A couple of days ago I found myself defending the importance of legacy giving. It was during a conversation with someone outside of the fundraising industry, so the easy assumptions I usually make weren’t there to support my case.

“Why is legacy giving important?” she asked.

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I was a good student. It gave me many advantages in life – scholarships for travel and more education, and a now unnecessary understanding of trigonometry. But once out of school, my good grades may have been a hindrance.

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The second year I was away from home working, my first real job after university, I had a moment.

I remember exactly where I was when it happened – I was sitting on the floor of my tiny apartment – the one I was so proud of because it was affordable and all mine – and I’d been tidying up, probably in preparation to go home for Christmas, but maybe because that’s how I seem to live my life – all my stuff explores all over the place and periodically I have to go stuff it back in place, reigning it in to some kind of livability.

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I was 9 when my mother and I last worked for the same boss. I was a paperboy for the Winona Daily News and my mother wrote a weekly column called “Whimsey.” She shared observations on life in a small town, being the wife of a pastor and mother of 6 children. Her quips then included thoughts on the topics of marriage, work and school. Read more

When my father suggested he had a plan for the newsletter, I was a little bit hesitant. Inviting my grandmother to be an author on our blog didn’t look anything like what other people in business were doing – which, being a newbie to the business building thing – was often my yardstick.

Cautiously optimistic, I agreed. I am not very good at doing what everyone else is doing anyway. Read more

When you reach truly advanced age you are either “just fine” or you are dead.

No one wants a casual enquiry about one’s health to have a three page response, a litany of what doesn’t work, is slowing down, or causing sleepless nights.

Trying to be wise as well as old I have consciously opted for the “just fine” response to casual conversations. Read more

So here is another adage that has become a truism: as we age our bodies eventually begin to betray us… Read more

Fingers curl with arthritis. Muscle mass disappears faster than a burger from a gobbling teenager’s hand. Minds become so full of what has happened there is no room left to remember what we were doing or why we even entered into the room in the first place.

My mother said, “Getting old is not for the faint of heart.”

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Have you experienced a shuddering case of couldas, wouldas, shouldas in your life lately?

Or have you endured a frightful time of head shaking and mournfully wondering why, oh why did I do that? Or more depressing, why, oh why didn’t I do that? Read more

Those pesky TV ads regarding toothpaste and whiter-than-white teeth are sort of true. Even though my smile bears testimony to a lifelong addiction to Earl Grey tea and cola, I boast the whitest, brightest bristles on my toothbrush.

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