Keepers of the Flame –  The Unexpected Gift of Becoming a Vistage Chair

As I write this, I’m somewhere around 35,000 feet above the country on my way to Denver for Keepers of the Flame. In a few hours, I’ll make the familiar drive to Boulder, Colorado, for one of my favorite weeks of the year.

Every June, I look forward to this trip.

It’s not because of Boulder, although it’s a wonderful place to gather. It’s not because of a packed agenda or a lineup of speakers. In fact, there isn’t much of either.

I look forward to it because of the people.

Every year, I come home a little different than when I left.

More than twenty years ago, when I accepted the opportunity to become a Vistage Chair, I thought I was beginning a new profession. I was excited about helping CEOs and business owners become better leaders.

What I never imagined was that one of the greatest gifts of saying yes would have very little to do with the profession itself.

It would be the people.

Discovering the Keepers of the Flame

Every June, a self-organized group of current and former Vistage and TEC Chairs gathers in Boulder. We call ourselves the Keepers of the Flame.

This isn’t a group you join early in your career.

It’s a group you grow into.

Membership isn’t automatic. To become a Keeper, you first have to spend at least ten years serving as a successful Vistage or TEC Chair before being invited into the group. That shared experience creates an immediate understanding among us. Some of the people I’ll be spending time with have been Chairs since the 1970s. Others, like me, came along later.

The profession gave us the opportunity to meet. Over time, those professional relationships became genuine friendships.

Although I became a Chair in 2003, I didn’t attend my first Keepers gathering until 2019. Looking back, I wish I had started much sooner.

It Wasn’t What I Expected

When I arrived in Boulder that first year, I honestly didn’t know what to expect.

Like most people, I assumed it would feel like another leadership conference—a room full of accomplished Chairs discussing member issues, facilitation techniques, and best practices.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

What I found was remarkably simple.

And remarkably beautiful.

There wasn’t much structure. No one seemed interested in impressing anyone else. There were no presentations designed to showcase expertise or establish credibility.

Someone would simply ask a thoughtful question.

Then we’d begin talking.

Not about business.

About life.

We talked about our families, our marriages, our health, books that had challenged us, experiences that had changed us, the joys we were celebrating, the disappointments we had endured, and the questions we were still trying to answer.

Of course, conversations about our work occasionally surfaced. They always will. Being a Chair is part of who we are.

But it wasn’t why we had come.

What surprised me most wasn’t what we talked about.

It was how we talked with one another.

There was a level of trust and openness that’s increasingly difficult to find. People weren’t trying to prove anything. They weren’t networking. They weren’t performing.

They were simply showing up as themselves – Keepers of the Flame

Many of the people I’d admired from a distance for years suddenly became friends.

Leaving the Business of Business Behind

One of the things I appreciate most about the Keepers is that, for a few days each year, we intentionally leave the business of business behind.

In some ways, it’s the only time all year that I spend several uninterrupted days with people who know me professionally but aren’t particularly interested in talking about business.

Instead, we talk about becoming better husbands and wives, better parents and grandparents, better friends, better neighbors, and better human beings.

Ironically, I think that’s one of the reasons the Keepers of The Flame gathering has had such a profound impact on so many of us.

If we’re going to spend our lives helping other people grow, we have to continue growing ourselves.

The conversations rarely leave me with pages of notes.

They leave me with something much more valuable.

Perspective.

Why Curiosity Doesn’t Retire

One of the things I’ve always admired about this group is that curiosity seems to deepen with age.

Some of the people I’ll be spending time with have been Chairs for nearly fifty years. After all those decades, they’re still asking thoughtful questions. They’re still reading, still learning, still willing to challenge their own assumptions, and still genuinely interested in hearing another person’s perspective.

Watching that gives me hope.

It reminds me that curiosity doesn’t have to diminish with age.

If anything, it seems to grow stronger.

The Beauty of Simple Conversations

I’ve smiled more than once thinking about how uncomplicated these gatherings really are.

As Chairs, many of us spend our professional lives planning meetings, creating agendas, and facilitating discussions.

Keepers of the Flame reminds me that meaningful conversations don’t require elaborate structure.

Usually someone asks a thoughtful question.

The conversation begins.

Stories emerge.

Someone shares a struggle.

Someone else offers a different perspective.

There is laughter.

Occasionally there are tears.

Sometimes there is silence.

Without anyone forcing the process, the conversation naturally goes where it needs to go.

I’ve learned to trust those conversations.

Some of the most meaningful discussions I’ve ever had have taken place around those tables in Boulder.

A Conversation About Legacy

A few years ago, I was asked to facilitate one of our conversations on the subject of personal legacy.

Preparing for that session affected me far more than I expected.

The more I reflected on legacy, the more I realized it isn’t something we leave behind at the end of life. It’s something we create every day through our relationships, our choices, and the way we show up for other people.

When the discussion began, people shared stories that were deeply personal.

Some talked about caring for aging parents.

Others spoke about losing spouses, navigating health challenges, redefining purpose after retirement, and finding meaning in seasons of life they never expected.

Some of those experiences are already behind me.

Many of them, I suspect, still lie somewhere ahead.

As I listened, I realized I wasn’t simply hearing stories.

I was receiving gifts.

These were people who had already traveled roads I have yet to walk.

Their experiences didn’t remove my uncertainty about the future.

They reminded me that whatever lies ahead, someone else has already walked that road.

And they’re willing to help light the way. Keepers of the Flame.

Remembering Don

Every year there is also an empty chair.

This year, I’ll be thinking about my friend, Don Riddell.

Don had a wonderful way of asking questions. You could be halfway through answering before you realized he had gently helped you see something you hadn’t noticed yourself. He never made you feel judged.

He simply made you think.

The last time we gathered, Don, Dick, Diane, and I shared dinner after one of our sessions. Something we have been doing together for years since we went through Chair training together.

Like so many evenings in Boulder, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about it.

We laughed.

Caught up on life.

Talked about our families.

Enjoyed one another’s company.

At the time, it felt like one more enjoyable evening among friends.

Only later did I realize it would be our last.

I’ve thought about that dinner many times since Don passed.

Not because I remember exactly what we talked about.

I remember how I felt.

Funny how memory works.

We often forget the details of conversations.

We rarely forget how someone made us feel.

I still miss Don.

And I’m grateful our paths crossed.

The Road Ahead

As I’ve reflected on this trip, one image keeps coming back to me.

Life feels a little like walking a long road.

Some people are walking beside us.

Others are a little farther ahead.

The Keepers have become those people farther down the road.

They’ve already experienced some of the seasons I have yet to reach.

When I listen to them, I don’t feel like I’m receiving advice.

I feel like the path ahead is being paved by people who genuinely care about me.

I picture them standing farther down the road—not telling me exactly how to make the journey, but cheering me on as I continue walking.

And when I eventually arrive, I can almost picture them welcoming me with a warm smile and a hug.

There’s something deeply comforting about that image.

It reminds me that life was never meant to be lived alone.

Why I Keep Coming Back

As this plane begins its descent into Denver, I find myself feeling grateful.

Grateful that I said yes to becoming a Chair.

Grateful that I finally said yes to attending my first Keepers of the Flame gathering in 2019.

Grateful for conversations that have stretched my thinking.

Grateful for friendships I never expected.

And grateful that, every June, I get to spend a few days with people who remind me that becoming a better human being is a lifelong pursuit.

Over the years, I’ve often told prospective members that Vistage has the power to change lives.

As I sit here reflecting on this trip, it occurs to me that while I’ve spent more than two decades helping CEOs and business owners grow, somewhere along the way I was growing too.

Not because I had all the answers.

But because I was surrounded by remarkable members, extraordinary colleagues, and lifelong friends who challenged me, encouraged me, and quietly helped shape the person I was becoming.

I became a better listener.

A more thoughtful leader.

A more patient husband and father.

A better friend.

And, I hope, a better human being.

That’s a gift I never expected when I became a Chair.

Looking back, I realize the greatest benefit of becoming a Chair wasn’t the career it gave me.

It was the people it brought into my life.

The profession brought us together.

Friendship keeps us together.

Becoming better human beings keeps us coming back.