Dan Kempner
Editor
“Yes, Kilgore Trout is back again. He couldn’t make it on the outside. That is no disgrace. A lot of good people can’t make it on the outside.” – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., Jailbird
About 15 years ago, I took a call from someone I deeply admired, a man on my first Men’s Team. He was a most accomplished man. A successful executive. A brilliant mind, and a deep well of compassion. He nonetheless packed a wallop when he thought another man needed it to move forward.
“I’m thinking about leaving MDI,” he said. “I’m involved with my work, putting a lot into my religious practice, and I’m just not sure I need to continue on a team anymore.”
I thought it over.
“Well,” I said at length, “Perhaps you’re our first graduate. Maybe you’ve imbibed all you can from this particular trough, and now it’s time to move on. Do you think that’s possible?”
Apparently he did: he was gone by the end of the year.
There was another man I respected greatly on that team, still do. We had worked together and he wouldn’t shut up about his men’s team. “A guy said this on my men’s team,” or, “I can’t have a beer with you tonight, my men’s team is meeting.” It was ‘men’s team this’ and ‘men’s team’ that until I was so bebothered and intrigued I almost demanded he bring me to a meeting.
On many occasions thereafter I saw that man – thumb touching forefinger, hand raised to lips for emphasis – say with feeling, “I intend to be on a men’s team until I take my last breath.”
He said this often and with relish, and I know he absolutely meant it. He was, and is, a deep and thoughtful man, a great listener, a writer, and a worshiper of words. Indeed, he’s also a memorizer of poetry, and a man who seems always to remember other mens’ scary appointments, court dates, birthdays, or whatever. He never fails.
Until my last breath, he said.
Nearly 2 decades since I first heard that, the man who uttered it is still breathing. Yet, he’s no longer on men’s team or a member of MDI.
In fact, of the thirteen men at my first meeting, I am the only one who remains active in MDI. One by one the others stepped out. None ran away or crashed and burned. None left cursing the organization and they are all doing fine. They just… left. One has just returned. He recently joined a team in Atlas division.
These are men who helped build MDI. One brought Legacy Discovery to New England. One left shortly after his term as Regional Coordinator ended. One was the Chief Financial Officer for years, and so on. These were awesome, committed men.
So, why? Why did they leave? And how has life been on the outside? Are they fulfilled? Continuing to make powerful choices in their lives? Do they think about coming back, and if so, why?
This is something Legacy Magazine is setting out to explore. We have asked a number of such men to write about their experiences, some in this issue and others down the road.
There is nothing new in all this. After all, it is a fine academic tradition for some students to drop out, if the work is too difficult or burdensome; for some to go on sabbatical, so they can explore important learnings before returning at some future date. Still others, as noted above, simply graduate and go out into the world to use their skills and leave their mark.
All three types come through MDI and always have. But there is a tendency, once a man leaves, for him to recede from the lives of those who stay, just as graduates lose touch post commencement.
Hence, we don’t always know why they left and the outcome – whether positive or otherwise – is a mystery. This month we begin an exploration of those on sabbatical, the dropouts, and the graduates in their own words. It should be interesting and, we hope, instructive for the rest of us.
As for me? I intend to be on a men’s team until I take my last breath. But will I? We’ll see.
