We were friends because we were both attorneys and had young sons. He clearly loved his son, Josh, very much and wanted our sons to be friends.

The last time I saw Jon was two years ago, and we had dinner with our spouses and children at the Rainforest Cafe at Fisherman’s Wharf.

Since he passed away so suddenly, I did not have an opportunity to say goodbye.

Even though he is no longer with us, whenever I see Josh, I will remember Jon and will make every effort to fulfill his wish that our sons be friends.

I have been out of the country…without electricity…and one of the first missives on reconnecting was hearing about Jon. It is so sad. He brilliance and his keen understanding of what our world and our politics require is desperately needed just now.

I got to know Jon a few years ago when both Charlie Peters and Phil Keisling said I should meet him as I was thinking about writing a book on religion and politics. They both described him as the \"purest heart\". We talked and he generously invited me to be a writer in residence the summer of 2004 in Point Reyes. He was marvelous. He read a paragraph I wrote and instinctually said…\"that is a get upa take a walk line…get rid of it!! I did!!

We took lovely walks in the woods…where he knew the trails well and was a tireless hiker. During our treks, we discussed his work, his dreams and his love for his family. He was determined to shift the course America was on. We met just after the Swift Boat ads…and he was incensed that the Kerry campaign was not fighting back immmediately. He got it. He knew that we were in a battle for our nation\’s soul.

I feel such a loss. Our world surely is diminshed by his passing.

Fortunately
his writing is timeless and when we wish for inspiration or a quick comeuuppance from our lassitude…we can always read Jon.

I have been out of the country…without electricity…and one of the first missives on reconnecting was hearing about Jon. It is so sad. He brilliance and his keen understanding of what our world and our politics require is desperately needed just now.

I got to know Jon a few years ago when both Charlie Peters and Phil Keisling said I should meet him as I was thinking about writing a book on religion and politics. They both described him as the “purest heart”. We talked and he generously invited me to be a writer in residence the summer of 2004 in Point Reyes. He was marvelous. He read a paragraph I wrote and instinctually said…”that is a get upa take a walk line…get rid of it!! I did!!

We took lovely walks in the woods…where he knew the trails well and was a tireless hiker. During our treks, we discussed his work, his dreams and his love for his family. He was determined to shift the course America was on. We met just after the Swift Boat ads…and he was incensed that the Kerry campaign was not fighting back immmediately. He got it. He knew that we were in a battle for our nation’s soul.

I feel such a loss. Our world surely is diminshed by his passing.

Fortunately
his writing is timeless and when we wish for inspiration or a quick comeuuppance from our lassitude…we can always read Jon.

I am writing to share with you just a few of the many wonderful things I know about your dad.

I met your dad a long time ago when he was writing for a magazine. He wanted to do a story about the time bank, a community project I run. Over the years, I had worked with many journalists. Most of the time, they called you and expected you to drop everything and meet their needs. From the first minute I spoke with your dad I realized he was different than the others. He was not demanding but rather gently inquired when would be a good time to meet some of the people in the community working on this project. He was patient and willing to wait for a time that was good for us.

I set up an appointment for him to meet Herbie, a man in his mid 70s who, like your dad, was also quiet but made such a difference for his community. I was shocked to hear that he spent hours with Herbie wanting to really get to know him, beyond the obvious.

When I called your dad to hear how the meeting went, he told me he really connected with Herbie and the two of them were going to have dinner the next evening. I was in shock. What journalist does the required interview and then makes such a strong connection with the person that he invites him out to dinner? Your dad wrote a beautiful article about Herbie and the good work he did for others. It was unlike any other article I had seen.

This is just one small example of how special your dad was. I decided then that this was a man worth knowing. We kept in touch over the years and he wrote a few other stories about our project, each more brilliant than the next. He fell in love with the people and they fell in love with him.

While we didn’t live close enough to each other to get together regularly, it was always a treat to see your dad and mom when they came to New York and I was thrilled to finally meet the famous Joshua (even though you probably don’t remember me). Just a few months ago, I had the pleasure of being interviewed by him on his radio show (I also enjoyed hearing your voice on his recent show). He always asked such thoughtful questions and was one of the best listeners I ever met.

Your dad was one of the smartest people I know, but not just book smart…he had remarkable ability to understand people and how they lived. He could tell a story like no other. He wrote simply yet brilliantly.

Your dad was passionate about many things– his writing, building strong communities, equality, the environment and so much more. But he was most passionate about his family. Joshua- he was so very proud of you. I could picture a big smile on his face when he talked to me on the phone about your latest interest or accomplishment. He treasured the private time you spent together, walking to school, your pre-bedtime chats and reading.

Many years ago, he told me there was construction going on near your house and you were excited to watch it. He told me the two of you spent hours researching different types of construction vehicles on the internet. Your dad had a passion for learning and particularly enjoyed learning things together with you. From the minute you were born your dad’s life changed. It was love at first sight and I had never heard him so happy and proud.

Everyone misses your dad. You probably miss him the most. I hope you know that he was your champion and wanted only the best for you. I know that he will always be a part of you.

Fondly,
Mashi

Jonathan Rowe interviewed on his own show about one month ago.

http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/archives/individual/2011_03/028634.php

http://onthecommons.org/jonathan-rowe-1946-2011

http://whowhatwhy.com/2011/03/25/notes-on-jon-rowe-2/

Jonathan Rowe

We met after I spoke at an event commemorating the work of Nader’s Raiders. Jonathan had written a piece in the Christian Science Monitor which captured much of the spirit and vision that underlay TimeBanking. I was struggling to write a book about Time Banking –but it could not come alive without the stories and I did not know how to weave stories. Jonathan Rowe was a master of story-teller. TimeBanking lives in those stories so I sought out Jonathan Rowe in hopes that somehow he could help. Those were difficult days for me because cancer had just taken my wife Jean. She wanted the book written. Jonathan Rowe enabled me to deliver on that commitment.

We worked together, day, night and weekends on the Time Dollars book and Jonathan always brought something new and different to the endeavor: quirky knowledge of history, literature, and politics that combined erudition with humor. TimeBanking lives in the stories and Jonathan knew how to capture the essence of a story. We had very different ways of approaching the writing. I thought like a lawyer constructing a compelling logical argument, proposition by proposition. Jonathan was trained as a lawyer – but that was not how he thought or functioned.

The difference for me was captured by an analogy. If there was a hill to be climbed, I would plot the path and proceed. Jonathan would meander . He would seem to wander off the path and check out every wild flower, touch it, smell it, capture its scent. We would end up at the same destination – but somehow, every time, his wanderings brought new meaning and new dimensions to whatever logical pathway I had plotted. Jonathan did more than just wandering off the path. It seemed to me that he would stop and actually inhale the scent of those flowers, know their inner life and treasure their presence in a special way that sometime drove me crazy until I learned to recognize a different kind of wisdom.

That’s how Jonathan was as a writer. He did not just interview people. He did not just capture their stories. He related to them as human beings – with love and caring. The time he spent with them was actually in relation with them fully as beings. There was nothing instrumental about his interactions. He did not “use” people; he created a shared space with them and when he interviewed a person, he could listen in a way that infused their words, their thoughts, their feelings with deeper meaning. He could even do that with what they did not say and with their silence because Jonathan understood silence as a form of communication.

Writing the book, Time Dollars, together meant that we discussed economics and politics and psychology and just about everything else. Sometimes I found myself asking: “Is this guy a closet reactionary because he seemed to be coming from a time and place that had nothing to do with the world of Great Society programs and civil rights. He knew the world of politics intimately – from his time on the hill and his time with Ralph Nader. But his moral energy was not about laws or government spending, entitlements or legal battles. The commons and all they stood for provided his real emotional and moral center. The commons functioned for Jonathan as a kind of moral oasis that he brought to every undertaking. Intellectually, philosophically, ethically it provided a centering process that gave Jonathan perspective that led to his unrelenting challenge to market values and GDP and money as the be-all and end-all. I remember how that awareness expressed itself time and again in different pieces he wrote. I remember the first time it came out when we were writing and he proposed as the caption for one chapter: “How Things We Did Became Things We Buy.” Jonathan always knew what really mattered – and his ability to convey that with gentle but devastating clarity was one of his greatest gifts.

His article in the Atlantic Monthly, his work on Redefining Progress, his commitment to the Commons as a central intellectual and legal concept are all part of his legacy. But equally, part of that legacy is the quality of love and caring he brought to relationships. I listened to his interview for America Off Line. Throughout the interview, he would turn to Josh and ask him what he thought. Jonathan’s pride, the intensity of his love and devotion were unqualified – all the more so when he added in that interview that he had earlier been reluctant to have a child. And how Josh had changed that – and changed him. His closing words radiated with a joyous affirmation: that Josh was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

When I heard his statement in that last interview, a distinction came to mind that I had read about the difference between economics and happiness. The author observed: economics works on the principle of optimization. You optimize the return on every transactions. Happiness works on the principle of commitment. Happiness is about relationships. For Jonathan Rowe, life was about Commitment. The commons was about commitment. And his love for Josh and Marie Jean was about commitment.

We all have lost the presence of a great spirit, a remarkable mind, a truth teller, and a poet. But no one can take from us the wisdom, the sharing, the stories and the vision of a world that cannot be owned and a trust that must be continuously reaffirmed. That commitment lives on in Jonathan Rowe’s words, in the loving relationships he created and nurtured, and in the possibilities he helped create.