out what he was trying to tell us. You all know someone who has this dog-eared persistence, and I am sure you have experienced frustration with their hard headedness and your inability to figure out what they were telling us. By now people are looking at each other saying, yea…and I still love them, but boy sometimes they try my patience. Harry had great patience with us as we tried to figure out what we were missing. When he engaged in some very challenging behaviors to make us pay attention, he demonstrated extreme patience in our failure to listen well. But we all worked through it together.

Harry was an Educator

There are people who make a profound difference in other people’s lives, and inspire them to grow and learn. Harry was one of those men. In my career as a behavioral psychologist, I have had the distinct privilege of working with some of the best and brightest minds in the field of behavior treatment. People like Dr. Judy Favell, Dr. Don Baer, Dr. Dennis Reid, Mohamed Shahbazi and Alan El Tagi, to name a few. And of course, Dr. Richard Foxx who had a very special relationship with Harry.

In 1978, at the young age of 24, Harry became famous for his contributions to the field of applied behavior analysis and behavioral treatment for self-injurious behavior. Harry and Richard’s efforts have made a lasting contribution to clinical treatment and scientific discovery.

Harry was a True Professional

Harry had knowledge to share and was a professional colleague and friend. He taught me and others to be more observant, to be creative, and to think outside the box. And if we messed up, he made sure we knew it. Sometimes in ways that made us both laugh, and in other ways not so. Harry taught me to be humble; he taught me never to give up. I owe him my thanks for trusting me, for making me a better clinician and human being.

Harry always insisted that One was never enough.

When Harry wanted something he liked or ordered food at a restaurant, he was sure that two always made things better. Two hamburgers from Mc Donald’s, two cookies, two hot chocolates from I-Hop, two Cokes. When you really think about it, Harry was just being very practical. Why have one, when you really want two.

Harry truly met the definition of one the Most Interesting Men in the World: The man from Dos Equis was not even close

I already mentioned Harry’s lasting contribution to clinical treatment and scientific discovery. But Harry had a variety of other interests that made him a modern renaissance man.

Harry loved food. We would often watch the Food Network together and he could explain what each ingredient was and when I interrupted, he would just smile. Harry also loved to cook in our Instructional Kitchen at NVTC and would go out to eat when he could; which was never enough.

Harry loved to swim and play in the water. I am sure we have all stood in a shower and let the warm water run cross our face, or when it was hot outside take a dip in the cool pool, not wanting it to end.

Harry loved music from the 60s and 70s, especially the Beatles and the Beach Boys. But he also liked some of the other classics like; You are my Sunshine, A Spoonful of Sugar, and Feeling Groovy, to name a few.

Harry liked to dance and many times he would not sit down for the entire night, and then only when the music stopped. And when a song played that he really liked, his smile could light up a room.

Harry also dappled in the arts. He painted and made pottery, and some of his artwork was on display last night. Perhaps the painting I remember the most was when Harry thought the ceiling tile in his bedroom was rather boring, those plain white squares with small holes, we have all seen them. Well, some of them were just not up to Harry’s ideas of perfection. So he decided to remove them several times. Once I believe he just wanted to see what was behind them, sort of like those modern restaurants and art galleries that leave their ceilings exposed to create the right mood. Another time Harry commented that he wanted to see the sky, but he didn’t have a sky light in his room, so he just removed the ceiling tiles. To fix that oversight, Harry and a few friends painted each ceiling tile, some with clouds and suns, birds and other designs. Truly a work of art and much to Harry’s delight.

Thank you for allowing me to ramble a little about my friend Harry. I want to thank the Wells family for allowing us to share in Harry’s life. It’s been a privilege and an honor.

I like to end this memorial with some lines from one of Harry’s favorite songs…Feeling Groovy

Got no deeds to do, no promises to keep

I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep

Let the morning time drop all its petals on me

Life, I love you, all is groovy.

Good bye my friend and God bless you all.

By Dr. Mark Diorio, Former Director

The Northern Virginia Training Center

The following tribute, written by Cassie Porter, niece of Harry.

This is my favorite picture of my Uncle Harry, taken in 1964, when he was 8 years old. All of us are unique, all of us leave our own mark on the world... but I have yet to meet someone who made as lasting an impact as him. Harry was autistic and had intellectual disabilities-making it difficult for him to communicate and function with others. He had severe behavioral issues, and the most major and challenging was self-abuse. He grew up during a time when autism was just beginning to be understood, and resources were far and few. My grandparents, mother, and aunts and uncles fought for his rights throughout his whole life, from registering him for school even though he would be denied entry, to enriching his life at the Northern Virginia Training Center years later. Harry was such a special, unique, and enigmatic case that doctors and psychologists became fascinated by him. He was the subject of a groundbreaking study in the field of behavioral psychology, and the resulting papers and documentary made about him-published by Dr. Richard Foxx-were internationally known. When my mom was in graduate school, other students were in awe when they found out she was Harry's sister. He is a key reason for the development of treatments and restraint philosophies and techniques for self-abusive individuals with autism, and the research surrounding him has been taught in behavioral psychology programs all over the country. His contributions to research aside, Harry was such an incredible man. From breaking his childhood TV only to fix it with metal egg beaters (and have it work), to creating beautiful paintings as a therapeutic outlet, to pondering natural disasters, gravity, and other scientific concepts no one would have expected him to even notice, Harry was full of surprises. Some people viewed his life as being low in quality. Could he live on his own? Hold a job? Hold complete, coherent conversations? No. He did not meet the definition of success that most people have. But to those lucky enough to know him, Harry enriched and opened minds and hearts. His caregivers - even the hospice nurses during his final days- all fell in love with him, and rightfully so. He was surrounded by love and care, from his family, and from his caregivers that became family from NVTC and the Bellwether Group Home. Toward the end of his life, he was in the hospital the majority of the time. I remember just a few weeks ago sitting next to him in the ER, and looking into his eyes. There I saw an unbelievably sweet, innocent spirit, just trying to understand what was happening to him, and to cope and behave as best he could. During his final days he was non-responsive, but peaceful and comfortable. The profound love that surrounded him at the hospice center was an honor to be a part of. I am so proud of my uncle for being exactly who he was-so perfectly and unequivocally him. He was Harry. Autistic and ID may be the labels most read, but I see more than that: Mary Poppins lover, science philosopher, artist, trickster, water enthusiast, inspiration, puzzle solver, music-maker, #1 Beatles fan... and most of all, a loving brother, son, uncle, and patient-in the best way he knew how. He has taught me the invaluable lesson that life is so rich and full, and so so much better when you break the mold, and fearlessly be yourself. The mark you have upon the world can't be made by anyone else-and it so desperately needs to be left by you. I love you Harry Wells, I love you Harry Wells (because you always wanted things in two's) ❤️

Harry's family asks that in lieu of flowers, donations be made to Kathleen Alcott, in memory of Harry. Mail checks c/o Ruth Porter, 5214 Lonsdale Dr, Springfield VA 22151

Donations will be sent to Harry's group home to enhance the outdoor areas.

Arrangements under the direction of National Funeral Home, Falls Church, VA.