Cycling Across The Southwest – Sedona

Day 11 – Resting in Sedona

“Once, it was so damned dry, the bushes followed the dogs around.”
  ~Nancy Dedera

My friend Dale is a former boss from many years ago. He’s a guy who was always renowned for his hard-hitting style, and his relentlessly demanding style. I helped him build his companies up into a tiny little empire, then I got bored and went on another of those eclectic little careens I talked about in this post. Dale and I parted as good friends, and a few years after I left he sold his companies and became very financially secure. Well, wealthy really.

I was busy careening…

We’ve maintained our friendship for these many years. Though Dale and I fought many battles when we worked together, and were in serious conflict often, we always respected one-another, and this respect is what carried our friendship over past the day that I left him and his company, and past the day he became very wealthy.

It’s been years since we got to spend relaxed time together, and just hang out. Dale is a perfect host, and takes me on a tour of all the sites in Sedona. He’s particularly sure to take me by and introduce me to the pastor at his church, as well as the music director. Dale expresses many times how worried he is that I’ll be riding my bicycle up “the switchbacks” on the road up to Flagstaff in the morning, and insists that I let him take me at least up to the top of the dangerous part of the road in the morning. Of course, I agree.

As the day is ending, we enjoy steaks out on his back patio, and some of the best conversation I’ve ever had with Dale.

When we’re young men, in the prime of our strength and vigor, we tend to have a sort of fire in our belly. With some folks it’s a hotter fire than others, but with men at least, this fire burns pretty hot in our 20’s and 30’s, before starting the slow cooling process in our 40’s. This fire drives us to be quick to analyze things, quick to draw judgements, quick to make decisions. We’re always moving forward, and we need to move forward rapidly.

Damn the torpedos, we’ve got war to wage, or problems to solve, or mountains to move.

And with Dale, that fire was hot when he was a young man. He’s about 10 years older than me, so we’re close enough in age that while we often disagreed about how to wage whatever battle we were fighting, we always fought the battles back-to-back and with a gleam in our eye.

I recall that Dale’s tendency to be critical and judgmental about others always bothered me. Truth be told, I suspect I had the same tendency, and he probably same that same quality in me as bothersome. We probably just judged different things, and in different ways. Perhaps it was simply an unfortunate part of our nature as young men.

But the Dale that I enjoy supper with is one I never knew in those olden days. He’s thoughtful and deliberate in his thinking. He clearly works to see many perspectives of something. He’s very sure of himself, but in a way dramatically different from the way of a young man. As young men, I think we tend to cover our insecurity with a facade of determination and surety, causing us to draw rapid judgements with which to color our world, and create that sense of stability we need to wage our battles.

As we collect years, we get better at finding the battles that really matter. As our true sense of security within ourself grows, and we become more and more comfortable with who we are and our place in the world, we develop the courage to open our minds a bit, and see other colors that the world might be painted with. It’s an interesting irony that the more comfortable and secure I am with myself, my place in the world, and my “belief”, the more open I am to hearing and understanding folks who might have a different view than myself.

Dale has clearly collected years well, and we talk for hours about a wide range of topics. Often, he’ll do an outstanding job of articulating a position that I know he doesn’t necessarily agree with, but nonetheless he cares enough to understand the other position well and articulate it well.

I always refer to Dale as one of my greatest mentors. Not that I did everything as he taught it – in fact most of what I learned from him I probably rejected. But some of the most important lessons in business I learned from Dale. In this new Dale that I’m having dinner with, I see qualities worth emulating, and smile as I realize that I hope to still call him a mentor.

We clean up the dishes, and call it a night. We load my bicycle into the trunk of Dale’s Cadillac for an early start in the morning, and I get myself packed up and ready for bed. But before going to sleep, I walk out of my bedroom and enjoy the cool air on the patio, and reflect on the changes I see in my friend Dale. Many of us mellow with age, kind of like good Brandy I suppose. I have no doubt that I’ve mellowed a good deal as I’ve collected a few more years in the cask. I find Dale is no exception to this, and this more mellow and thoughtful Dale is a joy to be around. I hope age mellows me in good ways like this too.

We’re up at 4:30 the next morning, and headed up toward Flagstaff. The road is narrow indeed, and I can see why Dale was concerned. As we get to the top, I start pointing out places where we can stop so Dale can drop me off, but he’s clearly intent on taking me further. We’re in Flagstaff before he drops me off. The bulk of this drive was road I’d rather have ridden my bike on, as it was good road through pretty country on a beautiful morning – not to mention the little tiny voice in my mind telling me this is a bicycle trip not a car trip.

But clearly, this little ride is a demonstration of affection by Dale like none other that I can ever remember. He was clearly worried about me riding on that narrow and steep portion of road, and he clearly wants to give me something, and this ride is that something. A couple times yesterday, I’d told Dale how much I appreciated the opportunities he gave me, and let him know of some of the regrets I had from those old days. During those conversations, Dale hadn’t replied with any similar sentiments, but I could see thoughts and sentiments working behind his eyes.

This ride this morning is his way of expressing those appreciations and those sentiments. When this understanding strikes me, I sit back and tell him just how much I appreciate the ride.

And I smile.

Upon reaching Flagstaff, Dale pulls into an empty parking lot. I unload my bike, and get the bag strapped on the back. We exchange pleasantries, a long and strong handshake, and a slap on the back. Then Dale drives off. I hope to see him again soon – it’s been such a pleasant but short time we’ve had together. But fate has something else in mind, and Dale’s life will come to an end about 6 weeks later at the hands of a nasty but hidden infection that’s working in his body even as we’ve had this wonderful time together.

Rest in peace my friend, and thanks again for the ride!