I've always said that my Uncle Lou was the most brilliant person I've ever known. I can't imagine that anything will ever change that fact. I remember having conversations with him as a teenager, being amazed that he was actually interested in talking to me, and feeling like there could never be a more interesting person with whom to spend time. He could start a conversation, challenge me to an argument, and eventually bring me back full circle, only to realize that I was now arguing the other side. The best part was that he did this, not to make himself feel superior, but to help me learn that I could see all sides of the argument if I really tried. He challenged me to be a better, more involved person, while never implying even a hint of judgement. Our family, and the entire world have lost a giant presence, but his spirit will certainly live on in all of us who loved him.

My sincere condolences to Lou Hammann's wife Patricia and his family.

Thank you for posting Dr. Hammann' obituary. I wept when I read it at our NYC kitchen table with my husband. I believe Dr. Hammann managed to open a very young 18-year-old's mind and shaped my evolution as a person with a very curious mind, highly alert to activist concerns and cross-cultural challenges and riches.

I can see from reading this touching bio, that Dr. Hammann had a significant impact on how my life has unfolded. I believe I was the lone Gettysburgian who attended U. Penn in my senior year ('68-'69) as a participant in the South Asia Consortium program, studying languages of India and cross-cultural religions, while completing my German/Spanish focus at G'burg. My own parents did not have privilege of even high school education, yet thanks to what I call the tenacity and gems of my own "peasant" background, and the fortuitous opportunity to have my path cross with Gettysburg's dedicated instructors, such as Professor Hammann, I went on to earn an MA at Penn in South Asian Studies, spent '70-71 in India as a language fellow and student of classical Indian Dance (lest my mind outrun my body!), earned an M.Ed in Dance at Temple U., moved to NYC, earned a NYS license to practice massage and body-work, studied with bodywork masters Milton Trager and Ohashi, married Aron, a kind and loving Jewish man, cared for our elders, and returned to India in my 56th year to adopt an older girl-child. Our adoptive daughter Pooja is now expecting her second girl-child, her Bangladeshi husband just earned U.S. Citizenship, and they expect to have an Imam teach their children the Quran and some Arabic. It doesn't matter to me how one names G_d . . . Allah, Adonai, or, dear to my own heart, Jesus. I have favored my husband's tradition and my own, and the music of both sustained me during the hard times and in particular during the care-giving years. Two traditional churches and two synagogues provided music enrichment along with loving companions during the care-giving years. And to this day I attend multiple houses of worship. Choral singing (as I did in Gettysburg's Chapel Choir) has continued to uplift me. And, of course since G_d likes to show up in unexpected places, I keep a picture on my desk of Mary, the dear crossing-guard who served near my mother's apartment and kindly educated my heart ("Your Mama's lonely . . .") when things started shifting, so I could re-orient with some grace.

We called it the "hard privilege." I don't know how Professor Hammann's last years were, but I do believe he prepared me to enter that land also with curiosity and an open mind. Perhaps my most significant higher education came during six years of care-giving my beloved mother, during which time I learned some other ways to label "dementia" . . . such as "living in the land where the mystics dwell," or the place where heaven and earth have begun to separate. My attention was drawn to mining for gems in the challenging territory of elder care-giving, and I decided to rename dementia "multi-dimensional." "They" dwell in multiple dimensions, "we" in one primarily. We cannot enter all of their dimensions, and they seem unable to fully dwell in ours. Our family enjoyed some easy years after my mother's passing and Pooja's Jewish grandmother ("Savta") enjoyed having a local grandchild. Because she understood and valued self-care, the care-giving period for beloved Savta was much shortened.

These days my focus is on Self-Care, having become all too aware of the cost to well-meaning care-givers who lose track of self-care. The formal learning continues . . . a program in geriatric care management, a Zen contemplative care program, volunteer opportunities for those who have no budget or family for late-in-life care. Coaching and being coached by elder friends (my two best are 92 and 100 and still going strong!) and on and on. Polyvagal Theory is a great place to enter the conversation for those interested. I enjoy expanding my own awareness and opening minds, as Professor Hammann did mine, to the subtle wisdom our bodies offer. May we all become increasingly compassionate with ourselves and one another as we learn to attend to ourselves and one another!

I will close with a word of gratitude to Professor Louis Hammann's family for taking time to share his touching bio by way of Caring Bridge. I am so thankful that despite operating "in the dark" we decided on Gettysburg College, where I met and learned from kindly professors who cared about the shaping of a mind and heart and helped to illuminate my path. One suggestion that stays with me, and it could well have come from Dr. Hammann, on the subject of being an iconoclast. "Don't break down a belief or system unless you are prepared to put something in its place." I think that may be at the heart of compassion, grasping to some extent how precious to each of us are the things that have held us up until we have been able to look at them and consider whether to keep in the foreground or replace with a worthy alternative.

Thank you again, dear Hammann family for your kindness in posting Dr. Hammann's inspiring bio and giving me pause for reflection.

Sincerely,
Dorothy Krauss-Eisenpress
Class of 1969

To anyone reading this, his family is hoping to get the recordings of his last class onto the web on Youtube. Stay tuned.

For 50 years, Lou Hammann helped heal the hole in my heart after the loss of my father when I was seven. I saw him last August fifty years to the week from when I enrolled in his Religion in Fiction course the fall of my freshman year. He valued my perspective, paid attention, stimulated my intellect, inspired me to become a clearer thinker, a better writer, and a scholar who could ask interesting, important questions. I took 9 classes with Lou and came to know the family because I attended Fairfield Mennonite Church for four years. Lou and I worked side-by-side one summer at a local orchard. Patricia and Lou became the greatest of blessings: family I chose (rather than the one I was born into) and these two marvelous humans chose me back . At my wedding he said, "the keys to marriage are negotiations and decisions." I never lived in Pennsylvania again but I stayed at their home probably twenty times over the decades. Lou visited me in New Hampshire, Chicago, and Jacksonville. I became a Professor of English and he was my biggest supporter through it all. He helped me prepare for graduate school--teaching me Latin with cassette tapes ( decades before distance learning became a phenomenon). He read my dissertation and kept up with my scholarship over the decades. We protested together at the Supreme Court in January 2000. At my retirement party (after only 36 years) former students told me I offered them a kind of radical respect in that I cared for each of them as people. I learned the power and the value of that from Lou Hammann. Lou Hammann was one of the wisest, most socially conscious, kindest humans I have known. He has been the greatest of blessings.

I read the other comments before starting to write this and was struck by the common theme that I was already feeling myself. Lou had a "profound impact" on their lives as he did on mine. Being my uncle I've known him all my life. He's truly been one of my life's greatest blessings. Scholar, writer, orator, preacher, marriage officiant, coach, father, son, husband, teacher, inquisitor, philosopher, deep thinker, environmental champion, political activist, and so much more, all these things he did with diligence and passion. He was a man who walked the talk. The ways he influenced my life are far too numerous to mention. I'll just touch on a few. He married both my parents and my husband and I. He taught us that love is a choice, not something passive that just happens to us, and the longevity of our marriages is a testament to his teaching. He and my father, who died at a very young age, were kindred spirits and Uncle Lou's memories of my father provided me insight I treasured. As a child in the 60's it was always exciting to visit my country cousins. Swimming in the pond, walking through the orchards, playing with my creative and imaginative cousins, and lively dinnertime conversation are such vivid memories. Uncle Lou was not fond of the television. Long before we knew what we know now, he boldly stated one evening at the table that while we think we are watching the TV, it is actually watching us. It was a rather startling and perhaps even outlandish thought for an adolescent to ponder. 50+ years later I am still struck by how right he was. But then, he was right about most things. To be truthful, in my eyes, he was right about everything! Every visit with him brought some new revelation, some new realization. He had the ability to challenge my knowledge and provoke my thought processes and inspire me in ways no other could. He also made me feel loved, respected, and esteemed whether I was 9, 39, or 59. A world without Lou Hammann is truly less bright but the light of all those he touched radiates more brightly for having known him. He is greatly missed.

Every one should have a Lou HAMMANN in their life. Unfortunately, they are few and far between. Coach HAMMANN came into my life when I needed him most. I was a 18 year old boy away from home for the first time. He became my coach, mentor and friend initially on the soccer field where he allowed it to be fun. Not every coach understands the importance of that.
I also took a World Religions course that he taught that became my favorite course at Gettysburg.
All this took place more than 55 years ago, but I have felt his influence every day. I’m thankful that I got to know such a special man

What a great man.....I took his religion class and my religious IQ went up tremendously. Can't thank him enough for his contributions to Gettysburg College. Mick McGrogan Class of 1971

Dr. Hammann's "Center to Fringe" course introduced me to what he knew would become a raging debate among academics in the American Academy of Religion--theology or religious studies? Dr. Hammann knew that opening the academic field to religious studies brought diversity, energy, and intellectual integrity. He started me on my path to a PhD in religious studies (religion and literature), gave me a model for how to be a teacher, and set an example for how to approach life in all stages as an engaged citizen but especially in his later years when he planted trees under whose shade he would never sit. He is also to be credited with creating a Festschrift for Professor Norman, Doc, Richardson on the occasion of his retirement in 1979, a great act of love, respect, and collegiality. When I think of Dr. Hammann, I think of the miracle of loaves and fishes--how he created miracles in the classroom that continue to nourish us. Rest in Power and Peace.

There are few people you encounter who have a profound impact on ones thinking and beliefs. Dr. Hammann was one of those who did. His teaching was one of opening up one's mind to alternatives, differing views, not judgmental but thought provoking. Seems an anachronism today. Bless him.

Lou was emeritus by the time I arrived at Gettysburg, but still a fixture on campus in 2001. I first met him when I took his philosophy of religion class. A year later he ended up advising my senior thesis on faith in public discourse. He had me reading everything from Aquinas in Latin (though I hadn't taken it since high school) to Wittgenstein, but the best part of the experience was our weekly coffee. We'd spend as much time taking about family and life as my project, and I came to truly cherish his friendship. He was a big part of my inspiration to get my PhD in Philosophy, and, of course, he kept tabs on me along the way. I always looked forward to the Christmas letter and the handwritten note encouraging me to send my dissertation in progress that was often scribbled on it. The last time I saw him, we met up in Thurmont for lunch and a long conversation after I'd spent a semester teaching at Gettysburg. A bit like coming full circle. I'll truly miss him, and will always cherish the time spent with him and the life lessons learned.