I knew the day would come when I would lose my friend Don. When you become friends with someone who is four decades older, you have to realize that you’ll be saying goodbye sooner rather than later. But it was still a sad moment when I heard from his daughter Sharon that he had passed away at the age of 91. After the initial shock, my mind turned to how much he had impacted my life.

Don and I met about twenty years ago, at one of the networking lunches I used to organize for Harvard Business School alumni in the Bay Area. We were immediately drawn together by all the things we shared in common. Some of these were experiences (we both attended Stanford as undergrads, followed by Harvard Business School, though Don also went on to earn a Ph.D. from UCLA) but more importantly, we shared an interest in the best ways to live life and organize people.

I think that by the end of that first lunch, we had already scheduled a one-on-one follow-up lunch to dive deeper into our mutual interests. Don was a great mentor and teacher, and introduced me to fascinating concepts like self-managed teams and unschooling. It was through Don that I learned about the work of people like Ricardo Semler of Semco and Dan Greenberg of the Sudbury Valley School.

But over our twenty years of lunches, we certainly didn’t limit ourselves to business discussions. Don would proudly share the goings on his kids and grandkids, whether that involved multi-billion dollar projects halfway across the world, or perfecting the art of resurfacing a hockey rink. One one occasion, back when my kids were still young, he showed us around Tah.Mah.Lah, the greenest house in America, which his daughter Linda and son-in-law Paul had built. Today, my daughter is about to enter her senior year in college, and is studying Environmental Studies with a minor in Urban Planning. Maybe that visit had more of an impact than Don or I realized at the time.

He would also share his challenges, whether it involved trying to get AYSO soccer volunteers to carry out their duties, or some of the health challenges that he faced. And while, as you can tell, I learned a lot from Don’s expertise, I think the most important lessons I learned came from Don’s attitude and mindset.

When Don and I met, he was an avid soccer player and in remarkable condition for a septuagenerian. As his health challenges mounted, it would have been very easy for Don to complain about what he could no longer do, and give up on his passions. Instead, Don found ways to stay involved. When he could no longer play, he refereed games. When he could no longer referee games, he organized the league so that other people could still play.

Don brought that same indomitable spirit to his health. During the two decades he was my friend, Don faced a host of issues, including several cancers (some of which he dismissed as not even worth mentioning), Siberian tick-borne encephalitis that nearly killed him and left him partially paralyzed, abdominal surgery, open heart surgery, and likely a few more things that I’ve simply forgotten. Not only did he survive these challenges, he was determined to recover as fully as possible from them. He was devoted to his physical therapy and determined to beat the medical profession’s most optimistic predictions for him. Paralyzed? Our first lunch after his coma, Don had an eyepatch and an arm in a sling. He worked and worked until he had recovered his vision and could use his formerly paralyzed hand to eat (albeit more slowly than before). Confined to a wheelchair? He did physical therapy until he could use a walker, and even after his 90th birthday, held out hope that he could defy the doctor’s predictions and strengthen his muscles enough to walk unaided. He was an inspiration.

It wasn’t easy for Don. He would complain about issues and setbacks. He wished that he didn’t need health aides to accompany him outside the home. He was human, after all. But after a few complaints, he would inevitably return to his optimistic mode and start planning how he would overcome the latest issue. As I get older, if I’m able to behave with just a fraction of the grace that Don showed, I will feel lucky and accomplished.

The other way Don inspired me was his seemingly unending desire to learn and grow. Don was always reading new research and ideas, even when he disagreed (sometimes vehemently) with them. He found all kind of ways to engage with the world of ideas, from being an early reader for his favorite indie publishing house, Berrett-Koehler, to becoming a narrator for LibriVox, where volunteers produce free audiobooks.

This could be a lonely path; Don always referred to himself as a heretic, and it was an accurate description. Don nearly always held beliefs that contradicted accepted doctrine, which he told me didn’t make him very popular with his many of his similarly-aged neighbors whom he described as preferrering to focus on golf and watching Fox News.

But it never occurred to Don to compromise his ideals to get along with others. He knew what he believed, and more importantly, why he believed it. Like another famous heretic, he effectively said, “Here I stand; I can do no other. I hope that someday the world does come around to his point of view.

On a personal note, Don was one of the people that I would regularly call on the phone, especially when I was driving. One of those other people was my late mother Grace. While they were very different people, I knew two things were true when they picked up a call from me: First, they would be happy that I called, and second, I would be happy that I made the call. I’ll miss those calls.

My last conversation with Don took place earlier this year. We had been planning our latest lunch outing, when Don called me up to cancel. He had contracted Covid-19, and wouldn’t be able to make it. But of course, he told me that we’d reschedule when he was feeling better. I reminded him that I would be traveling extensively, and to reach out to me in mid-July when I was back from Asia. As we said goodbye, we said we’d look forward to seeing each other then.

Don Yates passed away on July 10, surrounded by family and friends. He is survived by Jane, with whom he was married for 65 years, five children, and ten grandchildren.

Goodbye, Don. I will miss you, and I will always remember the lessons you taught me.