I first met James L. Framo, PhD, when I interviewed for a faculty
position at United States International University (now Alliant
International University). Jim was a Distinguished Professor of Marriage
and Family Therapy (MFT), and I was a very green almost-PhD. I was awed
and nervous to interview with this family therapy founder. How would he
treat me, given that I was such a new professor wannabe? Would he quiz
me on his work? I did not know, but I was not taking chances and
carefully read up on his approach. In the interview, there were no
quizzes, just warmth and humanity. The interest, respect, and kindness
he showed me that day have always stayed with me. Later I came to
understand that his kind, supportive manner was the same treatment he
would always give me, and the way he treated hundreds of new
professionals and students over the course of his career.
When I got the position and moved to San Diego, Jim would regularly
come by my office with a smile and a warm "Hello, my friend, how are
you?" followed with an invitation to stop by his office for a "chat." In
those chats he was genuinely interested in learning about my background,
my family, and my views on the field. I, of course, was very interested
in his views, and he willingly shared.
One of his favorite topics was how the field got started and how it
has evolved. Jim had a wall of pictures in his office of early family
therapy pioneers, and we would talk about who they were and how they
contributed to the field. He particularly liked to point to a fading
picture of the group that founded the American Family Therapy Academy (AFTA),
and to talk about the hopes and dreams and plans of those who made AFTA
a reality. Although by the time I knew him, he was frustrated by the
changing direction of AFTA, he clearly had great pleasure in recalling
his role in helping to found the organization and his service as its
second president.
Another historical topic that seemed to bring him great pleasure was
the 1967 family therapy research conference that he chaired where Bowen
gave his famous "anonymous" talk (1972). Recalling that conference led
to fascinating conversations about some of his important early works
such as My Families, My Family (1968), and Symptoms from a Family
Transaction Viewpoint (1970), classics in the field. When he talked
about developing his family of origin approach, true to his honesty and
personal openness, he told me about how he had set up a time with his
own father to work out old issues, and then got the call that his father
had died before the appointed visit. He would say, "So it is no wonder
why I have spent my career helping families get together and resolve old
issues while people are still alive."
Jim loved to talk about politics, movies (he was an avid movie buff),
and, toward the end of his life, World War II. He served in the army,
fought his way up the coast of Italy, and was one of the first U.S.
solders to go into Rome. Jim was in combat for over 400 days in the
Italian campaign and was finally wounded a few weeks before the end of
the war in Italy. He would often say, "When I retire, I want to read
books about WWII." At the time of his passing, he had read many of those
books and was working on his own war memoir. He entitled it "The Madness
of War." He was proud to have helped defend the U.S. and defeat fascism,
but was also very honest about the evils and horrors of war.
As his health started failing, it became increasingly difficult for
him to come to the university to teach. Because of his health, he
considered not teaching his final course on Intergenerational Family
Therapy, but when he learned that he had a group of dedicated students
who were looking forward to him teaching, he agreed to coteach the
course with his wife, Felise Levine, and hold it in the living room of
their home. From time to time, I checked in with the students that
quarter to see how it was going. They reported being humbled to be in
their home, thrilled about having Dr. Framo teach them, and excited
about the passionate way in which they taught and the power of his
approach.
The last time I talked with Jim was less than 2 weeks before his
death. I told him about our program's new Commission on Accreditation
for Marriage and Family Therapy Education accreditation, and he was
delighted and full of compliments and praise. I invited him to speak at
an international family therapy conference, and he thanked me for the
invitation, but said his health was not good and he was enjoying being
retired too much. However, he then said, "But perhaps I could help out
by attending and being on an informal panel or something." He was deeply
committed to seeing MFT succeed as a field, and he wanted to contribute
in any way he could. He ended the conversation by inviting me to his
home for another chat about WWII and the field of MFT. |