The lessons of youth

After a recent week on the road, it was a delight to have a fairly open weekend to spend with my family, puttering around and running errands, cooking some meals with my kids, enjoying a dinner or two with my dear wife Jennie, all in all just enjoying being a family. In the midst of this pretty run-of-the-mill weekend I had an experience with my daughter Marie that I just have to share.

Marie is our ten-year-old daughter, bright, talented, energetic, and quite a force around our house. She has a strong personality and knows what she does or doesn’t want to do. That Friday afternoon, one of Marie’s friends came home from school with her for a playdate and a sleepover. This friend is a very sweet girl and we were all looking forward to her visit. As the schedule came together, Jen had to be with Bryson at an event that night, so I had the girls. After Marie’s dance class, we all piled into my car and headed out to dinner. While the restaurant was humming at 7pm on a Friday evening, we were seated quickly and Marie and her friend were completely on their game, ordering clearly, asking for calamari as a starter (very grown up).

After a dinner of pasta and ice cream, we returned home for a quiet evening. The next morning, the three of us went out for a bike ride in our neighborhood to try out Marie’s new bike. She recently turned 10, and received a new bike with hand brakes and gears – a big step up! She was nervous at first, but with taking it slow, and good encouragement from her friend and me, Marie took to the new bike quickly. We rode around our neighborhood for a little while and headed home to get Marie’s friend on her way for a morning soccer game.

Later that same Saturday afternoon, Marie asked me if we could go out for another bike ride, certainly a bit out of the usual to ride bike twice a day, but with a little nod from Jennie, I said sure. For the second time that day, we headed out, rode around our neighborhood and headed into a large neighboring park. This park is centrally located in Atlanta and has extensive walking/running/biking paths on scenic grounds with amazing views of the mid-town skyline. As we rode around, with Marie doing great on her new bike, the feeling that I wasn’t biking solely with my daughter blew me away, I was biking with a friend! As we headed home, Marie commented that while it was unusual, it was a good thing that we got a lot of exercise this day. She told me about the fact that it she had seen that it was the “Worldwide Day of Play” on Nickelodeon, and that instead of watching TV, we needed to be outside “playing.” Here I was, a 49 year old, getting a focused lesson from my media savvy, 10 year old daughter. What an absolute treat!

I share this story as just another example that life can (and should!) be lived as a continuous learning experience. The day we stop learning and gaining new experiences is the day we stop living! As I reflect over the essays and stories in this blog, one central theme should come through… that being that we all can learn a lot from a wide variety of moments, experiences, and situations if we only pay enough attention! Whether a walk by the Des Moines River in Iowa, or the Columbia River in eastern Washington, there were learning moments. Whether a sunrise on the coast of Florida, a chance encounter in the Customs Hall at Heathrow Airport, or an unplanned bike rides with my marvelous daughter, there were all learning moments. My encouragement is to stay open and available with your time, attention and focus, allowing learning moments to find you, wherever your path through the journey of life might take!

Moonrise over the Columbia

It had been a very busy week. I had spent Monday through Thursday in Bakersfield, CA, busy on numerous topics, leaving early Friday for a flight connecting to Pasco, WA. I was heading to Eastern Washington to visit our Bolthouse Farms carrot fields and plant in Prosser, but also to attend a memorial service to honor the passing of my friend Will’s father. Will’s dad, Bud, passed away last week, and a large memorial service was planned for Saturday to be held on the ranch in Prosser just down the road from our carrot plant. In fact, the carrot plant was a legacy of Will’s dad, as our company bought the operation from him a number of years ago.

Will and I spent a good part of Friday together, driving the 60 miles to the plant, touring the operation (which was running like a top!) and touring his family’s ranch. The ranch is in the “Horse Heaven Hills” area of Prosser, an area famous for marvelous vineyards, many of which are on this ranch. After a day of conversation and reflection, I dropped Will off at his uncle’s home and headed back to town.

After the 60 miles, I found my way back to my hotel on the banks of the Columbia River. It was a bit past seven, the air was warm and the sun was bright. I noticed a few bikes in front of the hotel and I asked the woman at the front desk whether they were for rent. “Absolutely,” she said, “five dollars for four hours.” I told her that I would be right down and by 7:20 I was back in the lobby, in my workout clothes, and ready for a ride. There was a bike path running next to my hotel, also adjacent to the river, and I quickly found my way and headed north. After a few miles I saw a sign that I was on the Sacagawea Trail, named after one of the true heroes of the Lewis and Clark expedition. What a great ride! The night grew steadily cooler as the sun set and the moon rose over the barren hills and into a cloudless darkening sky. It was stunning, seeing the moon’s reflection on the river as I was heading back to the hotel. I wondered whether Sacagawea had seen this moon, at this time of year, at this point along the Columbia River – a topic for further research! I made my way back to the front desk, totally energized by the experience along the river, and ultimately headed to bed.

Saturday dawned with rain and clouds, and after checking out, I headed to the memorial service. The gathering was large, held outside on their ranch with a stunning view of the vineyards. The service itself was very moving, with a scripture reading by Will and a number of remembrances by close friends. One of the individuals spoke about Bud and shared what an inspiration he had been to him. He summed up his thoughts by saying that “an inspirational person gets you to try harder than we want to and to do more than we need to, and Bud was that man.” What a powerful and focused tribute. Shouldn’t we all strive to be that kind of person, encouraging others to achieve more than they might think possible?




Three of Bud’s well-known quotes also were shared:




“Question with Boldness”
“Hold onto the Truth”
“Speak without Fear”

As the service ended I kept going over those three phrases, wondering how I could model them better and how could I encourage my team to bring them to life more fully. All three statements reflect a philosophy of life, work and leadership where anyone’s ideas are respected, and everyone is encouraged to actively bring their ideas, their beliefs, and their questions into the discussion! Will shared a quote from his dad that sums it up well,
"go do good things!"

I hadn’t expected a leadership lesson at the memorial service for Will’s dad, but I certainly got one. In the same way I hadn’t expected to connect to a heroine of our nation’s history on an evening bike ride, but I certainly did. As I arrived in Pasco on Friday, I had no idea that I would be so inspired by these two wildly different people. My encouragement is for all of us to stay “open” to what might affect us, always looking for ways to learn and grow from any circumstance, whether a bike ride along the banks of the Columbia River or a memorial service in Horse Heaven Hills.

The Story of Floyd

The Story of Floyd

As I get ever closer to celebrating my 49th birthday I often think back to stories from my youth. As I reflect on the many lessons that I have learned over my life, I am reminded how many of the lessons occurred when and where I was working at the time. For me, work came early in my life, when as a husky yet eager 11 year old I took over my brother’s newspaper route. I became a paperboy for the Pittsburgh Press (the afternoon daily) in 1972. As I grew older, I began to work part-time in local restaurants, ultimately during my senior year in high school making my way to be THE pot washer at the local diner. To this day, that role at the diner was one of my favorite jobs ever, but I’ll keep that story for another essay. Suffice it to say that I worked a number of part-time jobs through high school and college and this story emanates from one of those jobs during the summer of my freshman year in college.

It was the summer of 1980, and instead of heading home, I traveled to Syracuse, N.Y., to spend the summer living with the family of a good friend from college. Jeff and I had become pals during our freshman year and he offered to have me come up for the summer assuring me that we could find good jobs in his home town of North Syracuse. In hindsight, it was exceedingly generous for his parents to allow an “unknown friend” to live in their home for a whole summer. I am sure that I never thanked them enough.

Good to his word, Jeff did indeed find work for us in North Syracuse. In fact we found two jobs; during the day we worked as janitors at the North Syracuse High School and most evenings we worked as bus-boys/dishwashers at the local Ponderosa Steak restaurant. Not quite the exalted heights of being THE pot washer at the diner, but not bad. This work schedule didn’t give us much extra time to get into trouble, but we did make pretty good money for those days and was able to save a bunch to take back with me to college. It was on my first day at North Syracuse High School that I heard about Floyd.

That first day reporting to work at the high school was straight out of a movie. There was quite an odd collection of individuals that gathered in the parking lot that June morning. There was Jeff and I, a few other “summer workers,” and the rest of the group were the regular janitors from across the North Syracuse School System. There were probably 10 – 15 of us in total. As we stood there waiting, a nameless person from the school districts’ administrative offices came out of the school and announced that unfortunately the head janitor, “Floyd,” was sick and wasn’t able to be there that day. Regardless, we were told that he had made work assignments for all of us and a freshly mimeographed sheet was passed out (yes, for those readers old enough, it was blue and had that memorable smell!).

The assignments were organized by school, some of us being assigned to the high school, others to the junior high or an elementary school. Each school had a list of activities, organized by week. As an example,: weeks 1-2 -- remove all desks from rooms, use putty knives to remove all gum, clean/paint over all graffiti, repair as best as possible; weeks 3-4 -- with desks in gym, mop all floors, wash all walls, clean/paint over all graffiti. The list went across the entire summer, ending with waxing the floors and replacing all the desks in their respective rooms. Jeff and I were assigned to the high school along with a few “full timers” and were told that paychecks would be handed out each Friday after work here in the parking lot. It seemed pretty straightforward to us, the work plan was very clear, and the summer was ahead.

The administrator left and we went looking for the others that were assigned to the high school. The years have faded my memory of their names, but there were two or three full time janitors also assigned to us and their first move was to offer us a cigarette as they all lit up. Jeff and I thanked them for the offer but said we didn’t smoke, which raised a few eyebrows. As we pulled out the work lists one of the smokers told us that we were lucky that Floyd was sick because he was a monster! I started to ask an innocent follow-up question and a cigarette filled hand was lifted in my direction and I was told “college boy, mind your own business. Just stay away from us and whatever you do stay away from Floyd!” Jeff and I were “assigned” the upstairs and we began to work the list.

After a few days of finding our way around, we got down to the work at hand. Quickly we started to realize a few things. First, the work list assumed that we were doing the work extremely slowly, and second, there no sign of Floyd. We worked our way through the desks a few days early and started working ahead on the list. At first, the downstairs “smokers” didn’t say too much, but after a few weeks we were stopped on the way in to work. They weren’t sure what we were trying to prove, but we needed to follow the work list because it was Floyd’s list and he was the boss. If we knew what was good for us, we would stick to the list! It was strange to be 19 years old and be somewhat “threatened” by a group of adults, and on top of that there was the mythic, unseen Floyd.

As the summer wore on, Jeff and I worked on a sort of solution. We would take Wednesdays and Thursdays off from the list and do extra work around the school; tasks not on the list. One week we washed windows, another week we painted railings, another week we bleached toilets. In this way, we pretty much stayed on schedule with the work list, and kept the criticism to a minimum from those working downstairs. While there were no actual sightings of Floyd, the stories of him only grew. We learned that he had an office down by the main furnace (as I said, straight out of a movie!). We also learned that he was an angry drinker, that he drank at work, and that he smoked Pall Malls. I wasn’t sure what to take from that cigarette reference but it was clear that none of the downstairs crew would EVER smoke a Pall Mall!

As the summer came to a close, the floors waxed and dried, with the desks finding their ways back to their rightful homes, an alarming event occurred. On the last Monday morning of the summer, there was a note taped to the front door of the high school saying “Jeff and Bill, the summer upstairs boys, report to my office at the end of the day” and the note was signed in a scratchy hand, “Floyd.” The downstairs gang took one look at the note and absolutely flipped out. They wanted to know what outrageous act we had done to cause the note. Had we been smoking pot upstairs (absolutely not!)? Had we been drinking on school property? The questions continued as they lit up and pondered our fate. To be honest with you, I was pretty freaked out about the note, not the least by the fact that Floyd actually knew our names! It was one thing for us to know his name, but he was Floyd, the feared head janitor. Who were we but some summer help?

The day was pretty shot. We moved a few desks around but Jeff and I spent most of the time wondering what we had done wrong. Sure we went off the list a bit, but was bleaching the toilets that bad? At lunchtime, we ate our ham and Velveeta (yes, Velveeta) sandwiches outside still wondering about the end of the day. One of the downstairs gang came over and kindly suggested that we could just quit now and head home. Sure we would miss a few days of pay but we could avoid Floyd; that’s what she would do! I guess we were just too much a pair of poor college students but we prepared for the afternoon “meeting.”

As the day was coming to a close, we made our way downstairs, into the basement of the high school, and headed towards the big furnace. We had been to the basement a number of times, but never anywhere near the “lair of Floyd.” It didn’t take long to find the furnace and there, just beyond, was THE office. Like two children, we shuffled up to the door and meekly knocked. “Come on in boys” was the quick reply from inside. We stepped into a small but tidy office, clip boards hanging up on a number of nails, a few spare mops in the corner. There, sitting at the desk was a rather regular looking guy with big black plastic glasses. Here was Floyd! He looked up and apologized for not having anything for us to sit on, and asked if we had had a good summer. We were speechless. Not a sound came out of me nor Jeff. He said that he had noticed our “extra work” and really appreciated it. He couldn’t pay us anything extra, that was up to the admin office, but he did say that if we wanted a job next summer he would love to have us. It was incredible. Floyd was thanking us! To this day, I am not sure what we said in response to his generous offer, we just murmured that we had had a good summer, and that we didn’t know what our plans would be for next summer, but thanks.

We never spoke a word about the meeting to the others who worked downstairs. They didn’t come near us, and we kept our distance. We finished up the week, picked up our last paycheck, and headed back to college. The next summer brought different job options (yes, one working in a restaurant) and I never went back to the North Syracuse High School.

I share this story because I often think back on this specific experience for a few reasons.
First, I learned a lot working at part time jobs when I was in high school, college, and graduate school. The value of being on time, doing a good job, taking pride in your work even when it seems pretty menial, the pleasure of cashing a hard-earned paycheck, etc., all big lessons for me, all coming from early job experiences from my youth.

Secondly, while the mimeographed sheet seemed pedantic at the time, my opinion of the simplicity and the clarity of the document has dramatically improved over the years. As a leader, I often wonder if I am being clear of my expectations of the team, and whether I have painted a clear picture of success. Floyd certainly did!


Finally, the whole “myth” of Floyd was something to remember. Rather than finding out for myself and giving him the benefit of the doubt, I got caught up in the fear mongering of my fellow workers. I had kept my distance from that fateful basement office, filled with the nonsense stories of others. If I had heard that Floyd had needed some kind of help, would I have volunteered to help, or walked the other way? Across history, individuals, groups, races and countries have often demonized others to advance their own agendas. Somehow by spreading fear about others, a strange and possibly dangerous sense of community is formed. I often think back on that innocent summer and try to remind myself about Floyd, and try to be open and inquisitive to those things, individuals, or ideas that might be new and strange to me and to try to NOT be like the downstairs gang!

The Legacy of Bruce

Some say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. In some circumstances this may be true. Most often for me, the sincerest form of flattery turns out to be storytelling. I don’t try to imitate those individuals who I most fondly remember and love the most; I try to keep them “alive” by recounting their lives and lessons through story. You may have read about my Aunt Lorraine and “Lorraine’s Law,” or my grandmother (MaMa) and her “Turkey Bag” story. Both are great examples of stories about two important women from my life: my Aunt who is very much alive, and my Grandmother, who passed away more than ten years ago.
I share these ideas as I reflect back on the passing of my dear friend Bruce Paynter, who passed away a year ago today after a gallant fight with ALS. As I think back over the year, I am reminded of how many different moments I have thought about or spoken about Bruce. In a strange way, Bruce has been very present for me (and with me) over the past year and in some perspective I have been more present with him than in some of the years before his passing.
I have thought often about his conversations with me before he passed, some at his home, some from his hospital bed at the hospice facility. Not only have I written about them on this blog, but I have archived these essays in a group that you can find by clicking on the archive link to the left and scrolling down for the group of essays listed under ”Inspirations of Bruce.” Just this past weekend, I shared his thoughts on ”Communities Matter” with a group of friends. Take a look for yourself and see what connections you make to his thoughts and comments.
What also has been amazing over the past year is how many varied groups I have spoken to about Bruce: groups with nothing in common, and no previous connection to Bruce, his hometown of Appleton Wisconsin, or his company Kimberly- Clark. For a cab driver in Bakersfield California, a CEO in West Des Moines, Iowa, a group of non-profit executives in Atlanta, or a chamber of commerce luncheon gathering in Lufkin Texas, Bruce has come alive to a wide variety of audiences over the past year! In every case, the “stories” about his life lessons have touched the varied audiences deeply. In more than one instance, my “stories” about Bruce have triggered others to talk about friends or family members who they have lost, some even from ALS. These moments of real connection are not only the outcome of “stories” and conversations; they are the very real and tangible impact or “Legacy” of Bruce.
My hope is that you take a moment and think about a friend, a family member, or even an old boss and reflect on the lessons that you have learned from their lives. As these thoughts or “stories” come to mind, don’t just hold them close to your heart, share them with others. I think you will be pleasantly surprised how many people can be touched by those stories.
I share these thoughts today primarily to recognize and celebrate a dear old friend. I can’t believe that it has been twelve months since his passing. I think about Bruce all the time and am just one of many who miss him very much.

Long Look Garden

Well it was hot and steamy in Des Moines on my recent visit. My trip to the capital of Iowa was prompted by meetings with a prominent grocery retailer headquartered on the west side of that city. Despite the weather, it was nice to be back in Des Moines, this time to meet with new folks and reconnect with a number of executives whom I have known for years. The business meetings went well and the “reconnections” were real treats. It’s fun to get to an age where numerous business relationships have evolved into true friendships, allowing us to connect on a very different level than solely the immediate commercial issues at hand.
After a very full day, I returned to my hotel, wrapped up few emails, and threw on my sneakers for a long walk to get some exercise. Downtown Des Moines has a very well constructed network of walking trails that stretch along the rivers connecting a number of city parks together.

With a map in hand, I hit the trails. I crossed the swollen Des Moines River and headed south. It was a hot and sunny evening and as I walked along the trail I realized that I was heading towards the Baseball Park that is the home of the Iowa Cubs. There was a game that night and folks were coming to the park from across the city. There really is something quintessentially American to hear the buzz of a crowd gathering for a ball game on a hot summer night in the heart of the Midwest! I didn’t have time to go in and watch the game but I did linger for a few minutes at an outfield fence to watch the stands fill. Then, I returned to my trail map and my walk. After about an hour I had made my way back to the hotel but wasn’t quite ready to dive back into the unread emails. On I went across the street to continue on the trail and immediately entered a garden. Pinks, yellows, purples…flowers of many shades were on both sides of the path and for about a hundred yard the path wound its way through this beautiful garden on the banks of the Des Moines River. Unexpected beauty to say the least!

At the end of the garden was a small plaque that announced that the garden was sponsored by Pioneer Hi-Bred International, a seed company based in Iowa. It referenced that this was the “Long Look Garden,” honoring its long held business philosophy of taking a “long look” at business opportunities, challenges and decisions. Enough said, I quickly returned to the hotel to find out more! What follows is copied from the Pioneer Hi-Bred website:

The Pioneer way of doing business

The “Long Look," originally written in 1952, reflects our business philosophy, one that had evolved since our incorporation in 1926. While we have added and subtracted many products and services from our core seed corn business over the years, our “Long Look” business philosophy has remained constant.
1. We strive to produce the best products on the market.
2. We deal honestly and fairly with our employees, customers, seed growers, sales force, business associates and shareholders.
3. We advertise and sell our products vigorously, but without misrepresentation.
4. We give helpful management suggestions to our customers to assist them in making the greatest possible profit from our products.



This summary of tried and true business principles, now 58 years in practice, deeply ran true to me. Regardless of industry, category, or function, these four elements are applicable broadly yesterday, today and into the future. I immediately thought about how to share these with my team and how to translate them to our current business challenges. Take a minute and think about how the “Long Look” can apply to your business/leadership challenges.

On a final note, I want to emphasize a recurring theme of my blog essays. Once again from an unexpected source – a walk through a garden on a steamy summer evening in Des Moines – I found a moment of inspiration that made an impact on me and a connection to my current business challenges. It’s rarely convenient to take a few moments (never mind an hour for a walk) away from the pressing nature of business, but I continue to be amazed at how much there is to learn when I slow down enough for a moment of reflection that might include reading a plaque on the banks of the Des Moines river.

Lessons from a Florida Turnpike

I think that it should be obvious by now that a recurring theme of my essays is that insight/wisdom/perspective often occur in moments where we least expect it. While I have written about those moments occurring in a customs line, a car ride with my grandmother, (and a museum in Paris,) I recently had another occur at a rest area on a Florida turnpike.
After a busy morning of customer meetings, I dropped a colleague off at the Orlando airport and began a drive across the state, working my way to West Palm Beach. I was on the phone non-stop, moving from one conference call to another and I found myself in mid-afternoon, having not eaten lunch, and needing a break. I was making good time so instead of the typical drive-thru stop, I decided to go into the McDonald’s to take a break for a few minutes and eat my lunch inside the rest stop. Blackberry in hand, I sat down to eat and catch up on emails.
The restaurant was pretty empty being mid-afternoon, but after a few minutes a grandfather arrived with a handful of grandkids (both boys and girls, maybe 4-7 years old) in tow to buy them an afternoon treat. A collection of ice cream cones and milk shakes arrived and the kids sat down in the booth next to me to devour their sweet treats. My attention was so focused on the kids that I totally missed the middle aged couple that came in to the restaurant, with the man (husband?) heading to the bathroom and the woman (wife?) heading to the counter to order. No one missed the following scene. The woman had the bag of food in her hand as the fellow came out of the bathroom and asked some sort of terse question. Without a reply, she handed over the bag. Upon looking inside, the man shouted “You are so stupid, you never get it right!” and proceeded to smash the bag of newly bought food into trash bin and stomp out of the McDonald’s. The woman looked up to and saw all of us, Grandpa, the grand kids and me, all silently watching her. She shrugged her shoulders, looked into the garbage can, hung her head and walked out of the restaurant.
I thought to myself that the guy was “a total A@#hole” and went back to my blackberry. Grandpa took better action. The kids were still silent from the outburst and he asked them whether they had all seen what that man had just done. All nodded yes. He spoke to the little girls and said to never, never let any man treat them the way that man just treated that woman. He said that too many women put up with too much from “small, mean spirited men” and that it would be better to be alone that to put up with “that nonsense.” He then looked at the boys and asked whether any of them thought the guy was cool or strong. They all shook their heads no. The grandpa finished his “lesson” with a great line when he said “Kids, I’ve lived 71 years and for me, mean never equals good!”
Quietly, the kids finished their treats, threw away their trash and started heading out. The grandpa corralled the kids out to their minivan, and headed off down the turnpike. I sat at my little plastic table and thought completely about my two kids, Bryson and Marie, and how much I wished they had been sitting with that grandpa, and how much I need to find a way to pass that lesson along to them.
While I will certainly use this essay as a way to share the lesson with them, I wanted to share it broadly on two counts. First and most importantly, the grandpa was right, “mean never equals good!” What a simple and clear truth that all of us should remember more consistently. Secondly, what I had intended to be a 15 minute afternoon stop on a Florida turnpike turned out to be a moment of learning and inspiration. Once again, in improbable spots, amazing things continue to occur!

Whiteside from the Forest

Whiteside Mountain soars to almost 5000 feet in western North Carolina. The vistas from its summit are breathtaking regardless of weather. On clear days, one can see the distant lakes that mark the northeastern border between South Carolina and Georgia, and by looking southwest, you can look into the mountains of north Georgia. Of the many hikes that my family enjoys in those mountains, the walk up Whiteside is certainly one of our favorites and one that we have enjoyed across all seasons.

As we do with many things that we love in our lives, I have tried to share the mountains of western North Carolina and more specifically Whiteside Mountain with others. In addition to family and friends, I have brought groups of work mates to these same mountains. Over my career, I have often brought work groups to various environments (battlefields, state parks, historic sites, zoos, museums, etc.) as a way to physically leave the workplace behind. I have found that different surroundings can inspire fresh insights, approaches and learnings to help face the professional challenges of that time. One memorable trip occurred on Whiteside Mountain a few years ago.

I brought a new team of about a dozen direct reports up into the mountains to finalize the work on our annual business plan. The performance goals for the year ahead were daunting, and I wanted us to work on it together knowing that everyone on the team was deeply concerned individually on how we would ever be able to accomplish the performance targets that lie ahead. My plan included having the team prepare by reading a number of documents, including Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech. We drove to the parking lot at the trailhead which was deep in a North Carolina forest and prepared for the hike ahead. I checked that we had plenty of water, a few snacks, a first aid kit, and copies of the readings. I calmly described that the trail would take us to the top of the mountain (which was unseen amidst the trees of the parking lot), that we would take ample stops, and that we would take it pretty slow on the way up.

The hike itself went very well. We stopped a number of times on the way up and when we came out of the trees onto the summit of Whiteside Mountain, the view was breathtaking. We stopped at a few of the mountain’s natural overlooks, pausing to discuss various points of the readings and to connect them to the business challenges that lay ahead. From one overlook, a team member asked about a distant road in the valley thousands of feet below. I said that it was an alternative route that connected back to town and that it had the most amazing views of the sheer cliffs of the mountain.

An hour or so later – sweaty and tired but intact – our team made it back to the parking lot. In my typical fashion. I asked for the team’s reactions and connections between the readings and the hike. The fellow who had commented on the road in the valley was quick to respond. He asked whether I had intentionally NOT taken the valley road and rather had approached the mountain through the forest. My response was a quick no; the fastest route from town to the mountain leads through the forest and speed had been my only motivator. Quickly he described a major connection from the hike which had been completely unplanned. For him, Whiteside from the forest versus Whiteside from the valley was a major learning. If he had approached the mountain from the valley, seeing the height and the steep cliffs that lie ahead, he would have been fearful of the task ahead and doubtful of the potential for success. Instead, we had approached the mountain through the forest, stopping amidst the trees of the parking lot, checking our supplies, talking calmly of the task at hand. This individual talked about confidence and excitement instead of fear and doubt. Many of the others strongly agreed.

Often, as leaders, our responsibility is to prepare our teams for the challenges that lie ahead. At times it’s tempting to provide “lecture notes” that go into great detail about the difficulties, the complexities, and the issues that await to insure that the team has a complete view. In other words, “Whiteside from the valley.” Try to remember the power, potential, and excitement of the calm discussion in the parking lot, or “Whiteside from the forest.”
I had no idea of this “learning lesson” when I planned the hike. Good leaders need to be good teachers (see the entry “A teachable point of view”) who realize that often the best learning occurs in moments when the students can be open and candid with their thoughts, opinions and insights. It’s a mature leader/teacher who realizes that important insights can and should be found outside of “lecture notes.”