Ron

I met Ron early during my personal growth journey. We both volunteer at Foundations Workshops, the program that changed our lives. Now we pay it forward.

Ron and I have shared facilitation duties for 14 years. Ron has the distinction of being the only person who has hung around for about as long as I have. People see us as mentors, as a steady presence that reassures them because they know they can lean on us.

For Ron, it’s even more than that. Although we’ve presented the program in such far-flung places as Tennessee, British Columbia, Alberta, and other places throughout North America, the city with greatest longevity is Portland, OR.

Ron is considered the father of the Portland program. The year was 2004. At the time, the program was operating only in Pigeon Forge, TN. Ron approached Eldon, the leader of the program, about starting a second program in Portland. He loves to tell the story. Apparently they met in a back room, in a chicken wire cage used to store and secure equipment. It is the genesis story of a program that has affected the lives of more than one thousand participants in over 60 different groups. When other cities are included in the total, Ron has facilitated 115 Foundations workshops.

Starting a program in a new city is HARD. There is no onsite infrastructure or leadership. There are few volunteers for a program that runs primarily on volunteers. Most important, there are few alumni. Alumni are critical to a program where word-of-mouth is the only proven form of marketing or advertising.

Ron overcame these obstacles. Because I was primarily involved in the Tennessee program, I don’t know exactly how he did it. His wife Judy was instrumental. So was Judy’s sister Carol and her husband Mike. Other close friends and relatives lent their support and risked their good reputations. Bottom line: They all were committed to doing what it took to have what they wanted.

Even so, we’ve gone to cities where people could fill the first room but couldn’t keep it going beyond the initial workshop. Enrollment takes hard, hard work, and sometimes even hard work isn’t even enough. To make it 14 years in a single location is truly remarkable, and Ron and Judy have been there for the entire ride. All of the Portland participants owe a debt of gratitude to them.

Ron and I sit together at the back table during workshops. There is plenty of down time between our large group facilitation duties. When the participants break into small groups to share, we can often carry on a soft conversation. We learn a lot about each other during these conversations.

Ron is a quiet guy with deep convictions. He is thoughtful and his facilitation is well planned out. We have a very similar personality style. We’ve done much to change and mold the workshops around our shared strategic vision.

For instance, years ago the workshop involved a lot of getting into people’s faces, being confrontational in an effort to push people into change. Ron and I didn’t see that as productive. Participants would get a big “pop” or “high” from the workshop but the long-term effects were less certain.

Ron and I were instrumental in bringing a gentler, encouraging approach which relies on people deciding to change rather than having change foisted upon them. People could then take credit for their own change. It seems to work at least as well, and probably better than the “old school” days.

When I was young, it was hard to imagine older people—people my current age—being affected by events in their childhood. I thought, “It was such a long time ago. They certainly should have gotten past old hurts by now—shouldn’t they?”

Of course, now I know different. My childhood still affects how I see and interact with the world every hour of every day. That’s true for everybody, no matter what our ages.

Ron was raised in an abusive environment. When he became an adult, the consequences of this abuse manifested in him as rage.

But people can change if they do the hard work required. He is now a recovering rage-a-holic. The personal growth required to recover from his childhood has given him the wisdom, experience, and wealth of knowledge to guide others. He’s continued to counsel others through their own past hurts and hang ups.

I’ve never asked him what motivated him to change and gave him the strength to do it. But if I had to guess, I’d say his family was a huge factor. To my knowledge, Ron’s family is the most important worldly thing to him. He is a zealous protector. His family and the Portland workshop are two tall pillars of his legacy.

I believe he used to rage because tells me so. But I’ve never seen him out of control and have hardly ever seen him visibly angry. I simply don’t know the person he used to be. He did a tremendous amount of work before I ever met him. Given that I fly into a rage by the third straight red light I encounter while driving, I need to learn more from him. Obviously, my own rage ain’t about the red lights.

We are different in one way. Ron is very measured, even, and calm. I can get excitable when I need to. One day the participants were waiting outside to enter the workshop room. They were to come in with a lot of energy and excitement—loud music, jumping around, dancing, that sort of thing.

I had to go into the room ahead of the participants and leave Ron with them. So I told Ron, “Fire them up and send them in!” The look on Ron’s face was priceless. It was as if I told him to put the participants on a spaceship and send them to the moon. So I stayed and fired them up myself. We each have our own gifts.

Ron takes great pride in his facilitation, and deservedly so. One of the most challenging facilitation roles is large group sharing. There is very little structure. The facilitator uses his intuition, his skills, his compassion and wisdom to help others see what’s going on in their lives and what they might do about it. This is usually a job for our most experienced facilitators: Rick, Ron, and me.

Ron relishes the role, and so do I. The most personally satisfying moments of our jobs often come during this process. It takes all we have, all we are, all of our courage and wisdom. It is the job other facilitators aspire toward, and wonder if they would have the courage do if it was offered to them. Ron handles the responsibility with aplomb.

Ron loves to make things with his own two hands. He creates woodworking projects. His handiwork can be seen in many items in the workshop room. He sees it as an outlet for his creativity to solve a problem with a unique item he’s fashioned specifically for the job.

He is hard-working, dedicated, and dependable. He is responsible for the transportation and storage of all the equipment used in the workshop.

Ron is kind and tolerant. One year I sent a ham to Ron for Christmas. He’s a vegetarian. Instead of embarrassing me for the faux pas, he quietly gave the ham to somebody else.

Then the next Christmas, I gave him another ham. It wasn’t until the third year that I finally realized my lack of awareness and sensitivity. Ron was gracious and forgiving.

Ron is honest and forthright. He gives people the benefit of the doubt, yet maintains good relationship boundaries. He sets the example for others to follow.

Ron lives his integrity. He is the same person no matter where he is, what he’s doing, or who he’s with. He doesn’t cut ethical corners.

Ron keeps me grounded. As he’s a steady, calming presence for everybody else in the workshop room, he’s my steady presence as well. I know he has my back.

Ron is my close friend. I look forward to seeing him every workshop. When I’m with Ron, I feel like I’m at home, wherever I may be.