I watched Oprah's Big Give last night. Me and approximately 16 million other people. Oprah told me I'd be "inspired" to give big myself. She promised America that giving big is "easy."
That's when Oprah lost me.
Making a positive difference in the life of another person doesn't have to be hard and it doesn't always have to cost money. With that, I agree. But watching 10 people handpicked by Oprah's lackeys, running around unknown cities, raising thousands of dollars during the course of just a couple of days for causes already screened by television producers, makes real philanthropy look deceivingly simple. Not to mention that corporate sponsors are, of course, going to pony up with a single phone call when they've got Oprah's platform to tout their good deeds.
In real life, philanthropy doesn't work that way. It's full of rejection and disappointment, just as often as it is filled with utter joy and fulfillment. The average charity--often run by people with deep knowledge, unrelenting passion, and pure hearts--doesn't have the most powerful woman in America backing its endeavor to do good in this world. Cold calling corporations for sponsorships and approaching donors and foundations for crucial funds is hard. Plain and simple...it takes a ridiculous amount of time, energy, and tenacity to build support for a cause, no matter how much it may help the world's neediest people.
Maybe I'm a little touchy right now. I'm part of a committee that's deciding where to invest all the donations we collected during our first season of Race with Purpose. Our team raised almost $90,000 when all was said and done, and we put that money in a separate Race with Purpose fund at a private foundation. The investment committee of five team members has been devoted since October to finding the charities most closely aligned with our mission to help under-served children lead healthy, active lives.
To be blunt, the process has been exhausting. We have been rigorous in our research to ensure that our money is going to organizations that have the best shot at being successful and using our funds to have measurable, meaningful impact on the kids they serve. We created our grant-making process from scratch, writing an application, inviting our list of 20 possible grantees, getting in touch with all of them, reading through each application, and finally narrowing our choices down to four groups, all of which we then interviewed on the phone.
During the course of this experience, it was astounding to me how many charities are out there doing so many compelling things. Our "final four" is presenting us with a difficult decision, because all of them are deserving of our support. I guess the upside is that there doesn't seem to be a "wrong" decision. In the end, there are some kids out there who will inevitably live better because of the money our team raised. There is something unbelievably satisfying about that.
I don't fault Oprah for giving this reality show a whirl. The less cynical side of me truly believes that anything that can get more people to be selfless, to care about those in need, to live for something bigger than themselves, is a fantastic idea. I hope it works and I do hope that people are moved to do more good in their communities, or at the very least reach out to a friend could use support and do what you can to help. God knows you don't have to look too far to find somebody who could benefit from your kindness and concern.
My inspiration comes from the amazing committee of Race with Purpose members who have given their time, intelligence, and work ethic to help underprivileged kids--and the organizations that are doing the real work to make it happen.
And I am continually in awe of and grateful to the organization that set me on this path to begin with: Penn State Dance Marathon (Thon), the largest student-run philanthropy in the nation. Once again this year, thousands of Penn State students dedicated themselves to helping the families of children battling cancer at the Penn State Hershey Medical Center. Those students just raised a record $6,615,318.04 for the Four Diamonds Fund last weekend, meeting the challenge with the same spirit and enthusiasm they bring to the biggest Nittany Lion football games. As our beloved JoePa says of Thon, "This is what they mean when they say, 'We are Penn State.'"
Watch this snippet on CBS from my senior year of college...and be inspired.
Happy hour in 1999 with my grandfathers: Poppop (left) and Pappap (right)"Happy birthday, Pappap!" I exclaimed into the phone this morning.
"Erin, hello! Thank you," my grandfather responded, on this, his 93rd birthday.
"What are you doing to celebrate?" I asked.
"Well, you know. Not too much. Same old thing, though I think I may have a Rolling Rock this afternoon," he said, with a little laugh.
"I wish I could be there to have one with you," I said.
"Me too, Erin. Me too," he said.
My Pappap turned 93 years old today, which in and of itself is quite something. But beyond the number of years he's roamed the earth, what's even more extraordinary is that he starts the road to 94 with the same can-do spirit, sense of humor, and downright stubborness he's had his whole life. At 33, it's hard for me to imagine not being simply exhausted 60 years from now.
He's seen World War II, the Great Depression, the death of his only daughter's husband, the loss of his wife. He's the last of 13 brothers and sisters who is still alive. He recently moved from the only home he's ever really known into a Veteran's Home in Western Pennsylvania, where he is one of the only residents on his floor with the ability to hold a lucid conversation. For a man who's thrived on deep family connections, long-standing friendships, and a social calendar that until recently rivaled a Hollywood starlet's, his capacity to adapt is a lesson of ridiculous proportions.
He (and we) thought it was the end for him about two years ago. My mother was spending weeks on end at his house, trying to convince him that he needed to decide which retirement home he wanted to move into. One night, enough was enough. We had to call an ambulance to take him to a hospital. An infection had disabled him completely and his health declined rapidly. While he was in the hospital, plans were made to move him directly to the Veteran's Home. That morning, as he was being taken out on a stretcher, was the last time he ever saw his home of nearly 65 years.
He spent the first few months in his new surroundings complaining a lot and telling us he was just waiting to die (much to my mother's general dismay). Confined to a wheelchair, he didn't see the point in sticking around. His pride was getting the best of him -- if he couldn't move with his own two legs, he decided he just didn't want to move anymore.
Soon, he was introduced to physical therapy, though. If you're not familiar, old people generally hate physical therapy. But my Pappap soon realized that the exercises were making it possible to regain some independence. And, besides that, they just made him feel good. One day when the physical therapist was running late, Pappap took it upon himself to call him, to make sure he was still coming. The therapist was shocked...he'd never met any resident quite like my Pappap.
While my grandfather is still largely confined to the wheelchair, he doesn't talk at all about if he'll walk again, but instead talks about plans to go out for dinner when he can walk again. He recently achieved a big milestone, after nearly 18 months of training: he can get himself out of bed without any help.
The last time I went for a visit, a nurse came in to take him for his daily walk -- one of very few things he insists on. He counts each step he takes with his walker and tries to add a few each day. Pappap beamed with pride when the nurse told me that he walks the farthest of all the residents on the floor. When I'm ready to quit on a training run or in a race, there's no way I can, knowing this.
The secret to a long and happy life?
"You gotta keep moving, Erin," he's said to me, more than once. "That's all."
When I asked him on his 92nd birthday how he felt, he replied that he was just waiting "to go."
When I asked him the same question today, he said, "I'm looking forward to my 94th."
Mind, body, spirit -- I need no other proof that they are all connected. It's only when you stop moving--even briefly--that you lose perspective...no matter how old you are.
Happy birthday, Pappap! Here's to another Rolling Rock on your 94th.
