But as it happened, Joe was an ideal mentor, and I will forever be grateful for the opportunity to be part of his team. I was in the trenches with Joe in one of his greatest fights: expanding K-12 options for low-income D.C. students. Because of Joe, I was part of a history-making program that has opened doors for thousands. And after a difficult patch when the program nearly shut down, it was re-created and now helps nearly 1,500 students. I am so happy that Joe got to be part of its rebirth.
Joe was my mentor in not just this fight but in all that is D.C. politics and policy. He taught me that one creates victories by bringing together unlikely partners, by being strategic but also blunt and, most important, by being real.
He grabbed ahold of challenges and crusaded, and he gave of himself in every way imaginable.
Yes, he was exceedingly generous with his money but, more important, he was generous with his mind, his creativity and his 24/7 dedication. Joe was not an arms-length advocate. He always wanted to meet the families who sought scholarships for their children. He invited them into his home. His advocacy was based on their words and stories. And he invited the students into his home and work, into policy and business arenas where they could speak about their educations. He wanted to be, and was, a part of it all, inspired by the students, just as they were by him.
Those who knew Joe describe him the same way: larger than life. Tenacious fighter (a boxer, literally and figuratively). A keen, energetic and unstoppable mind. Shrewd and brilliant businessman. Entrepreneur extraordinaire.
Joe didn’t graduate from college. He was kicked out of high school numerous times before graduating. He was self-made and gritty in spirit. He was a real straight shooter with an ability to see a compromise amid warring factions. Showing people the path to compromise was his magic and his legacy.
Joe would have no problem asking wealthy policy-makers: Why shouldn’t D.C. students have options for their schools? You have options. Why do you get to choose where your child goes to school, but a parent who lives in Northeast has to send her child to a school that she’s afraid to walk through the doors of? He’d call out hypocrites, dodgers and cowards. He was none of those things and had no tolerance for them.
But he also advised me when it was time to stop fighting. He said that some people are in it just for the battle, that they’ll get in the quicksand with you and drag you down, and they don’t even know what their goal is. That wasn’t Joe. He was in it because he cared about the goal, and fighting was sometimes necessary to achieve it.
That Joe Robert met an unwinnable battle at age 59 speaks only to the perniciousness of the brain cancer that took his life this week. Even a few weeks ago, he was determined to keep battling. And yet there’s no way to sugarcoat this: Glioblastoma won. Joe lost. And we all lost with him.
To Joe’s sons, Joseph III and Luke, I’d like to say that my father died of cancer at 63, which was also far too young. But there are ways I keep my father alive. For many, Joe’s legacy will endure because he created programs and institutions that will flourish. But you will keep Joe alive through your memories of him as a father and because I expect that every day you will summon that strong face of your dad’s, that gentle grin, and ask yourself, What would Dad do in this situation? What would he say? In inviting his advice, even though he is no longer next to you, you keep Joe alive for yourselves and all of us.
The writer, chief operating officer of USAgainstAlzheimer’s, worked with Joe Robert Jr. at Washington Scholarship Fund and DC Children First.
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