Episode 9: A Tough Choice

I was starting to question if my dream to be a Forest Supervisor was for the right reasons.  I decided I was acting out of my own family role to be the hero.   Having a title that made me whole.  I had developed enough self-awareness that I knew this was not the right path.  The job was killing me because I could not let it go. I decided to accept an offer to become the Director of Grey Towers National Landmark and Pinchot Institute for Conservation Studies in Milford, Pennsylvania.  My family did not want to move back East.  They loved Montana.  Why do we have to move (again)?

At my going away party, I was told how much I was respected and received everyone’s best wishes.  It brought me to tears.  I would be missed – What a great job you did.  I was presented with plaques, pictures, and mementos, along with thank-you letters from the Governor, a handwritten note from Senator Max Baucus and a flattering letter from Congressman Williams.   A journalist, who previously took me to task about almost everything, drove a hundred miles to attend the party.  I asked myself why the heck am I leaving this fabulous place and wonderful people?  I was given another lesson. Forest Supervisors are not likely to be showered with praise while doing the job, at least most of us.  It feels like you are never off duty – not after you get home, not on Saturday, or Sunday, or even Christmas Day.  For me, it was an all-consuming job.

The Forest Service has a long history of granting considerable authority and responsibility to Forest Supervisors.  Extraordinary respect. But it also had a history of offering very little formal support for Supervisors. Support came from your family, colleagues, and friends after hours or on weekends.  They knew exactly what I was experiencing, although I am sure many thought I brought all this heat on my own head by my sometimes breezy “management style.”  Building working relationships is a good investment.  Doing your best is recognized – just not when you are doing it.  My respite came holding the end of a fly rod or golf club.  Every Saturday morning, I tee’d off at the municipal golf course with friends. One rule, after first tee – no business talk. 

My main support at work came from my fellow Forest Supervisors.  Orville Daniels, my neighboring Forest Supervisor of the Lolo National Forest, gave me great support and insight.  I should have paid Orville and Olleke Rappe-Daniels for the years of back porch therapy.  Real mentorship.  To this day, Orville is my model of what a Forest Supervisor should be. Orville and Olleke pulled me out of a hole so many times, I lost count.  This was real support – peers who understood what you were experiencing every day and always willing to share their wisdom.  There were times when in a regional meeting, I would want to reach down and pull a hand grenade out of my brief case and pull the pin, and he would grab my arm and gently say, “Calm down, Eddie.”  We all need an Orville and Olleke in our lives.