IN MEMORIAM

JUNE 23, 2022 – I’m interrupting my “True Story” series—an explanation of life on earth, as told to an alien from a galaxy far, far away—and exceeding all self-imposed word limits (for “True Story,” I’ve increased my previous limit of 500 to 550) to write about the loss of a dear friend, the inimitable John “Jack” Hoeschler.

I was informed by his spouse, Linda, also my dear friend, by a text yesterday evening: “Jack just died 10 minutes ago . . . so keep editing.” The post-ellipsis referred to the beautiful obituary she’d drafted earlier for me to review. I’d wept when I read the obit; I wept again when I read her text. Jack had just entered hospice after a long struggle with cancer, so his body’s surrender was unsurprising, but I wept nonetheless. As I was thumbing out a response to Linda (I got as far as, “Oh my gosh. A titan has left us—but his”), she called me. Despite her stress, strain, and exhaustion, she sounded characteristically strong. Despite my reputation for manliness, I did not sound characteristically strong. I wept again—as I had when my brother-in-law Dean died after decades of progressive MS finally robbed him of life; as I had when my 93-year-old mother, long in decline, succumbed to time; as I had when my father died at nearly 88, seven years before Mother, from the wholly untreated disease that modern medical science is now conquering in my own mortal body. For no other deaths but these have I so grieved—and wept.

Jack Hoeschler gave to this world so many mighty gifts, they are beyond accounting. His keen intellect; his expansive curiosity; his indefatigable spirit; his love for the arts; his love of active sports and communing with nature; his willingness to answer any call to dive in, listen to the issues, sort out the noise, develop ideas, then roll up his sleeves and implement constructive solutions—that was Jack. He never met a person he didn’t like; he never met a challenge he didn’t face with cheer.

In recent months, under the care of the same outstanding clinic where I’ve been receiving my own treatment, Jack and I regularly spoke by phone. I was ever impressed by how he took one setback after another—then asked with genuine interest and empathy how I myself was doing, followed inevitably by a hearty discussion of the issues of the day. The last time I saw Jack was by coincidence at the infusion center. We greeted each other heartily, and as usual, Jack’s broad smile lightened my heart.

We first met in the course of a real estate transaction. I knew on the first encounter that Jack was a “cut-to-the-chase” kind of lawyer with a cheerful manner. Once business was finished, he easily shifted to free-ranging conversation. We learned immediately that we shared many common interests.

Soon afterward I found myself in a wholly unrelated meeting with Jack and a couple of Laotian immigrants whom he was advising on a prospective business transaction. I worked at a bank at the time, and Jack thought I could help the plucky entrepreneurs find financing. I’d subsequently learned that this was not a “one-off” piece of Jack’s pro bono work. It was his regular fare.

Several years passed when I next encountered Jack, this time on the opposite side of a protracted and very public dispute involving a failed real estate development in the heart of downtown St. Paul. The partner who’d passed the thick red rope files off to me said he never wanted to have anything more to do with the case. “Why?” I asked. –“Because I can’t stand the lawyer for our client’s main adversary.” –“That bad, eh? Who is it?” –“A guy named Jack Hoeschler.”

I laughed. And for the next three years, Jack and I wound up having pitched battles by phone, letter, opposing briefs, court motion and hearing after court motion and hearing. I’d never battled another lawyer as I fought Jack Hoeschler. And yet—the legal fight served me better than any other professional experience I’d had to that point—or since. From Jack’s cheerful style and powerfully courageous intellect, I learned that one can be a zealous advocate without compromising one’s principles; that one can argue, contest, oppose, without being offensive; and above all, that operating within the confines of a highly structured framework of laws, rules, and standards, the creative and courageous mind can devise elegant solutions. That was Jack—the lawyer my partner “couldn’t stand.” Over time, I established a solid working relationship with that partner. But over that case, I developed a richly rewarding friendship with Jack that would deepen all the way to his dying day, over 30 years later.

To finish the text I’d begun to Linda, “A titan has left us, but his spirit lives on.” Each of us is a thread—with a beginning and an end—in the great, mysterious tapestry of human existence. Each thread is interwoven with surrounding threads. The thread of Jack Hoeschler’s life is so tightly bound to others, it will brighten the tapestry in inestimable ways long beyond sight of Jack’s physical death. By his example, by his zest for life, and his discovery of meaning in every encounter, I will re-dedicate my own life, my own thread, to living life to its fullest.

In loving memory of . . . a titan.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson