Eulogy for Joan Hayes Conklin 1934 - 2018

My mother, Joan, was born at midsummer in 1934, the only child of two first generation Irish-Americans, Catherine Murray and John Hayes. She lived through turbulent, troubled, and halcyon times--and she was a true daughter of those times.

Things long considered immutable and unchanging: Marriage until death do you part, a woman's place is in the home and only in the home, an expectation that you will live the life your parents lived--all those assumptions fell apart during my mother's lifetime. Each of those revolutions was reflected in her life.

A teenage bride, she brought three children into the world, saw her first marriage end, and entered the work world before she turned twenty-five. Much as she loved us, her desire to live, to experience, to love and to be
loved kept her searching for more.

Balancing was among her greatest skills. Balancing the family books, balancing the needs of her children with her own, balancing her conviction that life was to be lived against her deep desire to be a dutiful daughter living within the narrow confines of her parents' world--she was always balancing.

The needs of her children made her brave beyond her own imagining. So many times, I heard her say, "I don't know where I got the courage to do that." She took us through hard times, armed with nothing more than a joke. She had a novel way of dressing up a story. With it, she kept us from dwelling on hardships.

No car? Not a problem. She'd say, "We'll all walk to the grocery store together and buy just enough to fill four bags. That way, each of us can carry one.

As we walked down the short cut path between the houses, we'd string out behind her, each moving at our own pace. To cover the need to slow down a bit so Maureen, the littlest, could catch up, she once put her bag down, turned around, and watched us coming after her. "Don't we look like a mother duck and her ducklings on their way to the pond! Shall we turn left on Woodland and go for a swim?" Of course, we didn't; but she lightened the mood and gave everyone a chance to catch their breath.

A talented seamstress, she made both of  my prom dresses. The were one-of-a-kind creations that we never could have afforded on her secretary's salary. What I didn't know--what she kept to herself as she sewed on the dining room table late into the night--was that we couldn't afford to buy an off-the-rack dress. I felt like Cinderella...and I felt sorry for the poor girls whose mothers didn't sew.

Mom was her own woman, one created in the crucible of the war, its aftermath, and the social upheaval of the sixties and seventies. Yet, she never stopped being the child of her very traditional parents. It pained her deeply that following her own path created was what sometimes a bitter division between them. I think that is a large part of the reason she loved the painting called The Madonna of the Streets and identified with Mary Magdalene. Like the Madonna, she sheltered her children from the storm. Like Mary Magdalene, she poured out what she held dear at the feet of her beloved.

The kind of storybook romance she longed for eluded her for most of her life--but she never gave up hope and she never stopped trying. Finally, in 1978, she met Don Conklin. In him she found her prince--and, I like to think, in her he found his princess.

Their marriage wasn't perfect. But their thirty years together were among the  happiest in her life--and, I would like to think, in his. They loved each other for what they were, they accepted each other's imperfections, and they stretched to be there for one another when the chips were down.

As I wrote to my brother, Kevin, on Monday, "I imagine Don with his hand outstretched, waiting to welcome her to the after-life." Although it will be very sad to lay her in the ground in a little while, I will be comforted that she is lying next to Don. She has been lonely for him these last ten years. I like to think of her smiling up at him now, as she takes his hand.

She Works Hard For A Living

It's  not easy to come down from a sixty hour work week. The deadline is past--things went either well or poorly. Most likely, they fell somewhere in between. The work piled up for next week isn't at such a boil--yet--that you can't have a little bit of a weekend. For the moment, life should be good.

But there you are, vibrating like a plucked harp string, your mind whirring, your inner eye ceaselessly scanning, trying to locate the thing you forgot, replaying the trajectory of the just-finished project, following an endless loop of couldda/wouldda/shouldda. The maze of next steps fans out in all directions. Metaphorically, you've run as far and as fast as you are able, but--damn--that horizon isn't even close.

"Relax," everyone says. "Enjoy the weather, take time to stop and smell the roses." You would if you could. But just like in the aftermath of those ancient acid trips, you're not quite returned to what we are pleased to call reality. You can't quite focus, but you're not quite unfocused either.

It's not an entirely terrible situation. There is a slightly bizarre sense of pride--in your stamina, your ability to deliver, maybe even in the results themselves. "I've still got it," you think, even as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, too tired, too revved up to sleep.

Others may or may not appreciate what you just pulled off. Really, it makes only a passing difference whether they do or not, because you do. Making a way out of no way--that's what you'd put on your coat of arms, if you had one. I think of this phase of decompression as the adrenaline after-glow.

What makes this particular ending different from the many that have gone before? Two things, really.

The first is that my organization has a pretty good and pretty well-deserved reputation for honoring work/life balance. We work hard and there's always way, way too much to do. But we also acknowledge that our staff have lives outside of the office. Even though I've got two other projects ready to pop and a mountain of day-to-day work screaming for attention, I can count on getting the response I got when I declined a meeting set for late next week. "Of course you should take time off!"

The second is more subtle, more personal. It's where I am in my career curve.

I've been in this fugue state before, but when I was marooned here in the past, I always knew the road ahead was endless. This just completed project would be followed by another and another and another. Rinse and repeat...for decades. There were undertones of Sartre's No Exit to the space between.

That's not the case any more. There are still years stretching out before me, yes, but no longer decades. Retirement--the thing older workers are never supposed to admit they think about for fear of being labelled tired and spent--is out there. Being able to see it is adding a kind of exhilaration to moving from the altered reality of the deadline to the more rational reality of the interlude between this one and the next.

There's nothing golden about retirement, not in twenty-first century America. But the fact of it, it's new reality, it's unexpected tangibility--I find those things change the horizon in surprising ways.

Instead of feeling myself to be on a forced march from one mountain top to the next, I'm beginning to be able to imagine there is a wide, broad valley beyond these jagged peaks. I'm beginning to be able to imagine rolling hills. What will that be like, I wonder.

Are Charitable Deductions on the Chopping Block?

I would have written this differently if I hadn't written it for the finance department intranet page, but the issue is important enough that I'm adding it to my personal blog post haste. The thing I didn't do in  my workplace post was issue a Call to Action. But on my own blog, I feel fine about advocating: Visit the Independent Sector's advocacy page and find out how you can protect the lifeblood of your favorite charity.

 Are Charitable Deductions on the Chopping Block?

Given that our personal livelihoods, our mission, and the viability of our sector all depend on charitable gifts, that is a question guaranteed to perk up our ears. It’s been on the table before and beaten back. But, with the heightened attention politicians are giving to national, state, and city deficits, the issue is in the spotlight once again. Some policy makers, including some in the Obama administration, are looking very hard at what the government would gain by phasing out or significantly limiting the tax deduction for charitable contributions.

Diane Aziz, president of the Independent Sector, wrote an opinion piece for the Chronicle of Philanthropy in July that compared this rising interest to a tsunami. In her commentary, she cites analysis predicting that if the deduction were wiped out entirely, charitable contributions would drop 25% to 36% annually.  A less drastic alternative, proposed by the White House, calls for capping the dollar value of contributions eligible for the deduction.  While that sounds like a moderate position, Ms. Aziz quickly points out that when someone gives $1,000 to a charity, the entire value of the donation–all $1,000–goes to work in the community. Meanwhile, the deduction only generates $350 in “lost” tax revenue.  As she says, “The federal government is unlikely to find another approach that can attract private spending for community services at a nearly 3 to 1 ratio.”

The fact that the benefits embedded in that math are lost on many was evident in a meeting  held with nonprofit organizations on September 9.  At that meeting, White House staff indicated that the Administration will make sure that nonprofits can take advantage of the hiring tax credits in the American Jobs Act, but also said that the President’s recommendations to pay for the jobs package will include a cap on tax deductions – including the charitable deduction – for high income taxpayers.

Ms. Aziz also connects the dots to actions being taken at the city and state level.  She points out that since 2000, 117 cities and 18 states have asked nonprofits to make voluntary payments to make up for exemptions from property and other taxes, according to the Lincoln Institute of Land Policy, and this trend will probably intensify as budget pressures mount in states and cities everywhere. If that weren’t chilling enough, Ms. Aziz reports that as she and her colleagues make the rounds of Capitol Hill, they find great support among our elected representatives for the work that non-profits do, but little understanding that non–profits are small (and not so small) businesses that collectively employ 10% of their constituents.

Lest I leave you dispirited and downcast, let me be quick to add that as part of their campaign to protect the charitable deduction, the Independent Sector has built a very nice toolkit of information  on why the charitable deduction is important to re-building our communities. If you like sound bite statistics that will amaze your listeners, the one pager on the charitable deduction is the thing to read, as is the FAQ. After reading both documents, I still can’t say that I can respond to the request for those interested to write an op-ed for their local paper, but at least I am  prepared to have a fact-based conversation with fiscally conservative friends.

Driving Traffic - The Office Intranet

Among the things I've taken on at my new job is driving traffic to our Finance and HR intranet pages. Neither is exactly a high spot for our employees and both should be. By way of showing you all what I've been doing with my "spare" work time, I thought I'd put two of my better posts here for your amusement. Not exactly the Great American Novel, but still a welcome creative interlude.

The Ghost of Christmas Past – Annual Performance Reviews

Posted by J.C. Braun on July 7th, 2011 at 8:44 am

     
The annual performance review cycle always feels a little like the visit of the Ghost of Christmas Past in Dickens’ great work, A Christmas Carol. The accomplishments question isn’t usually too bad, the strengths question is only mildly disconcerting. It’s the “areas to develop” question that causes everything from a mild case of butterflies to outright apoplexy.

    
From the Human Resource perspective, the issue is always, “How do we set up an honest dialogue that focuses on the individual’s development path?” From the employee’s perspective, the unspoken concern is, “What can I say that doesn’t reflect too badly on me?” From the supervisor’s perspective the question that haunts is, “How do I phrase this so that Jane or Mike hears me without getting defensive?”

     
What I think we all miss in this is the opportunity that is offered in this part of the review–I miss it as much as anybody. This is the chance to break out of the rut and reach for the sky. Need help with making presentations? Ask for it and work with your supervisor to develop a plan to build that skill. If you’re already a star at analysis, you’re not going to suddenly forget how to analyze simply because you focus on creating a compelling presentation and delivering it with aplomb. But one thing is sure…no amount of extra focus on analysis is going to build your presentation skills.

    
Steve Tobac is a BNET blogger whose work I sometimes like. His January post, What’s the One Thing Limiting Your Success? is a good refresher on why working on the less developed parts of your professional skill set has real benefit–sometimes well beyond the workplace. Not only is it helpful in dealing with the “areas for development” question on the annual review, it is also a great way to prep for building your goals for the new year.

    
What am I focusing on in my “areas for development” discussion? Fair question. Recently, an organizational consultant with whom we has been working asked a few of us to take a quick assessment test called The 5 Dynamics. Its goal is to analyze the ways people work so that teams can understand how their different members process and act. Of the 5 dynamics–Explore, Excite, Examine, Execute, Evaluate–my least strong area is Excite. In other words, I find it easy to develop ideas, easy to kick their tires, and easy to deliver results. But…getting other people excited about those things? Not as easy. I’ve been thinking about that since taking the assessment test and wondering about how to build that skill. Sounds like a growth point, doesn’t it?

Youth Before Age? Not Where Investing is Concerned.

Posted by J.C.Braun on June 27th, 2011 at 12:57 pm

    
One of the great challenges of my job is inventing ways to keep people from tuning out as soon as I mention certain words. Retirement is one of those words. Nevertheless, I beat the drum as loudly and creatively as I can, as often as I can.

    
It seems that younger workers in America, insofar as they are taking advantage of 401(k) plans at all, are skewing ultra-conservative in the choices they make about where to store their salary deferrals and their employer contributions. The fact is, they’re making more conservative investment choices than their grandparents! A full 59% of 18 – 34 year olds surveyed by Braun Research (no relation) favor low to moderate risk investments (cash, bonds, etc). Even survey participants who were 65 and older were more risk tolerant than these youngest investors.

     
What’s wrong with conservatism, you might ask. Nicholas LaVergetta, a certified financial planner, sees plenty wrong with it. He says, “It’s important…to consider the impact of inflation and taxes.” Meaning: If you park your money in the ultra-safe money market fund, you can feel good about your principal remaining intact, but you won’t see it grow. Meanwhile, everything else–from gas to the cost of a college education for the kids in 20 years–is going up. Result: You still have the dollar you put aside, but it buys a heck of a lot less than it did the day you stashed it in that money market fund.

     
Some skeptical conservatives forego using 401(k)s entirely because they have so little faith in the market. At first blush, that may not seem like such a bad idea, given the volatility of the last several years. But with a _% employer match in play, opting out really does amount to cutting off your nose to spite your face. What the match does is give you an immediate 100% return on every dollar you put into the 401(k), up to _% of your salary. Where else do you see returns like that? Prudence certainly suggests that the smart thing to do, even if you are totally down on the stock market, is defer _% of your pay into the 401(k) so as to reap the benefit of the employer match. The employer profit sharing contribution gives you a leg up whether or not you put your own money into the 401(k) plan, but that _% employer match is dependent on you putting at least _% into the plan.

    
Two short, very readable articles for those who wonder if maybe they should diversify their 401(k) holdings just a little:Come On Gen X, Take Some Chances and What’s Gen X So Scared Of? Stocks.

    
If you’re still with me, take a look at Jason Zweig’s helpful article on when it is and is not advisable to take a loan from your 401(k). The numbers of loans taken from 401(k)s are rising across the country–up 6% over 6-8 years. For some the loan made sense. For others, it was a big mistake. If you are even thinking about the possibility, take some time to read: Banking on Yourself: Is It Ever OK to Raid Your 401(k)?

Merling, Pilar and So Many Others

More and more, I think about the women who don’t have the chances I (rather accidentally) had. For me, it was the intersection of Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society, an excellent public high school guidance counselor, and a small, liberal arts college with deep financial aid capacities. Inevitably, as I think of the serendipity that made my life what it is, I think of all the women I have met in the Fair Trade system for whom the happy accident was Fair Trade. One of them is Merling, the head of one of the largest (and oldest) coffee co-ops in Nicaragua. When I asked her about how she came to be the head of such a large co-op in such a male dominated culture, she said, “When they asked me to take the job, they told me that they were afraid I would cry if they gave me bad news. I told them, I won’t cry, if you don’t. So far, I have not made them cry and they have not been able to make me cry.”

Another woman of whom I think is Pilar—her picture is below. I have not met Pilar yet, but when our bilingual Category Manager, Sarah Connolly, brought her story back from the Dominican Republic, I felt as if I had talked with Pilar myself. In this season of reflection and gratitude, I’d like to share her story with you.

Pilar Vilorio is a young mother of two sons who owns her own plot of land and is part of the CONACADO Fair Trade Certified™ cocoa association. This 10,000 member association recently launched an eco-tourism program, Tour de Chocolate, and Pilar is one of its pioneering guides. While hosting Tour de Chocolate, she speaks eloquently of how Fair Trade has benefited her business, her community, and her family.

Pilar is helping to diversify the ways her community is supporting itself and looking towards the future. She has aspirations to one day take on a new role at CONACADO - that of the first female regional president! Pilar’s story is a testament to the life-changing empowerment possible with Fair Trade. As you might imagine for someone who once dreamed of being the first woman on the Supreme Court, I find that Pilar’s aspiration resonates deeply. More than once it has given me an extra dose of tenacity as I wrestled with recalcitrant corporate attorneys who couldn’t quite see their way clear to signing one of our contracts without eviscerating it.

I invite you to help spread the benefits of Fair Trade by supporting TransFair USA this season. Give Gifts of Fairness to family and friends that change the world by changing opportunities for Fair Trade farmers like Pilar.

My personal favorites among the gifts of fairness are:

--The gift of a gavel for a woman (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_gavel ),

--The gift of a vote for a factory worker (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_vote), and

--The gift of shade for a coffee tree (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_shade).

I’m thinking of giving my mother a virtual version of the gift that the Great Society and Wesleyan University gave her 35 years ago in real life:

--The gift of an invitation to a graduation for a mother (http://getinvolved.transfairusa.org/site/PageServer?pagename=GiftsTF_diploma )

If there are those on your holiday gift list who would enjoy these or any of the other wonderful gifts of fairness you see on the TransFair website, I hope you will take a moment to send one to them. These truly are the gifts that keep on giving!

With affection, gratitude, and every wish for a joyous holiday season,

Joan

Scaredy Cat

Ours is a long line of scaredy cats--for as long as I can remember, from as young as I can remember, there were endless admonitions. Watch out. Be careful. Don't take a chance. Danger, danger, Will Robinson!

I suppose, in part, that was because my grandparents were so central to my growing up. They were the children of immigrants, survivors of both World Wars and of the Great Depression--all of those things had to have left deep, deep scars. Then, there was the fact of Nana's fragile psyche. God knows what sorts of scars that left on the psyches of us all. Whatever tangled skein of nature, nurture, ancestral memory, and assorted life experiences gave birth to the aging woman I am today, I know that I approach all new experiences with a fear and trembling that far exceeds whatever small amount of anxiety the situation might warrant.

I suppose I should be glad that the key word in that last sentence is approach. For Nana, it was fear. How I held on to my willingness to step forward instead of freezing in place is a complete mystery. Maybe it's the other side of the family coming out, maybe it's a wild piece of DNA. I only wish there was more of it and less of the fear.

Take this trip to Germany. When your company sends you to a meeting in a country to which you have never been, it only makes sense to take advantage of the trip, right? See the country--or at least see a slice of it!

Being logical, I did just that. I stayed for three days, took trains hither and yon. Saw all the sights I could locate--phrase book in hand. Mostly, it's been fun.

The good thing about being alone is that I can gawk for as long as I like at whatever I like. Which today meant I spent about 2 hours in the Friedensmuseum in Remagen--a minor stop for most people, but a strangely captivating one for me. The short walk back to town along the fast-flowing Rhine will stay with me for a long, long time. Who knew the light green velvet of the German spring was so soft, so welcoming, and so sensual?

The bad thing is the internal hysteria, my constant companion. Miss a street sign...I'm lost on the moon and my air supply is running low. Depart from my pre-planned schedule and decide to take a later train...immediate and inescapable sense of doom. What if there are no later trains? The fact that I read the schedule 20 times and know perfectly well that the trains run all night does nothing to take the edge off the terror. Suppose the schedule has changed? Suppose it changes today? My heart rate doesn't return to normal until I am safely disembarking at the station in the town in which I am staying. No wonder I fall into bed exhausted when another day has miraculously come to a safe end!

Every once in a while, I glimpse what it's like to be unafraid, to let things happen. The idea that other people live this way is incomprehensible to me. Or it would be, if it were not for my darling husband. Among the things that drew me to him 30 long years ago next January, was his utter ignorance of the 10,000 yawning chasms that open under my feet with every other step I take. If the waiter doesn't understand your stumbling attempts at German, don't panic. A little sign language will do the trick. If you can't catch your breath on the 509 steps up to the top of the bell tower at the Kolner Dom, stop until you can. The other people can walk around you.

It's a whole different way of being.

Crossing the Rubicon

How long does it take to change a world view? Apparently, it takes decades. And, contrary to biblical stories, it happens in nearly imperceptible increments rather than in a single moment of blinding light on the road to Damascus.

First, the e-mail account. Then, tentatively touch the water with a toe--participate in professional and community list servs. A long hiatus, followed by another step: Author a blog at work. A not-so-long pause this time and then I inch forward again...a personal, invitation-only blog.

Abandon the blog--not enough time to write. Proceed down a different fork. Almost accidentally, I set up a Facebook page. Living out loud does not come naturally.

Take a breath and, with more deliberate intention, set up a Linked In profile. Post a picture? That takes a while, but yes, okay... I'll try it out on Facebook. Nothing bad happened, so why not post one on Linked In? Still thinking about that. Questions abound. How different can the professional face be from the personal, how congruent should they be? How old can the picture be and still be considered truthful? Is truth even important in this exposed, alien world?

Very deep breath. The next steps are leaps and the footing is uncertain. Once the genie is out of the bottle...

Solicit recommendations, open the blog to any viewer who clicks on the link? Freeze in place for a long, long time. Look back over my shoulder at the fast receding, well-hedged, illusion of privacy I am leaving behind. Click through to the blogs of younger, less fossilized friends. Still temporizing, I opt for universal viewing, but no search engines. What a funny little fig leaf that is!

For a long time, I've nodded sagely when people said "There is no such thing as privacy any more." It's one thing to say it, it's another thing to believe it, but deliberately moving out of what's left of the shadows means the gates of Eden are shut forever. Welcome to the matrix, old woman, what do you think about Twitter?

My only consolation as I take my place in the fishbowl is the inescapable fact that there are so many fish in here, all but the shiniest ones are invisible. Maybe I really haven't travelled very far after all.