Rebecca and I ate dinner the other night in Los Angeles with Sue Meltzer. Sue and I have been friends and colleagues for almost 30 years. I love Sue as a friend, as a collaborator, and even more importantly, as someone who believed in me at a point in my career that really made a difference. In retrospect, my career … like many successful careers, I expect … fell into place as a result of hard work, lots of luck, and a few amazing people who arrived at just the right place and time.

The first of those people I can recollect was Jim Thomas, a professor from West Georgia College, where I earned my Master’s degree. Jim literally found my first college teaching job for me. He heard of the job opening and said to the school, “Look no further. I have just the person for you. He will be in touch as soon as I can contact him.” With that, my teaching career began.

Henry Moore was another professor from West Georgia who also changed my life … but not my career. Thanks to his sons, David and Bill, and a Dave Brubeck concert in Boston, he introduced me to Rebecca!

German philosopher/theologian, Martin Buber, had a deep influence on my life, though I never met him. (I did study with a colleague of his, Nahum Glatzer, at Boston University.) Buber provided insights into relationship, dialogue, and respect for fellow human beings that formed the foundation of my personal philosophy.

My doctoral dissertation committee at Boston University — Hillary Bender, Dick Rapacz, and Howard Zinn — allowed me to take a ridiculous risk in spite of the hellacious dictatorial hand of University President John Silber. They totally supported my off-the-wall desire to write a dissertation in education on life in the coalfields of central Appalachia. When asked, “But what does that have to do with education?” I would sheepishly answer, “I have no idea, but it feels right and important.” Now that I have worked in the field of water and energy education for the past four decades, the only thing that has changed is the sheepishness. These days, I deliver the same “I have no idea” response with great confidence and pride.

Following my degree, I went to work with a solar energy firm developing solar thermal educational materials where I worked with the graphic arts department at the local vocational high school in Wakefield, MA. Manny Rainha headed the plumbing department there. Manny was one of the kindest, brightest, most engaged teachers I have ever encountered, and he blew me away when he asked if I would keynote the annual meeting of the Massachusetts Association of Plumbing, Heating, and Cooling Contractors. “Why me?” I asked incredulously. “Because you are committed to education and tradespeople,” he said, “and I think you’ll do a great job.”

I researched the role of plumbing in protecting the public health by reading books, visiting the mechanical engineering department at the Smithsonian in Washington DC, and befriending Charlie Manoog from the American Plumbing Museum in Worcester, MA. (On a very coincidental side note, the American Plumbing Museum is now housed in Watertown, MA at the offices of J.C. Cannistraro and Son in the exact same office space where I had the office of The Writing Company for eight years in the 1980s and 90s.) The talk was a hit. Manny had given me a real jolt of confidence, and all of my subsequent work in the water industry grew from that experience.

Not long after that talk, still in the very early 1980s, I attended a meeting of energy educators at a middle school in Lexington, MA. At the end of the meeting, a woman stood and asked a long-shot question: “Might anyone here know of someone who knows about coal and education?” I raised my hand and said, “I suspect that person might be me.” Dena Lehman was the Manager of Education for Boston’s electric company, Boston Edison. We worked together for well over a decade, developing terrific school outreach materials and becoming good, good friends. I was distraught to hear of her early death from cancer.

By 1985, I had started making a reliable living as a writer, but I desperately missed teaching … even though I had no clue what I might be able to teach. Psychology and education were barely visible in the rear-view mirror. I couldn’t really teach writing because I wasn’t really a writer; I was an educator. By then, I was just starting to get comfortable with the idea of calling myself a writer (an illusion I maintain to this day). I knew I couldn’t teach fancy literary stuff, but I could teach the nuts and bolts needs of the business and technical communicator, so I put together a business writing course. Joan Kopolchok from the Human Resources office of the Metropolitan Bay Transportation Authority — the T — liked what I built and gave me a shot. With that, my training career launched. I am now in my 31st year of teaching business and technical communication. Where would my career be today if not for Joan and the T?

Right on the tail of launching my training career, I re-crafted the plumbing talk and the “The Old Farmer’s Almanac” published it. It became my calling card for adding water to The Writing Company’s existing energy education portfolio. Neil Clark (who remains among my closest friends) managed the School Education Program at the Massachusetts Water Resources Authority. Faced with increasing water demands that were stressing the capacity of the entire delivery system, the MWRA wanted to teach high schoolers about the water system, the value of water, and the need for conservation. I put together a small team of educators, and we submitted a proposal. Neil and the Authority gave the contract to us. The program we developed worked. The Conservation Section of the American Water Works Association had the amazing good sense to name “Water Wisdom” the nation’s best school-based water awareness program, thus putting The Writing Company and me on the map. Not only did we get recognized for the work, demands on the MWRA system declined and continue to stay low. “Water Wisdom” was not the reason for the drop in demand. An aggressive leak-detection program coupled with years of improved technology (such as low-water-use toilets, showers, and landscape irrigation equipment) led the charge, but aggressive consumer awareness definitely did not hurt!

With that success, I headed to California, the holy grail of water issues. That is where Sue Meltzer and I met and became friends. Our two stories of how it happened share no common ground, and we have no clue whose memory is less feeble. Sue contends that I made a cold call to her, and she liked me from the outset. (A perfectly plausible story that I rather like.) I contend that the success of “Water Wisdom” and the Camel Award put me on her radar, and she contacted me. She laughs at the very notion!

Regardless, Sue had only recently become a water educator. She taught elementary school, became principal in Santa Monica, and then went to work for a gas company. When the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California decided to start a school education program, Sue found the idea intriguing and landed the job. Developing a social studies-based (rather than science-based) high school-level water awareness program was part of her plan. Immediately upon meeting, our minds melded, and we began work on a program, then called “Water Politics” and now called “Water Currents.” When Sue retired from MWD, our friendship never waned. And “Water Currents” is now getting its fourth major facelift, this one ensuring that it meets the needs of 21st century schools and students. Metropolitan quickly became my most treasured client, and almost 30 years later, it still is … though it and Harvard share the platform together.

When I think of Jim and Manny and Dena and Neil and Joan and Sue — plus so many others I did not mention — I think of amazing people who believed in me, gave me plenty of very loose rein so I could run freely, and with whom I have delivered the most relevant, creative work of my life. I am incredibly fortunate to have encountered each of them, and I am astoundingly grateful for the trust they placed in me.

Good work gang. I love each of you a lot and will always be grateful to you!