This page is dedicated to the memory of Lyman Morgan Jones the V

Lyman Morgan Jones V, or "Cinco", as his grandfather, Lyman III, christened him, shuffled off this mortal coil early on Sunday, October 11, 2015, at a time and place of his own choosing and after 15 years of continued optimistic existence in a body steadily reduced in capability by ALS.

San Antonio, Austin, Lander, Mulegé, Oroville, Missoula, Waialua ... and countless deserts and mountains and beaches and ice flows and unpaved trails and verdant forests ... Lyman did not live an ordinary life tied to one spot on the Earth's crust, and he did not find it useful to follow anyone else's rules. Instead he consulted his inner compass to discover what was absolutely right and true and once the truth was clear to him, he acted with the courage of his convictions without regard to any chorus of objections or the cost to himself.

It might have seemed to the uninitiated that Lyman didn't care what others thought, but that was not the case at all. In fact he was confident it was his job to help each of the souls he encountered along his journey to think more clearly about what was most important and to choose the more enlightened path. And so he did ... And so, because he never gave up on any of us, eventually, we did.

Lyman didn't value money. Instead he reminded us to value each other. He had few material possessions, but he was so much richer than any baron of West Texas oil or Wall Street wealth. His constant currency was love ... and he got as much as he gave.

Lyman had a couple of paintings of Jesus and a dozen rosaries among the many souvenirs of the life of an outdoorsman that decorated his room, but he didn't go to church and he waived off the priests and chaplains who offered to visit near the end. He had a Bible and some Buddhist books among his eclectic collection of poems and literature ... and he kept his spare cash in a copy of the Koran. Mostly he was our own, personal Buddha.

It would not honor this unusual being to waste time recounting and reciting the dusty details and dates of his formal accomplishments on this planet. If you knew Lyman, you're already familiar with these facts and figures and much more important, you have your own noteworthy stories of the powerful ways he shook up your definition of the meaning of life. And if you knew Lyman, you've met more than a few of his family and friends, because he always reveled in connecting us to one another. So no doubt you've heard the sometimes shocking, usually side-splitting, and almost always touching myth-like tales the rest of us have shared with you time and again.

And if you didn't know Lyman, well, then it probably doesn't matter anyway ...

Lyman's best friend, Paul Bonner (one of the many men, women, and children to claim this title), summed up his long-time friendship with Lyman this way:

"Lyman Jones, Soul-Samurai and Poet-Lothario of Castle Hills, carried mischief in the corners of his eyes. He liked Sly and the Family Stone and John Prine, Charles Bukowski and William Carlos Williams, Magnum P.I. and the PBS News Hour. He would dance like Tom Jones if you asked. He savored words as others relish fine wine, and wrote poetry like a dry-stone mason would build a wall-each word of exact shape and weight, all made to fit together perfectly. He was easy in his own skin, and being around him made you easy in your skin, too. He knew that he was smarter than you, but never let you feel it. He spoke to children and adults with equal respect, and in the case of children, he did so sincerely. He was a connoisseur of profanity and given to maniacal laughing fits that were, fortunately, contagious. He did wheel chair donuts at formal gatherings, gallantly offering rides to fair damsels or stray urchins. A valued instructor at the National Outdoor Leadership School, he climbed mountains and kayaked the Sea of Cortez, taught self-confidence, respect for the natural world, and the importance of teamwork. He loved his dog, Diggs, and the many who came before. In spite of great difficulty, he gave the two most uproarious best-man speeches in the entire history of Texas weddings. He constantly sought beauty and always found it, even lately when he could venture no further than around his own block. He had a romantic heart but gave sage advice. He had at least 10 best friends. He had a fierce love for his nieces, siblings, parents, and family. And he made my own heart larger and stronger and braver."

No memorial for Lyman ... He didn't want one. Instead we organized a living wake last summer, wherein we who loved him, family members and friends from around the world, each had the opportunity to testify to the many amazing ways our lives had turned out differently (and always for the better) because of Lyman's intervention. Sure, it's unusual to schedule a remembrance for one still among the living, but nothing about our boy was conventional. We gave him hell and we gave him praise ... and it was impossible to tell which tickled him more.

Before he left us, we asked that he come back to haunt us ... especially whenever one of us might require a gentle push in the direction of integrity or humanity. And, of course, Lyman promised he'd be there when we needed him.

Parents Emily, Michael, and Morgan; siblings Meredith, Michelle, Michael, and Ryan; nieces Talula, Ariana, Mychaela, Milanna, and Elida Morgan; uncle Henry; soul mate Brenda; and spiritually-adopted son Jacob ... we choose not to say "Goodbye", as Lyman is still with us in every breath we draw. Instead we'll just say "Well done, Cinco. Qué bien, Limón ..."

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