Both I and my wife, Elsa, have jobs that involve raising money for nonprofits. Much of the joy in that work comes from getting to know so many warm and gracious people, donors who care about our organizations and who support our activities. But there is also a sadder side to our work. Just last week, the two of us were commiserating over breakfast about how one of the harder aspects of our jobs is the emotional blow we feel when a donor dies. Invariably we flash back to that last lunch, that last coffee, those last words we shared with someone who is no longer here with us. Then we reach out to his or her family, we notify our staff and our board members, and we find an appropriate way to honor the life of a person whose generosity made a difference in the lives of others. 

 

Last Monday I was informed that Sally McCracken passed away on November 6. There are others who knew Sally better than I did, but I immediately recalled how she and I hit it off over lunch at the Chart House recently, reminiscing about John Gray and John Hampton and her late husband, Paul. She spoke about her family's forestland and the role it played in their lives, the hill in Eugene named after one of her ancestors (Bailey Hill is named for him) who walked all the way from Tennessee to Oregon and settled in Eugene, and the oversized molten chocolate lava cake that Paul decided to order at a restaurant after learning that he had cancer. Of these stories, however, what I find myself remembering most fondly about our conversation was the enthusiasm she displayed over her Chart House membership card. There was something sweet about how she so greatly appreciated the way the restaurant workers always treated her when she presented her card, especially for how they put flowers on the table whenever she ate there. Flowers always do make things feel special. 

 

For this month's newsletter, we at the World Forestry Center had been working on a story honoring Paul McCracken. We had been talking to Sally about our plans, and she was excited that his biography was to be featured. So, needless to say, the news of Sally's death hit very close to home for our staff. We had just talked to her on Thursday about the article. How we wish she could have lived to enjoy reading the final version.

 

We've missed Paul for several years. Now we miss Sally. The good news is that both of them lived rich and full lives. They helped their communities, and as a result they made our lives better. I hope you'll join me in raising a glass (or perhaps planting a tree) in honor of Sally McCracken and the wonder-filled life she lived.