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Every Challenge Is An Opportunity

I was standing in front of a man I’d never met, and an incomparable view of the Grand Tetons. I’d arrived the night before as his home had been volunteered for a few guests attending his son Steve’s first Jackson Hole Institute meeting.

“Good morning, I’m Jeanne,” I said.

“Hello, I’m Foster. It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said; “Can I get you some breakfast?”

“No; thank you, that’s not necessary. But do you have coffee?”

“Well I think we can find some for you!”

Coffee in hand, he showed me around their beautiful home. As we gazed at the sight he gave me his business card – which featured a gigantic moose standing on a covered hot tub. “He was on that one right there. Isn’t that something?,” he said. It was breathtaking, all of it.

“Thank you for having me,” I said.

His response? “Don’t thank me, thank God.” From then on, I was hooked.

A few minutes later, as if we were old friends, he invited me into his study. He started opening mail and telling me what was in the notes he received. “Well this is something,” he said, as he read me a handwritten note from U.S. Senator Tom Carper, thanking him for his recent $100,000 gift to the Boy Scouts. Then I learned about his relationship with Carper, and many more people who wrote notes, all from people thanking an accomplished man for his generosity, when in actuality, he believed – no, he knew – it was simply part of what God wanted him to do.

So it is really hard to mourn for a man who knew precisely what he was doing and for whom he was doing it. Rather, I mourn for his family and friends and even those, like me, whose potential for yet more incomparable opportunities with him are no more.

Foster Friess was beyond generous, and irresistibly pleasant. The few encounters we had were more impactful than some relationships I’ve had over a lifetime.

Like the time he sent his plane to rescue me and my 4 tired children, after getting lost in Yellowstone park en route to his ranch in Cody, WY. The only way to exit the park at that time would have been to drive back in the pitch black 9 hours to the other side.

On a pay phone in a parking lot with the kids running around in circles, I explained to him how we were stuck, couldn’t leave, and that the long drive through the dark with young children wasn’t a viable option.  “Foster, I’m so sorry. I had no idea the exit was closing at 8. What should I do?”

“Jeanne, every challenge is an opportunity,” he said, as he got a hold of his pilot, Craig, on the phone, and instructed us where to go to meet the plane. A few hours later, we were being escorted by a colorful ranch manager to his place, a gift from his family the prior year upon learning that my husband had died. Extraordinary.

Then there was the time that the leadership of the education choice movement was gathered in Jackson Hole, WY. Education pioneer Virginia Walden-Ford was telling the story of the success of the Opportunity Scholarship Program that she successfully helped become law after years of hard work and advocacy. Tiffany would be graduating from Archbishop Carroll, thanks to the DC OSP, and was valedictorian, something no one in her family could ever have dreamed of happening without that scholarship. Tiffany was college bound – the first in her family – but the funds were simply not there to cover it all. Virginia was saying that she knew it would turn out okay, expressing her thanks to all those who supported her work so that her own son, as well as Tiffany, and hundreds like them could succeed.

Suddenly, Foster stood up and shouted out that he’d pay for Tiffany’s first year of college. A new friendship was born, and Tiffany not only graduated college, but today is an accomplished PhD doing cancer research.

Foster made you feel like you mattered. He learned I had married again and mentioned he wanted to meet my new husband. So during a brief visit to Jackson, I called him to see if he had a few minutes. Instead, he suggested we spend the day on his boat (and upon learning Kevin was an avid boater, let him Captain the voyage). We sat in the back and talked about the world. As the day came to an end and we already felt like we had hogged all his time, he asked if we liked to dance. As we learned that night and as many have observed, he was a pro on the dance floor, and joked that I needed to learn how to follow his lead.

When you ran into Foster, he’d always find a way to let you know that no matter how large his network or vast his interests at the time, you were worthy of his attention.

The last time I saw him was in a hotel lobby in Washington. Foster gave me an enormous bear hug, and turning to his guests, introduced me as “the woman who knows more about education than anyone else in this country.” I was flattered, but said no, that’s not true. Just accept it, he said smiling. It’s God’s gift.

It’s hard to believe Foster Friess is gone from this earth. My heart goes out to Lynn and the family, whose loss is profound. For myself, I can think of no better tribute to Foster than to follow his lead, honoring the example God so generously modeled for us. And to treat every challenge as an opportunity.

Rest in peace, sweet Foster.