What is required for a man to be his mother’s son? Pray it is not the memory of birth, for neither she nor I can claim to recall the occasion. But I do remember the love of my mom, Alice Bryan, and I continue a quixotic endeavor to reconcile it. I have searched in vain for a cure to her Alzheimer’s, discovering instead the powerful defenses we can build ourselves as we wait for a cure to be found. I am engaged in a call to action of body, mind, and spirit to confront this horrible disease, and I hope you’ll join me.
I remember the love. I remember being alone on the ground next to my twisted bike and broken arm when she hoisted me up and carried me barefoot over scrubland to the safety of home. I remember when she suffered a near-severed big toe in a household accident while alone, yet somehow managed her sedan’s three-pedal manual transmission—blood pooling in the footwell—to pick up my brother and me from soccer practice before heading to the ER. She didn’t want a late pickup inducing fear. I remember being gutted by unrequited love when she met me with gentle wisdom, musing, “If she’s drawn to someone you wouldn’t want to be, you don’t want to be the one she chose.” Always providing steadfast strength, love, and advice, often when I was at my worst and deserved it the least.
Then her memory began to fade. We searched desperately for answers, joining countless others, believing that love and effort could somehow undo what was happening. In that search, I found something I never expected — not a cure, but the powerful defenses we can build while we wait for one. I call them the Triad of Life: engaging the body, mind, and spirit. Only later did I realize that the lessons that I was learning in the mountains, already followed the same Triad of Life that would one day help me better understand my mother’s disease.
I am a mountaineer. Growing up in Colorado, the Rockies were my playground. First it was camping and ski trips with my dad; later it was the deeper pull of climbing itself. Greta and I began exploring together, and over the years I’ve stood on peaks such as Denali, Aconcagua, Mont Blanc, and Carstensz Pyramid. What the mountains have always taught me is what dementia research now affirms: the Triad of Life isn’t just helpful — it’s essential. Climbing demands physical endurance, mental clarity in thin air, and a deep connection to a rope team — the very elements that help stave off dementia.
What better way to put those elements to the test than to depend on them completely — body, mind, and spirit — on the highest mountain on earth, all in the fight against Alzheimer’s? I’ve chosen to dedicate my next climb to raising awareness for this cause. In April 2026, I plan to climb the historic North Route of Everest, not only for the summit but to live the Triad of Life and inspire others to do the same. My ask is simple: strengthen your Triad — and honor those we love not just in memory, but in the way we choose to live. If you feel moved to help, your support of the Alzheimer’s Association would mean the world.
I joined the fight against Alzheimer’s by creating this fundraising page, and I’m raising money to support the care and research efforts of the Alzheimer’s Association. Thank you for walking alongside me in this effort.
