JONESWALKERWILEY AT AGE 4: HOW WE’VE KEPT IT TOGETHER

We have now passed the fourth anniversary of this enterprise. We began this blog July 7, 2016, with our introductory posting, “We are JonesWalkerWiley, and Here’s Why You Should Care.” During the ensuing four years, we’ve offered over 150 posts on a wide range of topics. It’s been fun and we’re just getting started.

People ask us occasionally how we’ve held this together. Why haven’t three headstrong lawyers, each with opinions on anything and everything, broken apart and gone their separate ways?  Leaving aside the fact we were friends before we started this and plan on keeping things that way after we’re done, we have identified reasons we’re still going strong. These ideas might even apply in other life circumstances.

Maximize strengths; minimize weaknesses – Let’s face it. Most people aren’t good at

everything they do. In group endeavors, it’s important that members identify the areas in which they can make significant contributions and those where someone else may offer more. So it is with this project. One of us excels at ideas, another at challenging conventional wisdom. Yet another has a facility for getting things on paper, so we always have something from which we can work as posting time approaches. Two of us contribute most by commenting on drafts, not composing original work. Sticking with our strengths and avoiding what we’re not as good at produces a better product and reduces tension.

Learn about saliency - We all take pride in what we do. Pride of authorship, however,

can prevent improving a post if the person who drafted a segment or revised a piece clings irrationally to the notion they’ve found the holy grail on that topic. So, we each pick our battles, going to the mat over things we really, really care about (high saliency) and backing off on things that aren’t as important (low saliency).

Remain rhetorically sensitive - Rhetorical sensitivity defines a person’s susceptibility to persuasion. Though some people pride themselves on never changing their minds, each of us will hear out and consider the ideas of our collaborators. Often, we each start with a firm idea of how the world should work on something we’re writing about, but discover later someone else has a better approach. We see the capacity for that as a strength. 

Know when to hold ‘em; know when to fold ‘em – This line from the late Kenny Rogers’s hit song The Gambler offers great

advice for working in groups. Sometimes, your view won’t carry the day because you don’t have the cards.  When you realize that’s the case, give it up and fight another day. We write a new piece almost every week. It’s impossible any one of us will have the best idea every time, whether the issue is what we should write about, what we should say, or how we should say it.

Concurring and dissenting opinions are welcome, but not simply for the sake of disagreement – If you’ve followed us for any part of these four years, you know we seek consensus in our posts. We try speaking with one voice. Usually we do that, showing that

with enough care and compromise we can find common ground on the most difficult issues. We work hard at letting our readers know what we think and why and we avoid telling others what they should think. Admittedly, we have similar political ideologies, but within that broad framework, we have disagreements that require smoothing out if we are to speak with that one voice. We acknowledge, for example, that Rob, though decidedly progressive, harbors conservative instincts that bring him into conflict with Woodson’s more aggressive liberalism (Henry often ends up in the middle, with a slight tilt in Woodson’s direction on many, though not all, issues). Sometimes we can’t work out a compromise, so we write separately, with each person expressing his considered opinion. That’s useful from time to time, but we prefer reaching consensus if we can.

Critique work, not workers – No one can keep a project like this going for four years if the critiques become personal. Revisions of, additions to, and subtractions from text must represent comments on the work, not personal attacks on the intelligence, intellect, or skill of whoever produced the work. Groups in which that occurs fail quickly. Every

suggestion one of us makes for improving a post represents a considered judgment that such a change will give our readers a better product. When critiques become personal, we probably should each find something else to do.

We have not enjoyed a seamless journey, always adhering to all we proclaim here. At times we have violated our own mandates. We have, however, recognized our failures, admitted them, and reset our commitment to a friendship and a project. 

We write what we write here hoping it provokes thought and educates the public.

Though we’re part-timers at this, we want our voices in the marketplace of ideas. We’re grateful for the readers who follow us and provide feedback on what we write (keep those comments coming, folks). The pleasure is all ours.

Losing Friends (Appreciating Relationships)

Henry Writes of Loss

As we age it seems the impact of losing friends hits like a sledgehammer. At least this is the reality

I face. Having lost three friends in the last few weeks led me to emotional lows I have rarely visited.  Incredibly joyous memories of these friends and of their disappearance from this world take me on a roller coaster ride of thought, vision, and faith.

One is a friend from birth with whom I shared experiences growing up, in school and through adult life. His view of the world was very different from mine and served as a check on any attempt by me not to see how the world can differ for the individual. We shared joys and disappointments without judgment. He had the best memory of any of our friends and could remind us all of those moments shared at seven or nine or twelve. He seemed to remember everything about our years as kids. It was natural that when I shared a memory of our childhood he was not surprised because he too remembered the moment.

                     

The second was a neighborhood friend.  We were separated by three houses and although he was a year older, I remember much about our days as kids. He was the self-proclaimed “concrete contractor” who construct-ed small roads between our neighborhood houses on which we rolled toy cars and trucks. We also made bows and arrows with arrows that disappeared into sky before falling back to earth. There were the nightly runs around the block and the daily baseball, football, and basketball games. He managed difficult health problems as an adult and left suddenly.

The third was a colleague on the bench and one of the most fun-filled people I've ever met.  We shared stories of our very different lives and after we both retired kept in touch. He loved Mexican food and we almost always communicated on Cinco de Mayo.  

                 

Each of these friends contributed immeasurably to the quality of life I have been privileged to enjoy and thus the loss is greater.

Although my spiritual universe provides a kind of comfort, my mind searches for more explicit explanation and I move in and out of competing visions. Loss, or being without, describes a condition and feelings so it brings much of our complex existence to the front of our consciousness.  When we are no longer able to relate to the physical incarnation of our friends this feeling of absence, for me, is unavoidable. But loss seems to be much more than this absence. At the zenith of this struggle my faith collides with doubt.

I do believe that these friends remain with me because I carry memories of them in an almost tangible sense. They are with me and those memories give me solace.

I find it difficult not to ask whether friends will carry memories of me.

As I write this and experience an avalanche of emotion filled with grief, I realize it may be time to express thankfulness and celebrate the joys of friendships remaining.  This is especially true because of the opportunities presented by an upcoming reunion of all classes from my high school.  There WE will be able to share our lifelong memories and celebrate those bonds having lasted a lifetime.  Of course, we will all grieve the loss of classmates over the years but the presence of those remaining will help remove the sting of loss.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reads, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” Perhaps these times are not as separate as we envision.  This, now, may be a time to remember, grieve and celebrate.  We can embrace our losses and celebrate memories and joys of present relationships. I don’t believe we lose the past by celebrating the present.  After all, these moments are precious.

THE WONDER OF FRIENDS: Friendships and Restoring Broken Relationships

Today we explore friendship, its dimensions, its value, its wonders. All three of us cherish one another’s friendship immensely and share enriching and enlightening friendships with numerous others. We begin with Henry’s remembrances of lifetime friendships.

Henry -- How marvelous are friends

Often, in the rat race of life, we forget friendships that extend to our early years and how they make life so much more than mere existence. As a kid, I promised myself I would remember a special time I wrote about much later:

We didn’t know

We would remember

We didn’t know

How special it was

We didn’t know

It was the best time ever

Not knowing the simplicity

Of thoughts forever

Not understanding the complexity

Of memories forever

Three kids sat on an old shed roof

Breathing the freshest air ever

Carrying a future that we never ---

Never caring of forever

I remembered this description in June 2017 as my train pulled slowly out of Washington’s Union Station, headed for New Haven, Connecticut with my 1963 Yale freshman roommate. Neither of us could contain our excitement about our 50^th year class reunion.

 

“Jones,” Mike asked, “what are the odds of two people meeting 50 plus years ago at the beginning of college, remaining friends, and traveling together like this now?”

“Not great,” I replied, leaning forward in my seat and looking over at him. “I’m not sure how we got here.”

His eyes widened and he spread his arms. “Even our wives have become close. And remember, there’s Norman and George and their wives.”

“It’s amazing,” I said. “And wonderful.”

George and Mike roomed together later. We all remained friends, convening from time to time for momentous occasions in our own lives and in the life of the world, as when we shared Barak Obama’s inauguration.

As my career – college at Yale, political work in Little Rock, law school at Michigan, clerkships in Little Rock and Duluth, practice and the bench in Little Rock – unfolded, Mike remained a constant presence. Neither his service in the Navy nor his work in New York and Washington broke the bond we formed beginning in 1963.

We also came to know each other through family. I stayed in touch with Mike through his dad. When I called to locate him, his father gave me his new number, saying, “You need to call that boy.” He understood our friendship and recognized the need we had to stay in touch. He knew we’d be there for each other.

Mike was with me the only time in my life I was ever intoxicated, as I reacted badly to the breakup with my fiancée. Years later, he was with me and my sister-in-law as my wife underwent surgery in Little Rock while I struggled to find a flight home.

Then there are friends from elementary and high school who’ve helped me remain connected with my formative years. We made special journeys together to celebrate one another’s achievements -- like the trips to change-of-command ceremonies for a classmate as he took charge of two naval vessels. Another special friend from high school informs us of the accomplishments and needs of our classmates, providing a link that keeps us greater than the sum of our parts.

The train ride helped me appreciate how continuing, caring relationships – friendships – can buoy and invigorate us as we deal with life. They represent real power. In fact, they keep things real.

Rob – Friends for all seasons    

I divide my life into eras – childhood, broadcasting, politics, law practice – as a way of reminding myself of what this journey has been like. In each part, there’ve been friends who defined the era and made it meaningful. Thinking of those friends makes me acknowledge I did very little alone. I should always give thanks for those who’ve been part of this trip.

 

I haven’t stayed in touch with all of them. Few people do that as well as Henry, and my circumstances differed. I grew up in many places, not one, as he did. Attending commuter colleges made developing friendships harder during that time. Still, in everything I’ve done, friends made the trip easier.

I’ve learned it’s never too late to form meaningful friendships. Some of my greatest pleasure now derives from time I spend playing golf with four sixty-and seventy-somethings I’ve bonded with in the last five years. Henry is right. Friendships buoy and invigorate us. They not only keep things real, they are real.

Woodson – Perhaps I can go home

I’ve devoted much of my adult life to making a living and less to making a life. I spent my time practicing law, engaging in politics, and otherwise advancing my career. I didn’t remain connected with important friends from childhood. But, I’ve now learned a different way.

During the most difficult time of my professional life, facing loss of a career and financial security, John, a childhood friend, offered, “You can always come home.”  Tyrone, another childhood friend, invited me to the Conway County NAACP’s Frank W. Smith Freedom Fund Banquet as guest speaker. There, grade school and high school friends – a basketball teammate, two puppy loves -- enveloped me.

John’s willingness to reach out during that difficult time, Tyrone’s invitation to speak at the banquet, and the reception I received told me one can “come home.” Like too many things in life, with friends there’s usually no do-over.  Friends, though, can make it feel so. I have friendships from college, law school, and my professional years I want to reinvigorate. I’m going to work on it, one at a time.