The Little Words Mean the Most

Road warriors swap tales: Carol Weisman, MSW, CSP and Tom

I think my personal best was flying out of a dinky airport in NY state (with an incredible snack selection, though; kudos), to speak in Green Bay, WI the next day and the Twin Cities the day after that. Keynote speaker at 3 National Philanthropy Days in 3 days. I don't remember much except running, dragging, buying snacks, speaking; repeat in reverse.

Not to mention the time my flight for Denver from Pittsburgh left 8 hours late due to a PA blizzard. The pilots bought pizza for every passenger who hadn't given up and gone home. They promised we'd leave; the final flight was a quarter full. Landed at dawn, got an invite to Denver's best Ethiopian restaurant from my cabbie, checked into the conference hotel for 1 hour's sleep, did the gig, checked out, went home; probably crashed for 24 hours.

Or how about that time my plane taxied for takeoff in Odessa, TX (which smells of oil ... literally; it's the "drill, baby, drill" capital of the world). The pilot suddenly got a bad dashboard light. He taxied back to the gate (I'd moved about 400 yards in total by that time, none of them in the air). And, lo, there wasn't a room to be had in town. The oil boom was so hot they were scouring the jails for employees. The airline was as helpful as could be. I think I slept that night alongside some hotel's vending machines.

Or, hey, that time in Winnipeg, when Simone forgot her passport ... and I had to present for both of us. Having spent years rebuffing her: "You know what you know. I know what I know. I don't have to know what you know, too. Just tell me what to do."

Or then there's O'Hare. O'Hare's special. It's in the middle of a continent. A super-hub. Weather conditions across North America effect O'Hare's arrivals and departures. What road warrior doesn't have a great O'Hare story? Like the time all flights were grounded ... and I snuggled into a dim hallway cot beneath a thin blanket at 3 AM. There were thousands of other passengers on cots under thin blankets stuffed in the halls, as far as the eye could see. O'Hare looked like the London Tube during the Blitz.

 

Reply to a congressional candidate seeking to pick my pocket

First: My name's not THOMAS. It's TOM.

I would never give a penny to any fundraising robot that doesn't get that right. And you can thank ActBlue for that persistent mistake. They go by my credit card name, not my common name. And never asked my preference.

I can't vote in the first district, anyway; so I'm really not your target audience. I have, however, given serious money to candidate Aaron, because I like a flaming progressive; I think he has fire power. Spoken with candidate Sabina, too; be happy with her. There are what? 33 other candidates as well? Oh, my.

And Walter, who are you again? I know what you're not (your paragraph 4).

How was the opening rate on your subject line? Not exactly a barn burner declaration.

And starting with a statistic in your email is how you lose the "3-second test." (I can explain; it comes from neuroscience.)

All this must sound like criticism. Honestly, may the best candidate win. David C. did RI proud, especially during the worst of the Trump years. Little Rhody can punch well above its weight ... with the right people in office (Whitehouse, Jack Reed).

And, yes, I know no one's listening. Hi, robot!

~ tom (not thomas)

 

 

If you can spread this sad/hopeful tale, then thank you....

 

[above, live from Kyiv]

I'm trying to help pitch an urgent story about Ukrainian kids diagnosed with cancer who are still in-country. But don't know anyone in the media...

Story points:
1. Ukrainian kids diagnosed with pediatric cancer. Recovery rate can be 80+% with the right, advanced care.
2. Same kids, served by a gov't-managed health-care system that's less than perfect ... and distracted by Putin's war. Often, expensive medicines and other cancer treatments come out of parents' pockets. Those same pockets are mostly not deep. A charity named Tabletochki ("little pill"), established more than a decade ago, covers the costs through fundraising. They are "amazing," according to a top Canadian consultant who worked closely with them for several years. I've had a Zoom with them this past week (volunteered to help with their case development). It was an inspiring, wonderful, joyful meeting (except maybe for the part where I realized they speak and write better colloquial English than I do).
3. Tabletochki enjoyed heavy support from average Ukrainians; their compassionate gifts annually covered 90% of the treatment costs.
4. Then Putin invaded.
5. Then pretty quickly 16 million+ Ukrainians hit the road or the trenches. Tabletochki's reliable donor base disappeared, the biggest European refugee crisis since World War 2. Donors turned into refugees living from suitcases.
6. The Tabletochki foundation still ensures first-world cancer treatment for Ukrainian cancer kids (they're involved with 600+ families right now) ... but there's a hole in the charity's annual budget, thanks to Putin's war. This year, Tabletochki needs to go global ... at least until Putin's atrocity ends. The goal isn't all that high, as campaigns go: about $2 million in outside compassion to cover the country's pediatric cancer-care costs through the next 12 months should do the trick.

Advice, my friends?

And thank you ... your noodling helps!!! They're working on their plan. And, as I said before, they are "amazing."

 

The witch and I: Grief therapy is complicated, turns out

This is a Sheela na gig, defined as a "naked woman displaying an exaggerated vulva."

My witch brought Sheela up today, for loads of healthy reasons that said nothing good about the Roman Catholic church (my upbringing) and its focus on original sin. (As noted: therapy is complicated.) Sheela was a good thing. Every Irish door had one ... until the priests arrived and ripped her away.

I mentioned to our nephew Dave that I had 2 psychotherapists ... and a witch.

"Witch?"

"You know: broomstick."

I learned about Kat from a Ph.D. psychologist whom she'd helped get through an assortment of crises. She calls herself the "helpful witch." That and more. In our hour-long chats, as she flips through her designer Tarot cards, revelation after revelation waft ... and I feel my heart softly padding toward a real future eventually, both with Simone Internal/Eternal and without her physically by me in bed and across so many tables. And yes there will be pain. A fucking lot of it. Thank you, Hillary C.: it does take a village. The lucky ones have a good witch.

 

Spoke in Romania; trying to help in Ukraine with kids' cancer care

Tabletochki was kind enough to send a photo of a how-to book they use to help train their new fundraising hires.

Look: this is a very useful charity, raising money for state-of-the-art cancer treatments for Ukrainian kids, bolstering 6 hospitals in-country.

And then a fork-tailed demon in human form (driver's license name: Vladimir Putin) invaded without provocation, threatening the survival of these cancer kids.

Tabletochki WAS donor supported. Now? More than 16 million potential donors have fled the country or are displaced, living out of suitcases. For now: the outside world has to support these kids.

Help? Will you? Thank you!!!

 

I have mermaids in my family tree

 

true

 

true

 

sad story, that

 

Not caught in trees: breeding me and my family, down the branches

 

A team works up a case for Ukranian kids' cancer relief in the midst of war

 

[after praising a great headline...]

 

As I say ad nauseam (to my ears, too), that same headline is missing the most important word in sales: you. Without "you," it's a statement. WITH "you," it gets personal and emotional. Simply extending the headline with a short, next sentence. Or with a deck (subhead).

 

Will you join Veronika's new battle?

Will you tell Putin to get his hands off these cancer kids? [turn Putin into a pedophile as well as a mass-murdering Hitler sans mustache]

Will you [whatever]?

 

To Jeff, a co-conspirator who asked me to write a guest blog post...

 

No need to talk me into. At your service, Jeff. Give me a deadline.

 

+ PS: Whatever I write, feel free to edit. On my personal Mt. Rushmore are those editors who made my crap better.

 

"The D seems off for that context."

 

[He's talking about the ancient AIDA formula in advertising.]

 

Advertising IS different. You hope to drive response; that's ALL that matters. The cash register must RING. That's why you're spending money to make money.

 

In the nonprofit world these days, though, being accused as "transactional" raises eyebrows.

 

Being transactional was the entire point, when I worked commercial: you committed your money, then you got something in return. Give, get.

 

I think nonprofit marketers (i.e., fundraisers) have been bullied into shunning this basic trade-craft. Weak bosses, self-righteous program staffers, ignorant board chairs all play a role.

 

It's one of the oldest delusions in fundraising: entitlement. "We don't have to do shit. You just SHOULD give us your money ... because we ARE that worthy!"

 

------

 

No longer ... for at least 50 years?

 

The reasons WHY someone's heart gives to your charity mission are personal. Not to be trifled with.

 

{deleted: a rant about today's New Puritans}

 

And so ... what's the transaction ... what then do I GET, nonprofit donor ... in exchange? (Because neuroscience says "reciprocity" matters, in human interactions.)

 

Is your best response a glib, AI-derived, soulless thanking me for my online gift?

 

------

 

Back to Jeff: I didn't mean that AIDA was FULLY appropriate.

 

I meant only that a grounding in AIDA changes your thinking. Donor newsletters aren't entirely passive; they can also trigger action. And based on our Zoomer, the newsletter under consideration is apparently NOT triggering action. And until it DOES trigger action, keep experimenting.

 

love cakes and the season for lobster rolls now arrives...

 

 

Oh, crap. I have to pay attention, right?

 

 

Thinking not stinking...

 

 

Had my mind sunk into the North American slave trade and the beloved university that brewed me and generations of the Ivy League on whips and lashes. I benefited. It never occurred to me to protest.

 

 

I hope you'll attend.

 

OK, getting it together. Truly. Trust me. Trust you more than me. (Who are you, again?) Shite, stumble: The most important thing I had to do this coming week was water my new meadow, so Julie Andrews could sing across it. I have 2 gardeners. That's what Sam said: I have a meadow. She established the meadow for Julie Andrews; & Sam is not backing down. I disconnected the hose.

 

Got it, though; from you. Past time for a promo ... will do ...

 

this may require some tending

 

Just TOLD OFF the Romanian Fundraising conference why I am NOT their best choice as a plenary speaker (honestly, I am trying to help them).

 

Patience. We get there????????

 

tom

 

 

 

To Andrew ... who now knows more than I do about donor newsletters ... oh, about that approval committee you're saddled with

 

dear Andrew...

I knew none of this ... not at this level ... not this well quantified [he'd listed 5 criteria for success]. THANK YOU! ¶ We try stuff. Then we get one thing figured out maybe. Then we try something else. As I've said, it takes about 4 quarterly issues to get the mood right. ¶ The first thing we try to kill is internal committee review; but that's before we even sign a contract. A busted, dumb, lazy, "collegial" [universities], top-down ["This doesn't sound like me!"] approval process is the enemy of high-yield donor comms.