Joe Causey

Joe Causey's flying fingers are taking a rest now. It is incredible what an impact he has had in his life, with his quick mind channeled through the keyboards of typewriters, newspaper composition machines, computers and pianos, not to mention the fingerboard of a violin. He’s using his time to fight cancer now, but he has always made the most of his time and has been sure to “fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run." 

Joe is a man of many contradictions—extroverted, loving family, friends and colleagues; yet forever spending long hours in solitary work—getting out the statements for his family business, practicing for a piano concert, teaching himself to play violin, writing long letters of inquiry and advice to public "servants," knowing that he would only get back their form-letter responses.

Observing Joe over the years, watching him work and play, suggests how his rapid-fire wit could be so seamlessly translated through his fingers to the keys with such accuracy and clarity. Practice and training and discipline for sure, but also a pure connection "between the impulse and the act." Joe is direct, honest and unsparing of himself and others. He always says what he thinks. He does not beat around the bush. He does not sugar-coat. He does not pull his punches. What you see is what you get. Joe is one of those rare people, particularly for a Southerner, who doesn't dissemble. Oddly enough, to those of us who tiptoe around confrontations, Joe is all that much more beloved because you don’t have to wonder what he really thinks about you. You know exactly where he stands, even if his stance makes you uncomfortable. You can be at ease around Joe and not wonder what he really thinks about you, because if he thinks you are an idiot, he will have already told you, though in the most sympathetic way possible and with suggestions about how you can be less of an idiot if you want to change.

Joe is not a “shoulda, woulda, coulda” kind of guy. His love is active. His regard for you translates into thinking about how he can help you and then doing it. If your ox is in the ditch, Joe won’t be calling you up to say how sorry he is; he’ll be down there hooking a rope to his midnight blue Mustang convertible to yank that beast out of there.

Joe is always ready to play, to have a good time, because he has already done his work; his responsibilities come first, and, being Joe, he doesn’t put off doing what he needs to do. So, when it comes time to have fun, Joe can throw himself into pleasure just as single-mindedly as he throws himself into work. He’s not dragging along a lot of unfinished stuff that is going to interfere with a good time, because he didn’t let anything interfere with getting that stuff done when it was supposed to be done. Why can’t we all be like Joe?

Sounds like the Tao of Joe, and it is: a zen-like purity that flows from a mind accustomed to accepting life as it comes and holding up his end of it, rough-hewn though it may be: serving his country, running the store, the constant care of a special-needs son, helping parents, settling the affairs of elderly relatives, and now the crisis of his own health—a cruel blow to one who loves so much his life and the family and friends who populate it. It is especially cruel, because he has finally reached the point where he could do more traveling and visiting and enjoying the fruits of his hard work and prudent management.

We love Joe. His wit and warmth live among us and always will, as long as we can remember his zany antics and his fierce love for us and for our world.