Russell was a man with a duck (ask me why)

I clicked on “connect” on LinkedIn when I saw that Russell Bekins and I were probably competitors in the same tiny market. He wrote back almost immediately:

“We do a lot of the same the things, maybe we should get together”

And we did. We met on an unusually sunny day in October of 2019, sipping coffee at an outdoor café on the edge of Piazza Verdi.

As it turned out we are both Americans transplanted in Bologna for decades, living a stone’s throw apart. And we had never met. LinkedIn told us we had a crowd of common acquaintances.

We talked about our respective freelance businesses, and I marveled at how one person could do all the things he was doing. He was bubbling with ideas, and he promised to send me a book he had written for the MBA students he was teaching about creativity and personal branding.

I was overwhelmed and frankly a little confused. His work and his mind went everywhere at once. But you cannot cross paths with Russell without wanting to be a part of that whirlwind.

His life was like the stories he taught us to tell: full of hooks that begged the question: now what? And you couldn’t wait to hear the next twist to the plot.

So, I asked him to join our tiny group of trainers that would soon be more than a troupe of adorable characters.

The pandemic cooled things down for everyone in the training space. We still hadn’t done any actual courses together, but we planned and planned.

We were dumbfounded at how to survive as trainers of public speaking when we couldn’t meet in public. We all learned to train online and started getting really good at it. We knew we could fill a need by teaching others to do so as well.

In September of 2020, Russell brought a carful of equipment and an assistant(!) so we could make YouTube videos in my living room. He taught us about greenscreen, and Baraah dressed up in a green suit to make objects seem to float around Russell and Turan. We laughed until we cried. He was great with the video – but we couldn’t get his audio to work. We combined our skills and our equipment, and it foreshadowed the way our collaboration would work for the years to come.

I think Russell would have liked to become a partner in #Wordworks, but he hinted that it wasn’t a good fit for him. I was doubtful too. Russell was a seasoned academic. He referred to training sessions as “classes” and participants as “students”. And his classes were mix of well-documented, lengthy lectures and boisterous groupwork – perfect for MBA students but often too much information for our business clients.

So we tried training together. And the contrast of our laser-focused training, mine and Turan’s and Baraah’s with Russell’s academic style turned out to be a perfect combination.

Don’t get me wrong – he lectured, but his lectures were hilarious. Nobody ever minded when he went overtime. Except me – at my insistence he tried to stick to time limits – a little.

Alessia turned his gray, wordy slides into works of art. He was so excited to use them! He called and wrote to thank her over and over again. I watched the whole team blossom as we wove together our diverse knowledge and experience. We debated about habits we hadn’t questioned in years.

It was good for us, but it wasn’t easy! As the differing styles clashed, so did tempers. Russell never liked the reduced times of business courses, and his sprawling storytelling ignored planned session timing. That drove Baraah crazy more than once.

But they always found peace. Because Russell was an endearing time-hog.

These past years since we really started working together have been precious for us as a team. Russell’s intellect and creativity have been both glue and catalyst. His unrelenting generosity brought us to debate, collaborate, combine and grow.

And change.

Russell will be sorely missed, but he left us a legacy of more than just memories. He left a legacy of thought, ideas, that book draft that is still sitting on my desk. I will remember him as the one who would always show up— even when he was sickest in these past few weeks – with a smile and a goofy comment or ridiculous hat.

I will strive to be more like Russell, and I am comforted that he has touched literally thousands of lives with his joy and his art and his stories.

As usual, he’s got us all asking: “now what?”

-Lisa

Russell Bekins, WordWorks' expert in Personal Branding, Persuasion, Storytelling and Visual Thinking --and our amazing friend-- died on March 5th, 2025. He will live on in our work and in our hearts.