A tribute to John Rowe

Originally published July 22, 2007, by the Asheville Citizen-Times under the headline "John Rowe was a great friend to families dealing with mental illness"

John's obituary can be read here.

By David Cornwell

I’m not really qualified to write a postscript to John Rowe’s life. I only knew John for several years, primarily as a fellow advocate through the Western Carolina affiliate of the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). Indeed, I envied his lifelong friend who gave the eulogy at John’s memorial service Sunday, who so eloquently captured his essence when he said that John was the kind of man everyone wanted to claim as a friend.

But having known John for such a short time perhaps helps underscore the ripples he and his wife, Florence, sent through our community, ripples you likely don’t even know touched you, ripples that have made Western North Carolina a bit more humane and compassionate place to live. Our region and our state have lost a great man and many area mental health advocates have lost a huge part of their soul.

John was an imposing figure. Small in stature, he had a demeanor that commanded respect. He had a ruggedly handsome face I always pictured belonging to a New England sea captain or a welterweight boxer, not to the Ohio educator he was – a teacher, counselor and administrator most of his career.

John had a gift for teaching, a gift he continued to share in retirement. He and his wife, Florence, were instrumental in building and leading NAMI’s Family-to-Family classes, classes for families of those with a mental illness, teaching family members how to cope, how to care for themselves, how to again have hope.

For many families, those classes were their first toeholds to step out of isolated, hellish existences. For many families, those classes were the first ray of light in the nightmare that had become their lives. For many, those classes literally helped hold their families together.

And while the words “tireless” and “selfless” are often used to the point of triteness, it is no exaggeration to say that John and Florence worked tirelessly and selflessly to improve the lives of those with a mental illness, their friends and families. They worked, and Florence continues to work, toward a better community, serving on numerous boards and committees, organizing and volunteering for many events related to mental health and other community interests.

John’s humor was almost as legendary as his allegiance to the Cleveland Indians. And as his friend said, John took as much pleasure in setting up his jokes as in the telling. Indeed, the first time I met John, he was stepping up to share a couple of jokes to start a NAMI meeting.

Humor was part and parcel of the diplomat John was. He used humor as a tool. He used it to lighten the mood before a committee or board met to discuss weighty issues affecting the quality of life of some of our region’s most vulnerable citizens.

His diplomacy served the community well. While other voices were louder, John’s voice was measured, consistent and respected. But John could be as frank as frank can be and had no problem asking the tough questions of officials. And on those occasions that John spoke with indignation, softly but firmly pounding the table for emphasis, you knew that here was a man concerned only with what was right and just. “Integrity” might well be defined as John Rowe.

Through the years of a relatively stable mental health system and the chaos of a system now gone mad, John and Florence have been constants. Though public indifference made it seem no one was listening, John and Florence spoke on. They were the glue that held many advocates together. And the loss of an advocate of John’s caliber is truly tragic. Certainly, there will not soon be another advocate with his dignity, humor, personableness and perseverance. For John understood that one person can make a difference, or as was the case with he and Florence, two people.

My wife and I count ourselves lucky to have been touched, encouraged, and inspired by the ripples started by John and Florence.

Perhaps this commentary is yet another ripple of John’s life. As one advocate said following his memorial service, the greatest honor anyone can give John’s legacy is to follow in his footsteps.

So I hope the ripple of these words reaches out and touches at least a few of you. It’s OK and good to mail a check to charity or put it in the collection plate each week. But find a cause to help make the world a better place and get involved. You can change the world. John Rowe helped teach me that.

David Cornwell is executive director of North Carolina Mental Hope, a nonprofit working to increase public awareness and support of mental health. He can be contacted at 654-8754 or david@ncmentalhope.org.