It's Your Turn!

Today's post will be atypically (and perhaps mercifully?) brief, because really, I want to hear from you.



If you have attended one of our webinars during the past year and found it helpful, please take a moment to post your comments on the blog. If you have suggestions for ways to make them better, I'd welcome those as well.



To sweeten the pot and signal our appreciation for your time, we'll be randomly selecting five people for a free 2008 webinar of their choice.

I hope while you're here you'll read through the blog and visit the rest of our site.

Thank you so much for your time!

Paradoxical Juxtaposition

Paradox is defined as "one (as a person, situation, or action) having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases" and juxtaposition is defined as "the act or an instance of placing two or more things side by side." Therefore, paradoxical juxtaposition is the act or an instance of placing two or more seemingly contradictory things side by side.

Welcome to my world.

My husband Larry and I were married by a rabbi and a Presbyterian minister, standing together under a chuppah in a chapel. At the reception Larry began his toast by talking about mixed marriages and how many people think they can't work. He ended by saying that he and I are living proof that a relationship between a Cubs fan and White Sox fan can work and does work. We've also found that a marriage works between a democrat and a republican; a conservative and a liberal; a north suburban Chicagoan and a northwest Indianan; a soap opera fan and a wrestling fan...

I've spent the last 24 years (since I was 6) working with or for nonprofits, helping them find effective ways to use software -- seemingly a most impersonal tool -- to make them more effective at raising money, a very personal process. I find that many people think of me as something of a geek, and that's probably true, although I do not converse in techno-speak.

Because I "get" software, it's generally assumed that I like all things technical, and it's true that I'm intrigued by new toys. Most recently, I have been looking at the Kindle. This is a product being sold by Amazon.com. It's a wireless device that allows you to instantly download books, newspapers or magazines into the device. It never has to be connected to a computer -- apparently the technology is like that of a cellular phone. Once the text is downloaded into the Kindle, you can read it.

I read a number of reviews of the Kindle and every one talked about how easy it is to read the "pages", how the screen is lit in a way that does not produce glare, even when used outside in the sunlight. I believe it holds about 200 books. It's about the size of a paperback book and is very lightweight.

The Kindle has become my latest technical obsession.

When I travel, I usually take 3-6 books with me. This is kind of a pain, particularly on a plane when I finish one book and need to select another one. They add weight to the luggage, take up space, etc. So a Kindle would be great, since I could have all my reading material in it.

Between Larry and I, there are probably well over 1000 books in our house. And they are pretty much all over the house. There are books in every room in our house, including the kitchen. With the Kindle, you buy the book texts from Amazon and they get downloaded to the device. Even if you remove a book from the device, Amazon maintains your "library" so you can download a book you've purchased at any time -- forever. Of course I understand that I would not have a way to get all my existing books into a Kindle library unless I bought them again, but at least this could stop the madness.

I'm presuming that I could buy new books as soon as they come out in hardcover without having to pay as much as a newly-released hardcover book would cost. There are a few authors that I like a lot and I always pre-order their new releases.

This device could save me money, help me avoid more clutter in my home, get me new books faster, and of course it would be a very cool thing to have and play with. So why, you ask, do I not already have one?

I learned to read when I was three. From the time I could read "Sad Mrs. Sam Sack" (She was sad because she had 10 children and a husband and they lived in a small house. Every night she went to bed sad. She went to see a wise man and he had her bring lots of animals into her house; first 10 rabbits, then 10 cats and 10 dogs, etc. Finally one night she went to bed sad but got up MAD. The next day she kicked all the extra animals out and the house seemed much bigger.) I have luxuriated in books the way other people luxuriate in a bubble bath or some other indulgence.

Somehow I feel that part of the experience is actually holding the book: turning the pages, going back and rereading something particularly interesting or beautiful, truly getting lost in a book. It's hard for me to imagine that the Kindle would provide the same experience.

It's also possible that the $350 price tag has something to do with my hesitation.

Still, despite all this, I will likely have a Kindle before the year is out. I will buy it for the convenience, portability and the fact that it's a cool new toy to have. It will live in the house, next to my well-worn copies of To Kill a Mockingbird, Gone With The Wind, all of Shakespeare's works, all of Agatha Christie's novels and short stories, all the Harry Potter books, my Civil War books, the Wizard of Oz books that were my mother's when she was a girl and are now mine, and many more.

I love a good paradox.

Milestones

As we inch ever closer to the 15th anniversary of the day this firm began, I find myself thinking again about how it began. I wish it was an impressive story, filled with detail about how I wrote a detailed business plan, did many hours of research, painstakingly created a list of potential clients, prepared eloquent marketing material, etc. In fact, I did none of those things.

I had been working as an account manager for a company that sells fundraising software. The company, like most companies, had gone through some ups and downs during the 5 1/2 years that I was there, and my fortunes there had also gone through some ups and downs. The last "down" came at the end of 1992, when my manager left to take another position and they closed the Chicago-area office and moved me to a sales position. Four months later... well, to be blunt, I quit in a huff after a conversation with the company president to which I took exception.

I gave two weeks notice and used that time to decide what to do next. I loved working with nonprofits, so I thought about ways that I could continue to do that. Work for a consulting firm? Go back to fundraising? Find another software company? Nothing felt quite right, but some tiny part of my brain was saying that I could do what I had been doing, on my own.

Work for myself? Set rates that did not have to cover a lot of overhead? Choose to work with clients in whose missions I believed? Be able to set standards for service that I felt clients deserved?

It sounded better and better...

So I took a look at my financial situation. No savings, and if I included my final paycheck, vacation pay, a little bit from a 401(K), I figured that I had enough to live on for six weeks. Ideal for a business venture, right?

Okay, I thought, I'll give myself six weeks to generate enough work to support myself. When I run out of money, I'll get a "real job".

I was very lucky. I got a few contracts right away and I had a built-in base of prospective clients, people who had worked with me over the last 5 years who knew me and liked the way I worked.

And so, incredibly, on May 15th CJW will celebrate its 15th anniversary. And I will celebrate the fact that I still don't have a "real job".

This is not a job. It's a labor of love.

Clarity

I will always remember 2007 as the year of absolute clarity.

In the late-1980s, I attended a workshop put together by the customer service manager at the software company for which I was working. He based the workshop on a book called "The Strategy of the Dolphin", which is one of those "Who Moved My Cheese" kind of books that was advocating dolphin-like behavior as the way to succeed in business. I still remember the quintessential quote: "The dolphin says, 'I want us both to win, and to win elegantly and resoundingly, no matter the difficulty or the time it takes.'" Or something like that.

More importantly, the manager talked about part of the dolphin strategy being to "find your bliss" -- find work you truly love and believe in.

I found my bliss in 1984 when I went to work for a nonprofit in Chicago, in the Development office. When I left there in 1987, it was to work for a company who provided fundraising software to nonprofits. In 1993 I left that company to start my consulting firm, offering software-related services to nonprofit organizations.

So -- for nearly 24 years I have been helping nonprofits make effective use of software resources. I hope to continue to do this until I retire to the California wine country in my dotage (because somehow I know that I will still love sparkling wine in my dotage.)

Fast-forwarding a couple of decades, I entered 2007 knowing that near the end of it, I would turn 50. The first time this occurred to me, I shrugged my shoulders and had another sip of champagne. But the thought would not go away and seemed to demand some kind of action on my part. From there, something else took over.

I thought perhaps I'd have a party and ask friends and family to make gifts to a nonprofit instead of getting me anything. Then I had to decide on a nonprofit for which to request contributions. I knew it should not be one of our clients, so I was weighing other options when more powerful forces took over.

I had an opportunity to discuss a work project with an organization in Washington DC. I flew there for a day and arranged my travel schedule so that I would have a little free time to visit the US Holocaust Memorial Museum.

The previous blog entry will tell you what I found at the Museum and how I left there having decided to ask for gifts for the Museum, and to make my 50th birthday a celebration of memory.

I spent much of the summer and fall planning a party -- space was offered to me, I found a caterer, prepared invitations, compiled a list of invitees, tried to explain to my family what I was trying to do. The usual stuff. The invitations went out at the end of October, with the party scheduled for December 1, 2007.

My available time in November was spent thinking about this party and how to celebrate and honor memory. One of the ways I wanted to do this was the prepare some presentations that would run throughout the evening.

Ultimately, I prepared three presentations. One was about the US Holocaust Memorial Museum; one was about my family and friends, many of whom attended the party; and the third was about our clients.

It was as I was writing the client presentation that everything fell together in one of those moments of clarity.

At the Holocaust Museum, I had listened as Elie Wiesel spoke about the importance of memory; about how forgetting means the end of everything. And I had been moved to tears by his words, because I thought about how nonprofits preserve and protect culture, civilization, humanity -- all that Elie Wiesel said would be lost if we are allowed to forget.

Writing the client presentation, seeing the names of all the organizations we've worked with since 1993, and thinking about my conversations with people at these organizations, I remembered myself saying these words again and again: Institutional Memory.

Software is an organization's memory.

And so I found myself writing these words:

Our work is about memory: We help organizations create,maintain and use data as institutional memory.

Elie Wiesel is a truly amazing man who found a way to survive the holocuast and dedicate his life to protecting humanity from the dangers of indifference. Forgetting leads to indifference, and we cannot allow people to forget. Elie Wiesel is a holocaust survivor, a Nobel prize winning author, a scholar, a professor.

I am none of those things. Yet in my own very small way I contribute to the preservation of the collective memory.

I have always understood that this is important. I have always valued knowledge, memories and information for their own sake.

Now, poised to turn 50 in a few hours, I know why.

Clarity.

If you are interested, the presentations are available for viewing on our website. If you return to the home back and follow the link for the Accidents and Inspiration Benefit, there are links to all three presentations at the bottom of that page.

If you feel inspired to make a gift to the Holocaust Museum, please make your check out to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum and send it to me at CJW Consulting & Services, Inc, 8331 Central Avenue, Morton Grove, IL 60053.

I will happily send you a personal thank you along with wristbands saying "Never Again" and "Celebrate Memory" -- and I will pass your gift along to the Museum who will send you an acknowledgment for tax purposes.

Indifference and Remembrance

A few months ago, I flew to Washington DC for a meeting. I had a couple of free hours, and I spent them visiting the US Holocaust Memorial Museum. As I was wandering around, I was drawn to a small bank of personal computers.

I found a link to a podcast on the Museum's website, a portion of an interview with holocaust survivor and Nobel Prize recipient Elie Wiesel. Mr. Wiesel was speaking about an incident in San Francisco not long ago when he was accosted by a holocaust denier. The man rode in an elevator with Mr. Weisel, followed him off the elevator and grabbed him in the hallway.

While the attack left him physically unharmed, the incident led Wiesel to reflect on a recurring theme in his work, which he calls "the perils of indifference." Here's an excerpt of what he had to say:

"That person attacked me—okay?—and we were already outside the elevator and he tried to pull me into his room. And I began shouting, literally howling. I've never heard myself howl like that—"Help, help, help." I must have shouted for three minutes. Not one door opened. Then when I went down to the security people, and they said, "Maybe three people called us that they heard your shouts." Three—there must have been 20, 30, because it was 6 in the evening—6, 7 in the evening—but not one door opened. So how can you not feel discouraged?"

"What I make of that? Indifference, you know. I fought all my life against indifference. Yes, at least three of them called, but even they didn't open a door. That is painful. That means, what have I done with all of my work? Trying to wake people up."

"Even in moral terms, morality means concern for the other, not for oneself—the other."

"In order to feel empathy and compassion for and with a person who is alone, suffering, in desperation, it's only because we remember others who were alone, suffering, and in despair. It happens that not only one person, but the group may forget."

"Forgetting means the end of civilization, the end of culture, the end of generosity, the end of compassion, the end of humanity."

"And therefore I celebrate memory, and I try to strengthen it. And I believe—I still do, in spite of everything—that memory is a shield. If we remember what people can do to each other, then we can help those who tomorrow may be threatened by the same enemy."

Mr. Wiesel's words struck a deep chord in me. I have spent nearly half my life working for and with nonprofits: organizations who work ceaselessly to protect civilization, culture, compassion and humanity; organizations who depend on the lack of indifference and the generosity of others.

Then and there, I decided that I wanted to use the occasion of an upcoming "big" birthday to ask for gifts to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum, located in Washington, DC. In case you're not familiar with it, here's a short blurb from their website (http://www.ushmm.org/):

A living memorial to the Holocaust, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum stimulates leaders and citizens to confront hatred, prevent genocide, promote human dignity, and strengthen democracy.

This organization embodies Elie Wiesel's work, which is dedicated to protecting your work.

Between now and December 9th, I will be collecting gifts for the Museum, with a goal of raising $10,000 to support their education, remembrance and conscience program areas. If you would like to contribute, please make your check payable to the US Holocaust Memorial Museum and send it to:

CJW Consulting & Services, Inc.
8331 Central Avenue
Morton Grove, IL 60053

If you prefer not to be acknowledged by the Museum, please indicate on the reference line of your check that you'd like to remain anonymous.

If you prefer, you may send your gift directly to the local museum office:

US Holocaust Memorial Museum
PO Box 1852
Highland Park, IL 60035

If you choose this option, please indicate that this is a gift for Cheryl Weissman's Accidents and Inspiration Campaign.

Thank you for your support!

If you would like to comment on this post, please click the word "comment" below

How Much Is Not Enough?

A couple of months ago I was trying to figure out an affordable way to help a group of interested professionals get an introduction to The Raiser's Edge, a software product for which training is available only if you work for an organization that uses it.

While I was not able to offer a free session, as I initially hoped to do, I did find that I could offer an online seminar for a very reasonable $40 per person, and the CJW webinar series was born.

Since that first session at the end of May, we have led three webinars: Interfacing and reconciliation between Development and Accounting offices; Raiser's Edge Export Functions; and one about what it takes to get a job as a support person in a Development office. There are 6 more scheduled during the month of July, and we will be adding others to be held in August and September within a couple of weeks. Each session is 90 minutes long. Registrants are given a web link to view the webinar and a toll-free number to call in order to hear it and be able to participate.

I thought long and hard about the price for these sessions. I get emails inviting me to webinars frequently, including those from Blackbaud, who is offering 3-hour sessions priced at about $240 per person. My sessions are half as long as those Blackbaud is offering, so at half their price I'd be charging $120 per person, which is pretty much in line with what I'm seeing from other companies offering such services.

I know that it can be dangerous to price services too low. There's all that "if it seems to good to be true it probably is" and "you get what you pay for" stuff hanging in the air around a low-priced opportunity. But as this firm is very small and our overhead is kept as low as possible, our rates have consistently been lower across the board, although I'm confident that the quality of our services meets or exceeds our competitors. I've never liked the idea of charging more than I felt I needed just because I could.

What do you think? Would you invest $40 and 90 minutes? Would the low price be off-putting to you? If $40 is too low, what do you think an online seminar is worth?

I'd like to ask that you go to the Events/Webinars page of this web site and review our offerings. Then come back here and tell me what you think about the webinars and the prices.

In Loving Memory

Today is Memorial Day. Like many of us, I have had many reflective moments during this long weekend. I’ve read lists of fallen soldiers in the newspaper and thought of all the men and women still in harm’s way, and I’ve prayed for them and their families.

I’ve also thought a lot of people closer to me that I keep close in memory. My grandfather, Nathan, who died in 1989. My grandfather’s namesake, my nephew Nathan, who was born in 1990 and died less than two years later. My grandmother, who died in 2001 at age 87.

And Edward.

I first saw Edward in April of 1984. He was kicking a photocopy machine. I had just started a new job in the Development office of a Chicago social service agency. Edward was the Executive Director’s assistant and was in the midst of preparing materials for a board meeting. The copier was not cooperating.

Over the next few months, we became friends, eventually the closest of friends. He became a surrogate brother to me, and Rosalie, who was his fiancée when I met her and became his wife a few months later, and is still my dearest friend.

Edward left our agency about a year after I arrived, and went to work for Children’s Home and Aid Society of Illinois. He started in the Development office as staff liaison for the Women’s Auxiliary and ended his career there in 1993 as the Director of Development. He left because he was not able to work any longer, and he died a year later, after a three and a half year battle with brain cancer. He was 41 years old. He left behind a loving and beloved wife, two beautiful daughters who were just shy of their second birthday, a mother and many treasured friends.

Edward was a lot things, and among those things he was the best of the best of fundraisers. Although I know that he was successful and met or exceeded his goals, I don’t have facts and figures to tell you about – I don’t know how many dollars he raised, how many donors increased their giving, how many new donors he acquired. But I know these things:

He genuinely loved his work and understood its importance

He saw the importance of the organization’s mission at all times

He respected everyone with whom he interacted

He truly wanted to help make the world a better place – and he did

It was not because of Edward that I followed the path that I took. I fell in love with fundraising and nonprofits when I went to work for one, when I finally found that my work could be about more than putting money in other people’s pockets.

But it is in part because of Edward that I have continued on the path. Like every job, mine has its ups and downs. I work very hard and very long hours, and I frequently sacrifice time with my husband, my family and friends to “take care of business.”

For all this time, even today, nearly 13 years after his death, I think of Edward and feel a renewed commitment to my work.

Our work at CJW helps fundraisers do their work – it’s a small part in helping them be what Edward was to CHASI. I often say that I feel privileged to have been able to serve the nonprofit community for such a long time. This is why.

I honor Edward with my work. I remember him, today and always.l