The Laughing Wolf

Thinking Of J.J.

Have you ever met someone, and had them remind you strongly of someone else even when they were not truly alike? I had that interesting experience this weekend while yet again out of state for a function.

The gentleman in question seemed to be a nice person, had a good singing voice, and had a bit of a nice sense of humor. Yet, I had a hard time seeing him because he reminded me for some reason of my friend J.J. This person was taller, and there were no striking similarities unless it was a bit of stockiness. There was something about the eyes, however, that just yelled J.J. at me.

J.J. was one of those special people you read about and so rarely meet. At conventions, around town when we lived in the same place, and whenever he met up with a friend, you heard “How are you doing?!” With him, it was no mere polite nothing, it was a serious question that you would spend five minutes or five hours answering, for he honestly wanted to know.

The sense of humor was great, and conversations with J.J. tended to be filled with laughter, because even the worst situation had some bit of humor in it that he would bring out. He was truly the ambassador of the bright side, and his keen mind was also great at figuring out how to deal with any situation in the best manner possible. Not merely the best in terms of ease, but in terms of long-term planning and on, for lack of a better word, the moral plane as well.

I have no idea how often J.J. went to church, or even really what church he belong to, but to know J.J. was to appreciate someone who was truly good. There is still out there somewhere a tape that embarrassed him in many ways, and delighted him no end, that shows him as a faustian satan, and he was perfect in the role. We all had fun teasing him about it, because it was so against type.

If the cause was just, you could bet on finding him there. He was a tireless advocate for judging people as individuals, of combating racism, and of combating sexism. Not surprising in some ways, as he had caught both sides of the coin. He was black, in the South, and I am sure caught some things from whites. Some of the worst racism he experienced, however, came from blacks. His father was a lawyer of note, nationally, and there was a great deal of “reverse” racism because his father was light enough to pass for white in some quarters. J.J. was not, but he still got called names for having a “white” father. The result was he hated racism in any form and fought it with a passion.

He shrugged a lot of stuff off, and did what he could to make things better for all. In his profession he had gained an national reputation for videography. When people like Jesse Jackson, in the days before the curtain had been pulled back on that creature, came to town they contacted J.J. about videography. He was great, and taught me a quick trick or two.

As with most such tales, his was a life that ended far too soon. There was a string of robberies in the area where he lived, with a female pretending to be in distress, getting a lone male to stop to render assistance, and then being set upon by henchmen who were hiding nearby. They would make the people strip, steal their money and wallets, and then steal their car. Most people, being naked, would cower or run.

J.J. was not most people. If they had truly needed help, all they would have had to do was ask and they would have gotten the shirt of his back. Instead, they used force and stole. J.J. was a true White Knight and a warrior, but luck went against him that night. One of them had a club or something that caught him just right on the head in the several-on-one scuffle, and he died a few days later of the resulting brain injury.

They caught the woman, who as far as I know never did give up her accomplices. Rumor also had it that she was so strung out that the DTs and such did not start for more than a week after her capture. I worked to keep her in prison when she first came up for parole, for she never did express any regret, remorse, or show any signs of positive growth. I never did hear when she came back up for a new hearing, though I was supposed to have been notified.

One thing J.J. and I did agree on was that people could grow, change, become better, and make up for past mistakes, no matter how horrible. Having survived the robberies and murder of my friend, had this creature ever shown such an effort, I would have had no problems with her getting a second chance, for that is what J.J. would have wanted. Since she did not make even a token effort of which I was aware, they could have fried her for all I cared. She had the second chance, the opportunity denied others, and did not take it.

His funeral was good, and he got in a couple more parting shots leavened with a sense of humor. I had a hard time not laughing aloud in delight when a piper played. The crowd, white and black, all jumped. J.J. would have loved it.

My gentle friend, I do miss you and I wish you had taken my advice to be more careful, to be armed, and all that stuff we cheerfully argued about. You did a lot of good, and I have seen some of the seeds you planted sprout. Enjoy where you are, and don’t laugh at us too much.

I’ve got it. I don’t know if it really is true, not really being able to get to know this person this weekend, but I think I see it now. The man this weekend struck me as a bit of a teddy bear. That and the eyes are what brought J.J. to mind. My thanks to you and fate for so doing, so that I can share J.J. once again with the wider world.

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