Okay, we have the same first name: Don.
A former friend of mine yelled at me that I was a poor excuse for a modern Don Quixote.
Many years ago, I attempted to tell Leroy that Carson City was the perfect spot for a Wild West theme park for kids, similar to a miniature Disneyland. Parents would travel from miles around to expose their children to the magical days of yesteryear: the Pony Express, Bonanza, the Virginia City gold rush and the great railroad connecting the East and West.
Leroy had a bundle of money and didn’t know how to invest it. I was doing him a favor. I didn’t have much money, but I had great ideas. It struck me as a perfect match.
I didn’t know whether Leroy was giving me a compliment comparing me to Cervantes’ Don Quixote or considered me a madman doing battle with windmills (before they became a popular source of energy). To me, Don Quixote was honest, dignified and proud – a real idealist of the highest order.
I’ve been waiting for Leroy’s check to come in the mail.
It hasn’t arrived yet. My quixotic dream is still blowing in the wind.