Run through the pain. Extend your limits. Establish a new personal best. Recover from this one and map out your training for the next. A few weeks ago I was talking with an ill, elderly friend, and he asked about my kids. I told him one was preparing for a half-marathon on Memorial Day Sunday. His eyes lit up, his voice deepened below a thin tenor, and his cheeks reddened as he asked if I’d heard about his first Boston Marathon, 72 years ago.

Delighted that I had not, he then spun a “It happened yesterday” account of his running the Boston as a callow 17 year old in brand new, leather running shoes, a gift from his father. He’d saved those shoes just for the race itself, not wanting to mar them prior to the big event. As you might have guessed, brand new leathers do not make effective footwear for the tortures of a marathon, and his feet began bleeding by the mid-point. He finished the race, running through pain and bleeding through his shoes which had to be cut from his feet at the finish line.

My daughter, unable to sufficiently train due to a demanding spring work schedule, and with a tender knee, also finished her race this past weekend. No blood. No shoe cutting, but in some pain and grateful for finishing in “acceptable” time.

Both runners ran through pain, extended their limits, and spoke immediately about “the next one.” They shared a kindred spirit of determination, effort, and endurance. They would have liked each other, perhaps enjoyed a slow beer together had they run the same event. My friend died just a few days after telling me about his Boston. My daughter is plotting her next training regimen. Indomitable spirits, both.

Fishing and Fundraising

After two recent fishing trips this spring I realized how similar that activity is to my professional activity of fundraising. In both cases I invest in good equipment, depend on past experience, plan and prepare in significant detail, usually approach the tasks with a partner, and have a success ratio somewhere below that of an average major league baseball hitter (using time spent/fish caught or funds raised). Unfortunately, what passes for "excellent" hitting for the Red Sox or Yankees does not put fish on the plate or funds in the Operations Account.

Regardless of the limited success rates for both fishing and fundraising, I start out making plans with renewed enthusiasm and expectations of success. "This brook will provide our limit of trout!" or "This donor will decide to invest in our scholarship program." I suppose the explanation for that anticipation lies not in my naivete, but rather in the occasionally major rewards from each activity. On my den walls I have a 4 lb smallmouth bass and a 14" native brook trout as evidence of that, and in my office files I have letters announcing enduring support from a few very major donors.

It's May. The fishing season has just begun in earnest, and we are just three months from wrapping up our fiscal year. My tackle is ready, and I've got some calls to make!

April is National Poetry Month. Perhaps that’s because in spring creativity spurts with the buds, or maybe it’s about young men’s fancies, or maybe it was the only month left. In any case, it’s an opportunity to read again, share with others, seek new works. Ruth Stone. Wordsworth. Billy Collins. Shakespeare. Taylor Mali. Maya Angelou. Dr. Suess. Langston Hughes. Robert Frost. Seek a poem. Read it. Read it again. Read it aloud. Read it aloud to someone. Feel the rhythm, see the images, hear the sounds of the words making new meaning in new ways.

We are not here merely to make a living. We are here to enrich the world.
-------Woodrow Wilson

Ten days ago our Board Chair, Steve Waltien died. Yesterday we had our quarterly Board Meeting without him. We began with a still disbelieving moment of silence and ended with an uplifting focus on the emerging Stern Center 2020 Vision, a collective reminder of what lay at the core of Steve’s nine-year passion for the Stern Center and its work. In between, Board Members and staff moved forward with that work, much of the business conducted within the poignant, tacit memories of Steve at the center of similar conversations. It is sometimes easy to forget that all these Board members participate because of their common vision, their shared passion for ensuring literacy and learning for all, while at the same time, they have their own work, their own passions, and their own lives. Yesterday reminded me of that, as each person in the room struggled with a sense of loss and sought the grace to continue to enrich the world.

Stevenson H. Waltien, Jr. died Saturday. The state, the community, and the Stern Center lost a great friend and champion. Steve was a community treasure eager to share his time and talents to ensure the greater good. For nine years we at the Stern Center have been blessed to be one of Steve’s passions of service. Through his powerful regard for learning, his welcoming good humor, and his enthusiasm for our mission, Steve brought personal and professional strength to his role on the Board and most recently to his role as Board Chair.

Steve was about improving lives, and we are all the better for his having helped do that through the Stern Center. The image I will carry is from just last week when he slapped me on the back and gave me thumbs-up as we parted after a meeting.

The seduction, promise, and power of reading are brought to charmingly funny life by Alan Bennett in The Uncommon Reader. Bennett, an acclaimed playwright, posits what might happen if the Queen of England were to become and insatiable reader, changing her habits, her relationships, even her world view. Michiko Kakutani, reviewing for the New York Times, October 30, 2007, describes the novella as, “a witty meditation on the subversive pleasures of reading.” Kakatuni is on target. This little book is delightful on all levels. Enjoy it and then share it. Have a dictionary at hand!

Summer Surprise! 75 degrees on April 2 in Vermont shocks us all. It’s as if we are powerless to resist binging on sunny warmth. T-shirts, flip-flops, shorts, sunglasses, convertibles, motorcycles, chaise lounges, dinner al fresco, reading on the deck. All the more delicious for the wait and knowing that in April it’s ephemeral.