6710 Grand

  Every Monday I drive to work.   I stop on the way to a grocery store that donates near expired produce 3 times a week to the sanctuary.   I load up sometimes 400 pounds of produce into my car—apples, bananas, greens, tomatoes, melons, squash, peppers—anything and everything.   When I get to work, I drive it out to Duncan’s barn.   Duncan was a 1200 pound pig who passed away almost 2 years ago.   He was about 12 at the time—quite elderly for a pig.   The barn carries his name as a tribute.   Everyone loved him, including my son, who met him when he was almost 2.   He would crawl into Duncan’s bed with him while he napped, press his face to Duncan’s snout and just jabber on about whatever he wanted Duncan to know.   In his wisdom, Duncan would snort, open his eyes, snort a bit more, sniff and snort some more, just taking it all in.   I miss him. The boxes of produce are sorted into what can and cannot be eaten and placed in a tin-lined closet.   Every Monday, without fail, as I’m sor

Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Inhale exhale. Ok, now I’m not quite so frustrated or angry anymore. Let me explain: I don’t like to brag, so I’m not bragging.   I am a highly educated, highly qualified, professional non-profit fundraiser.   I have 2 bachelor’s degrees, an executive MBA, and a certificate in fundraising management.   My brain is worth $200,000 and I have the student debt to prove it.   I have been doing what I’m doing for nearly 20 years.   I’ve raised tens of millions of dollars for national and local organizations.   All that to say, I know what I’m doing.   And yet, every so often, I recognize that it’s helpful to get an outsider’s opinion.   Someone who’s never heard of me or my organization.   Someone who has experience in a different area of business or fundraising or non-profit management.   I don’t pretend to know it all.   I felt this way about my recent effort to seek corporate support for our fall fundraising event, ThanksLiving.   It’s, without