Looking back, it seems to me that I had a really long emotional adolescence, stretching from the time I was twelve until I was in my late thirties. My alcoholic father was and wasn’t a role model for the man I wanted to be. He taught me a lot about how not to be, but gave me no model and no path to become the man I hoped to be. So I mostly faked it. I watched lots of Hollywood movies and then pretended to be a suave, urbane, witty, man-of-the-world. I built a great outside to hide my scared-little-kid inside.
I lived my life recreating my relationship with my Dad with every new boss, and recreating my parents’ dysfunctional marriage in my first two marriages. Each job began with me creating a pseudo-father-son relationship with my boss, then finding fault with my boss, then feeling unseen or unacknowledged, then, ultimately quitting the job or getting fired, feeling like a failure and even more of a fake. Ugh! Each marriage was another attempt to prove to myself I was grown up, and to have a wife who would “save” me from my loneliness and fear of being discovered as the fake I knew myself to be. Ugh, ugh!!
I met Stan Dale in 1988 when my second wife and I attended a weekend workshop offered by HAI (the Human Awareness Institute) titled “What is Sex? What is Love? What is Intimacy?” (now known as the Love, Intimacy and Sexuality workshop, level 1). I loved the workshop (so much so that I now lead this, and all the other HAI workshops). I didn’t really like Stan, however. He was too self-assured, too smooth-voiced, too “preachy” for my tastes.
It wasn’t until my third HAI workshop that I really “got” Stan. I was sharing my pain about my Dad and my childhood when Stan asked me “When are you going to let your Dad off the hook?” I got instantly enraged. Off the hook? My Dad beat me, humiliated me, ignored me, tormented me. Off the hook? My pain felt so deep I couldn’t conceive of a me that was free of it. And Stan, who barely knew me, had asked the question I most needed to be asked in that moment.
Somehow, and I really can’t remember exactly how, Stan helped me embrace the thought that my Dad wasn’t very well suited to the job of raising me. He was ill-equipped to meet my needs. So I fired him. I let go of my belief that there was something he could do or say to make me whole. Over time I came to see that I was a better Dad than my Dad was and subtly began to lovingly give my Dad the very things I had wanted him to give me. When my Dad died in 1995 I felt complete with him and knew that I loved him and he loved me. And Stan taught me how to find that love.
For the past 19 years I’ve had the great good fortune to have Stan Dale as a friend, teacher and mentor. For 19 years he has treated me with dignity, respect, kindness, compassion, honesty, and love. Much of who I am today I learned by paying attention to Stan. He taught me how to be the man I was pretending to be, and how to be so much more. There aren’t words enough to express my gratitude.
My friend Stan Dale died Friday June 8, 2007.