Dawson
As I began mulling over the words that I would write for this column, I started thinking about all the things that I could say about Lonnie Wilkey, my boss. But after thinking it over, I determined this space would be better served if I discussed Lonnie Wilkey, my friend.
Certainly, it would be easy enough to tell you about what a great and extremely easy-to-work-for editor Lonnie has been during my seven-plus years with the Baptist and Reflector. But for today’s purposes, I think I’d rather discuss the deep connection that he and I have shared.
At first glance, the friendship between Lonnie and me might seem unlikely. The two of us have quite a few opposing preferences, including our vastly-contrasting sleep patterns. (I like to stay up relatively late; he likes to get up super early). And yet, not only have we made this partnership work, we have thrived together. We have formed our own little 1-2 punch, complementing each other in a symbiotic fashion since I came on staff at the Tennessee Mission Board in the summer of 2017.
Now, here we are today, this unlikely duo — the early bird and the night owl — taking our last flight together.
As most of you know, this issue of the B&R is Lonnie’s last. After 36 years of unwavering loyalty to this newspaper, Lonnie is hanging up his keyboard. … Well, sort of, at least.
He’s still going to do a lot of writing, including some freelance work for us (thank goodness!), but today’s issue is officially “Lonnie’s last ride” in the editor’s chair.
To say that we are going to miss him is a ginormous understatement. His absence will be felt on a daily basis by those of us who love, and lean on, Lonnie.
David Dawson and Lonnie Wilkey.
The void will be especially big for me personally. Lonnie has been my travel companion and my roommate on many work trips. We’ve gone to ballgames together, played golf together and worked basketball games together. We’ve shared many, many meals and many, many laughs. We’ve prayed with each other and for each other. We’ve celebrated big wins and grieved tough losses. We’ve rejoiced over some award-winning issues of the paper, and we’ve lamented over some of the hiccups (most of them minor, thankfully) that have occurred through the years.
For those who don’t know him as well as I do, let me tell you that Lonnie Wilkey is a genuinely generous and thoroughly thoughtful human being. I learned this firsthand during my earlist days with TBMB.
At that time, Lonnie and I lived in the same neighborhood, just three minutes apart. Many times, he would come over to watch my two boys so that my wife and I could go out to eat or to a ballgame. (Lonnie refused to take a dime for these services). He also surprised us with hand-delivered meals from time to time, including bringing my favorite dish (his wife’s tater-tot casserole) to our house when April and I both had COVID. That’s just the kind of person, and the kind of friend, that Lonnie is. And I am going to miss him in so many ways.
I am going to miss hearing his voice on those Monday-morning phone calls, most of which began with lengthy discussions about football — his beloved Gamecocks, my beloved Commodores, and the one team that we both cheer for: The perpetually-disappointing Tennessee Titans. (I have often told Lonnie that the Titans never miss a chance to miss a chance).
Eventually, those Monday-morning conversations would turn to the newspaper. With Lonnie, almost all conversations eventually come back around to the newspaper. The B&R is his passion. His priority. His privilege.
I will also miss our long car rides together, which usually entailed discussions about certain football teams (see above), along with a time of brainstorming about story ideas for upcoming issues of the paper. And, more times than not, the rides also included a nap from Lonnie. (The man is a master nap-taker. He can be engaged in a conversation one second, and then be sound asleep just a nanosecond later).
Lonnie Wilkey, editor of the Baptist and Reflector, will retire on Dec. 31 after 36 years on the newspaper’s staff.
Another thing I will miss is Lonnie’s organizational habits. Understand here that Lonnie works best when his desk is in a state of clutter. And I am talking utter clutter. His “virtual” desktop is the same, too. Stuff everywhere. You can’t even see his screen saver because his desktop is so full of thumbnails.
Lonnie refers to both his desk and his desktop as “organized chaos” — and I must say, that’s accurate. He always knows exactly where everything is and he knows just where to find it. It’s pretty amazing. And, to those who know him best, it’s endearing.
Another thing that I will miss about Lonnie is his punctuality, which served to highlight our differing personalities. To me, showing up early simply means getting there at any point before the event begins. For Lonnie, arriving early means getting there 30 to 45 minutes before the event is scheduled to start. Or perhaps 30 to 45 minutes before they even open the doors.
And as for the aforementioned sleep patterns? Well, for Lonnie, a good night of rest is from 8:30 p.m. to 3:30 a.m. Me? I’m more of a midnight-to-7:30 type of guy. And yet, this whole thing has actually worked in our favor.
Many times, I have stayed up deep into the night at my house, working on the paper. When I was finished, I would send Lonnie an e-mail at 2 a.m., right before I head off to bed. Lonnie would often reply to that e-mail about an hour and half later — when he was getting up to start his day. We have jokingly said that, between the two of us, we essentially have someone “on call” 24 hours a day. The B&R never sleeps!
In the days ahead, those late-night/early-morning e-mail exchanges will no longer occur, and those Monday-morning phone calls will be far less frequent. I’m sure we will still see each other on occasion — Lonnie has too many Tennessee ties to stay away entirely — but the partnership we have known for the past seven-plus years is ending. The 1-2 punch will now be reduced to just a single jab.
And I am going to miss my boss. Much more, I will miss my friend.
Take care, Lonnie Wilkey, and thank you for the indelible mark you have made on my tenure at the TBMB. Chris Turner and I will do our best to maintain the standard that you have set for the B&R during the past 36 years. But rest assured of one thing, sir: You will never be replaced. B&R
