Long friendships are anchored in identity
Most Dialogue Miles™ conversations happen on foot. This one happened in a chair, over coffee and a donut at Oakmont Bakery in Pittsburgh.
I first met Paul Lackner in the mid-’90s, not long after my family moved to Pittsburgh. Paul was a native Pittsburgher, and he helped me get my bearings in a city that was still new to us. We were raising young families, navigating unpredictable careers, and finding our footing in the YPO forum. Over the years, we’ve traded lessons, laughter, and more than a few stories about the world and our place in it.
What stands out most about Paul is how easy it is to pick up right where we left off. There’s no warm-up required. No need for surface-level chatter. When we meet, we move straight into family, the economy, technology, mutual friends, and whatever else is on our minds, with the kind of ease that only comes from decades of real conversation.
Thirty years in, that's the thing I keep noticing: life feels more manageable when you stay close to the people who truly know you.
A few reflections from our time together:
The best leaders refine rather than replace. Paul is an exceptional golfer, and what I’ve always appreciated is how he helps other people play better. He doesn’t try to rebuild your swing. He notices what’s already working and helps you refine it. He once watched me hit an old persimmon 3-wood off the tee and simply asked, “Why?” Many leaders spend their time trying to change people. The better ones identify what’s natural in someone and help them become a more effective version of themselves.
The absence of an agenda is what protects the depth. Over the years, Paul and I have occasionally talked about working together. It never happened, and that’s perfectly fine. Some friendships are valuable precisely because there’s no transaction attached. That’s what keeps the honesty intact.
Trust is built in unhurried places. That morning was relaxed. No conference table. No agenda. No pressure to get somewhere. Just two old friends in worn chairs with warm coffee, talking honestly. We spend so much of life trying to make things faster and more efficient, but trust is usually built in the opposite kind of space: informal, patient, and human.
Long friendships are anchored in identity. Paul and I don’t talk every week, because we don’t need to. The friendship holds because of who we are to each other. When we reconnect, we return instantly to the same level.
Who is someone you’ve known long enough to tell you the truth without needing anything in return?
