Hi everyone, this will be the last post of 2021 (I’ll be back on January 3rd), and it might be a little more personal and disjointed than other posts, apologies in advance. As the year ends, I try to find time to reflect back on what happened these past 12 months, and what lessons we could glean so that we can improve ourselves and our sector. But I am very tired. I don’t want to learn anything, except maybe that sweat pants and pajama bottoms should be perfectly acceptable to wear to the office from now on.
This year was hell. The last several years were hell. A weird, surreal sort of hell. Amidst this pandemic, I was going through a divorce while supporting loved ones dealing with addiction and various mental health challenges. Rifling through my brain brings random memories, one of me trying to figure out how to help my seven-year-old with his remote math assignment while his four-year-old brother was standing on our porch screaming at strangers, “You’re not wearing your masks! There’s coronavirus! Put your masks on!”
Hi everyone, happy December. I do a lot of speaking, and a question I get asked often is “If you could go back in time to earlier in your career, what would you tell your younger self?” This is when you know that you are getting old, when people ask you this question. It is a badge of hard-earned wisdom. So, here, in no particular order, are a few things I would tell myself, gathered from experience and failures in the field, and from working with much smarter people:
Hi everyone, the weather is finally nice in Seattle, so I want to finish this blog post quickly and take my kids to the playground. They are growing up fast, and I know there will come a day when they will stop asking me to take them to the playground. Apologies in advance if this post is not as eloquent or have as many citations as might be expected of this topic.
If you’re in fundraising and on social media, chances are you’ve been following this situation. I am so grateful for all the colleagues who are calling out problematic behaviors, asking for our sector to be better, to be more aligned with equity and justice. Because, frankly, I am very tired. My friends at Community-Centric Fundraising and I did not ask to be dragged into this battle. We were all minding our own business. I was watching “Waffles and Mochi” with my kids, learning about how potatoes are cooked in a huatia.
Hi everyone, this post may be more personal than what I am used to sharing on this blog. Yesterday, my little sister Linda texted me “please don’t freak out cuz I’m fine and home now.” She had tested positive for COVID two days before, was recovering, and then suddenly had to be taken to the ER because of pneumonia, high fever, and high blood pressure. She knew I was going to freak out so didn’t tell me she was in the ER. (I got her permission to share all this).
This year has been one unending series of awfulness. I have been trying to put on a brave face, but it’s been rough. I am supporting another family member who has been dealing with alcohol addiction, and others who have depression or other mental health challenges or who are experiencing severe isolation and loneliness.
Hi everyone, real quick before I get into today’s topic—since the launching of the Community-Centric-Fundraising movement a month ago, the team in Seattle has been excited but also overwhelmed by the incredible response from you all! Thank you for your patience as we sort out the logistics. More is coming, including a meeting to discuss the creation of local CCF chapters (it’ll likely be on 8/20 at 12pm PT, sign up for the mailing list if you haven’t so we can send you more details).
A few months ago, I left my job after being an ED for 13 consecutive years across two organizations. “How does it feel to be retired?” people would ask. “I’m not retired,” I would joke, “I’m Financially Untethered, aka FU!” (This was before the pandemic, when I still had a sense of humor). It was a needed sabbatical, and I was looking forward to recharging by re-watching Avatar: The Last Airbender, Battlestar Galactica, and The Golden Girls.
One day, I got an email from Angie Kim, President & CEO of the Center for Cultural Innovation. “I’m wondering if you have a soft landing? Can our work (www.ambitio-us.org) potentially fund you, give you a business card, and act as a platform so that you continue to be in the field in ways that might work for you?”
Through our conversations over the following months, I got to understand what Angie meant by “soft landing.” This is what conservatives do for their leaders. They provide them with support to ensure that their work continues. If a right-wing pundit gets fired or leaves their position, you can be sure the conservative movement will rally around them, help them get a new job, a slot on Fox News, a post at a research institute, a book deal, a litigation lawyer, a spot on Dancing with the Stars, or whatever. They understand that their most effective leaders are their greatest weapon, so they do everything they can to protect and invest in them and their ideas.