I am an only child by birth, but Tony has become the brother I never had. It started the day I attended a workshop on April 21, 1979. I had recently moved to Mill Valley from Stockton California after my marriage ended. I felt lonely and hungry for connection. I saw a flyer stuck to a bulletin board that caught my eye:
“Men, come share a day with other men and listen to psychologist Herb Goldberg, author of The perils of being a man. We will explore the complexity of men’s roles today.”
Goldberg said,
“There’s a lot of talk these days about male privilege. It is true that males, as a group, occupy many positions of power in society, but the male has paid a heavy price for his male privilege and power. He is out of touch with his emotions and his body. He plays by the rules of the men’s game and with lemming-like purpose destroys himself – emotionally, psychologically and physically.”
I could definitely relate to his words and I was looking for a different way to be in the world.
The day with Goldberg and what followed changed my life. The day wasn’t about gender politics or trying to figure out who was more evil than the social system. It was about taking responsibility for our wounds and supporting each other in healing. One of the exercises we did was to have each man reflect on the times we had felt abandoned or betrayed by other men in our lives.
I talked about my father’s anger and leaving the family when I was five years old, something I had rarely discussed with anyone, and certainly not in front of a group of strangers. As other men talked about their own experiences, I realized I wasn’t alone. Many men had experienced a father wound. But there were other wounds and betrayals.
One man talked about being the youngest in his family and having two older brothers who tormented him. Another spoke of his hunger to have a child. He was willing to leave a relationship that was good in every other way except that the woman didn’t want children. I’ve never heard a man talk so fervently about wanting to be a dad.
Tony was one of the fifteen men who attended the rally. He was tall, good-looking, soft-spoken, but very approachable.
After the day was over, we had all opened up to vulnerabilities and hurts that we had never shared before. I felt like I had found soulmates and wanted to continue the experience. Tom, one of the organizers, invited anyone interested to meet next Thursday at his home. Ten of us showed up and discussed the idea of meeting weekly for a men’s group. I was glad to see that one of the men who came was Tony. After a few weeks, the group was down to seven and we have continued to meet ever since.
My wife, Carlin, says that one of the main reasons she feels we’ve had a wonderful marriage of forty-four years is because I’m in a men’s group that’s been dating for forty-five years.
In my book12 Rules for Good Men I thought about the many experiences we had together in the group and outlined the following 7 Stages:
- Learning to trust and open up.
- Revealing our true selves, our fears and insecurities.
- We strip our bodies and souls.
- Finding Pleasure and Having Fun Together.
- Team Revitalization (After twelve years together, one of the guys said we looked like an old and comfortable married couple. We had to spice things up, and we did).
- Making a commitment to keep the team together.
- Coping with disabilities, loss and death.
When the group started in 1979, I was thirty-six. There were three older than me and three younger. I turned eighty last year and am now the oldest of the group. Four of us have died and three of us are still alive. Tony passed away on May 26, 2024 and we are still in the process of mourning his passing and celebrating the gifts he left us.
There are two qualities that stand out to me about Tony. The first quality is his patience. In a world where everyone seems to be in a hurry, Tony always took his time. He listened and pondered deeply. When he spoke, it was always with grace, clarity and an ability to cut through the chatter and noise and get to the heart of the matter.
In recent years he has had to deal with many health challenges and would say it was like a never-ending “beat” dealing with one problem, only for another to pop up and demand his attention. But she handled each one with grace and courage.
The second quality is his generosity. We met alternately in different places, sometimes in one of our houses, sometimes in another. Sometimes we would rent a house in a beautiful area, often by the ocean. Whenever we met, when it was Tony’s turn to host, he went out of his way to make the experience special. Spending time with Tony was always good food, good wine, good vibes and always a surprise or two.
His generosity of spirit went beyond what a great host, friend and brother would do. He was like a virtuoso musician (he loved music and was a runner for the Sons of Champlin rock band in the 1960s and 1970s) who paid attention to details. And all the details were about the music of love and life.
One of the experiences Tony and I had was to attend one of the last shows the band did eagles gave at the Cow Palace in San Francisco on March 10, 1980. I had seen it eagles appeared shortly after the band formed in the 1970s and danced and sang along to iconic songs such as Easy peaceful feeling, Tequila Sunriseand Criminal (for me the ultimate song that spoke to my broken heart—as well as so many men I know—with lyrics
like these:
Desperado, you know you’re not getting any younger
Your pain and hunger drive you home
And freedom, oh freedom
Well, only some are talking
Your prison is walking
Through this world alone…
And don’t your feet get cold in winter?
The sky will not snow and the sun will not shine
It’s hard to tell night from day
You lose all your highs and lows
Isn’t it funny how the feeling goes away?
Desperado, why don’t you come together?
Come down from your fences, open the gate
It may be raining, but there’s a rainbow above you…
And the last complaining lines:
You better let someone love you (let someone love you)
Let someone love you before it’s too late.
In our last phone call before Tony passed, he told me,
“I received a loving intervention from some medical professionals today who made it clear to me that I am dying. I just wanted to catch up with you and the guys. There will be no grand gestures or parties or anything like that. I just want to remember the wonderful times we spent together over the years. I love you my brother. You’re doing a great job and I love you so much.”
Being with Tony and the other five men on our team taught me lessons of courage and love that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. Tony, I love you too, bro. Your spirit will continue to bless us all.
As we all agreed, our team will continue until the last person has passed and live on through the lives of those we love and whose lives we have touched.
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