Some rules we follow and some rules we break—who knew this longer than anyone? Our Founding Fathers and Pop Jones.

He saw 106 Independence Days before he passed away this January at 107 years old.

As a boy growing up in West Philadelphia, he had no rights once he left a prescribed area of town.

Then, when he lived through Civil Rights and saw our country slowly make changes to right the wrongs of the past, he was no longer restricted to the places he could go. 

He still always stayed in the place where he raised his family and community from the bottom to the top.

Talk about an All-American!

There’s apple pie, football (okay, basketball for me), fireworks on the Fourth of July, (and New Year’s Eve to celebrate Pop Jone’s birthday, right?), yet why is Pop Jones not an American icon? I aim to change that.

But first, who is Pop Jones?

The father of Wali Jones, my Dad’s former 76ers teammate, is a legacy in his own right, having lived to be 107 years old.

But it’s not the basketball family connection or age; once you meet him, he becomes your Pop, too.

Not that we started that way.

I met Pop Jones with my childhood friend, documentary maker Tigre Hill, and cameraman Lamont Fountain. We came prepared to capture Pop Jones on camera, but we didn’t suspect there would be rules attached.

Wali planned to facilitate the conversation, but his airport was closed due to flooding, so he told us to go ahead and meet Pop Jones without him.

When Pop Jones entered the room looking like the walker was walking him, I expected a family reunion-type moment. 

Pop Jones is shorter than me; I’m only 5 ‘ 7. But he stands much taller when he commands a formal introduction.

Pop Jones refused to let us take his picture. I marveled at the old-school word choice: picture. I explained we wanted him to tell his story on a video camera.

Then he demanded money, and I had to pull out the I’m Bill Cunningham’s daughter card, which I don’t use often. My Dad and Wali were 1967 Sixers World Championship teammates.

These conversations with Pop Jones were a family thing—a genealogy search. We became family before I was even born, and so much transpired before we met. I wanted to hear anything Pop Jones had to say.

It wasn’t enough to claim I was family; Pop Jones made me earn that position.

And so I had my chance once we got past the introductions.

The camera started rolling, and Pop Jones enjoyed sharing his stories so much that he forgot all about the rules, though they seemed to be behind everything he said, egging him on.

Like formal introductions, wearing a hat, or asking him if I could take him to his room when it was time for him to go upstairs, he said, “A lady’s not allowed in a gentleman’s room.”

It was also clear he obeyed his elders (he had a 106-year advantage on that one), and since no one else was born in 1916, Pop Jones could do as he pleased.

He said, “I was born in 1916, but it doesn’t affect me that much.”

When he’d stop and calculate years and say, “Wait a minute, let me get my bearings here…” The years were staggering even to me. 

Pop Jones was a portal into a time long ago, but I had to remember, wait, he didn’t grow up in the Victorian Era, but then you realize his parents (and our entire society at the time) did. So, yes, there were still a lot of rules.

Call them rules of engagement, if you will; it’s not like he spoke directly about this; he didn’t have to. But here are a few I noticed.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT:

Rule #1: Go to school. It was the Great Depression, and he wanted to work to help support the family, but his brothers made him go to school.

Rule #2: Be kind. “If you’re a jackass, no one’s gonna like you.” (Okay, he had his wits about him–both in mind and with a great sense of humor).

Rule #3: Support your family and community. He married right after high school, had eight children, and outlived four of them and his wife. But he continued to support his family and everyone who knew him. As an upstanding community member, he became a mason. And, as he said, “They never would let me go.”

Rule #4: Stay out of trouble, whatever you do. Go to school or work, do something. That rule was prevalent in how he raised his kids.

Rule #5: The golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Because in that rule of all rules lies the inherent discernment: some rules are meant to be broken.

Pop Jones could finally go where he wanted, so he did what any selfless father would do–he empowered his children to seize that opportunity.

He raised his children to know when to follow the rules and when to break them.

The impact of his teachings became evident as Wali got a scholarship at Villanova, a place Pop Jones could never have strolled through as a kid. Wali went on to play basketball professionally, achieving heights Pop Jones could only dream of.

Pop Jones saw his life come full circle when they honored Wali with a mural in Mantua, West Philadelphia, last summer. Seeing his son recognized after so many years brought tears to his eyes. He had already witnessed enough of life to understand that some rules are essential and some should never have been there in the first place.

Through his unwavering work ethic and respect for others, Pop Jones taught his children and community the importance of resilience. His philosophy to know when to challenge the status quo empowered his family to reach heights he could only dream of, as seen in Wali’s success.

Pop Jones’s legacy lives on not just in his children’s achievements but also in the community that he nurtured and supported. The mural of Wali in Mantua stands as a testament to this legacy, celebrating the enduring impact of one man’s simple yet profound teachings.

His life’s lessons remind us that resilience can overcome adversity, legacy is built through consistent and meaningful actions, and community is strengthened by shared values and support.

And so, by rules that were both ruly and, at times, unruly, Pop Jones learned to be the backbone of the community and pass the ball to his children and all the community members who needed him.

In honor of Pop Jones, may we have a ruly/unruly 4th of July–whatever the case may be!