The Olympics. Perhaps each nation's media coverage revels as much as ours in the depth and breadth of adversity overcome by our quadrennial heroes. Childhood poverty, single parents and battling parents, pre-dawn practice hours, injuries and surgeries, difficulty in school, a variety of hidden, personal sacrifices offered on the altar of athletic success. At some point yesterday while watching one more such colorful commentary meant to make heroes more human, it occurred to me that these stories of surmounting obstacles sounded much like those I've been collecting since joining the Stern Center. The difference is that the Stern Center stories are about struggling learners, hours of slogging through efforts to read and learn, to compete with one's peers, eventually to mount the medal podium of learning success. The pain endured, the sacrifices made by individuals and their families, the conviction that success is possible, and the joy at achievement are the same for the Olympians as for the father and son who recently told their respective stories to a ballroom full of appreciative admirers. As each took his turn at the podium there was no medal draping, but we smiled and applauded their victories just the same.

Last Friday I dropped by Herb’s house. I meet with Herb every few weeks just to keep in touch, seek his perspective and look for advice. I first met Herb when I was fourteen. He was a neurologist, stern, intimidating, almost frightening…and the father of my girlfriend. Thirty-six years later I met Herb again and struggled at first not to revert to being 14. This time around, however, our relationship was about work, not puppy love. Herb is an Honorary Board Member of the Stern Center, and I had just been hired to what eventually became the role of Development Director. Herb’s passion for the Stern Center is focused on his dedication to our Scholarship Program. Last Friday I stopped by to bring him a DVD of our most recent fundraising event, the Gene Richards Roast. Herb has delighted and then launched into detailed questions about how much we raised, which accounts would receive the money, and what our plans are for making continued progress on our goals for the year. He’d been reading the Wall Street Journal and New York Times both of which continue to offer daunting diagnoses for the economy; serious challenges to Herb’s mission of raising funds for our scholarships.

Herb’s own diagnosis is even more serious. He is 87 years old and battling cancer, but neither of those factors has diminished his spirit for the Stern Center. I visit Herb hoping to offer him an ongoing link for that spirit, and I leave feeling inspired, confident that despite any recent disappointments we’ll figure this out and the Scholarship Program will thrive. Thirty-six years ago I didn’t even make eye contact with Herb; today, every few weeks I listen intently, heed his advice, and share a laugh. Thanks, Herb.

VT Nonprofit Day

The annual Nonprofit Day at the VT Legislature yesterday was a little like a family reunion without the occasional tensions inherent to holiday gatherings. One of the charms of Vermont is that those of us who have lived and worked here for years (decades in my case) periodically reconnect, revive, and recommit to our relationships, our passions, and our life’s work. Yesterday was another such opportunity. Between the Legislators and other elected officials, the nonprofit attendees, and other guests from the End Childhood Hunger campaign, it felt a bit like “This is Your Life.” Blending with conversations about my current role at the Stern Center for Language and Learning were accounts from my earliest days teaching English at Richford High School, my first stint as school principal at Berkshire Elementary School, the six years I worked for the US Department of Education, and my more recent years as principal of the Albert D. Lawton Intermediate School in Essex Junction. In a mere five hours at the State House nearly every phase of my adult, professional life was represented by at least one person! Perhaps this is not as unique as it seems, but I’d like to claim it as “Made in Vermont.” It was truly an example of the State House being the People’s House.