volunteerplaintalk

Tag: finding inspiration

“My Job is Social”

I was so impressed by an article I read a couple of weeks ago about the volunteer program at the Fort Wayne Children’s Zoo in Indiana that I just had to call and speak to the volunteer manager, Kathy Terlizzi because something about the article’s description of the program conveyed a specialness about volunteering. Kathy graciously agreed to let me write about our conversation.

Kathy with Dingo pup

http://www.journalgazette.net/news/local/Volunteering-at-zoo-better-than-working-5364666
I felt so comfortable speaking to her from her first bubbly hello that I imagined all the volunteers, both existing and perspective who are captivated by her passion and dedication. Her program truly is inspirational.

Kathy has been the zoo’s volunteer manager since August 2009 and was a volunteer at the zoo before joining the staff. “I made changes based on my experiences as a volunteer,” she told me. When she took over, the initial training program for new volunteers occurred either at the end of the season or at the beginning which meant some volunteers had to wait before utilizing their new skills and enthusiasm. Also, the training was a comprehensive training which meant that volunteers, regardless of their comfort level were expected to “get out and do what they were trained for”. Many volunteers, Kathy found, were overwhelmed with the comprehensive training and since there was no practical application (mentoring) along with training, the volunteers were not prepared to roll up their sleeves and jump in to some of the more complicated tasks.

So, Kathy, seeing volunteers repeatedly become overwhelmed, initiated a stair step training broken into three parts.
Part one is the basic training for all adult volunteers. This is the ground floor training and volunteers are asked to commit to 18 shift hours before moving up to the next level. Volunteers at the zoo can sign up for shifts online. (the zoo utilizes Volgistics for volunteer management).
Part two is the Ambassador training which helps volunteers prepare to interact and speak to the general public.
Part three is the docent training which helps volunteers become comfortable in crowd situations and with handling zoo education animals during animal demonstrations and off site programs for zoo guests.

This stair step method allows volunteers to take their volunteer training in stages and encourages them to find their comfort level of participation. The more advanced classes may be smaller than the initial basic training, but it ensures that volunteers find their own path and don’t feel pushed into something they are not ready to do. Some volunteers don’t wish to advance while others find that they want to move up. “I believe that volunteers should bloom where they’re planted,” Kathy said.

I heard real pride and enthusiasm when Kathy spoke about her teen leadership program which is set to kick off in June and July. Daily, 30-40 adult volunteers work in the zoo, but during the summer program an additional 40 teens who volunteer during two-week sessions are incorporated. They too, sign up for shifts online after going through a special teen orientation.
Teens 13-17 apply for the two-week sessions and the 172 slots are coveted by 250 applicants. Returning teens account for about 99 slots, so the rest are new teens who go through the new application process which includes filling out an online application, answering an essay question and providing a letter of recommendation.
After the applications are processed and the teens selected comes the logistical nightmare of slotting teens into the program. Kathy spends the entire month of March working on the two-week sessions. Emails and phone calls from interested teens takes over her days as she slots returning teens first and then the new teens are inserted based on gender, age and availability to provide balance. It is an ever evolving schedule as teens find conflicts with their other activities and family obligations.
But, instead of this monumental task seeming a burden for Kathy, she is stoked about the teen program, and told me that at first, she was intimidated working with teens because of all the negative stereotypes she’d heard about young people. But she found that the teens she works with are wonderful, responsible volunteers. She prides herself as an up front person and speaks to them frankly about dress codes, expectations and sensitive subjects like drugs and weapons. The teens are expected to be professional in their participation, especially in regard to zoo guests. In return, the teens take their responsibilities very seriously and frankly, Kathy says, they “have a lot to say.” Kathy believes in speaking to the teens directly, (although the program is transparent and openly invites parental and guardian involvement) and finds that the teens really step up when given the chance to embrace responsibility.
One day she discovered some older photographs of teen volunteers doing the same animal handling as the adults, something the zoo had gotten away from over the years, so she advocated a return to letting teens have equal volunteer responsibility. The parents were open to it, she says, mainly because they knew their children were safe within the zoo framework.
So two years ago, she implemented a two-hour pilot training and 66 teens signed up. At first the teens began with level one animals, bunnies and guinea pigs, but now the teens are handling snakes and tortoises. When the pilot program began, Kathy let the teens know that they were in part responsible for the success of the program and the teens immediately stepped up and showed the professionalism necessary for the program to thrive.

Puzzle Feeder

Another success Kathy talked about was increasing the trust level between staff and volunteers. It was a goal she had when she first started and so she spent the first year building a rapport with staff. “I told them (staff) that volunteers will do anything as long as it benefits the zoo. They won’t, however wash your car.” At first the zoo keepers were reluctant, so Kathy took a proactive approach.
She saw that the giraffe keepers had to prepare food daily for the giraffe puzzle feeders (a hanging feeder with holes that let the food stick out-these feeders simulate the natural foraging of giraffes) and offered to ask volunteers to do the preparation, thus giving the keepers more time to focus on other more pressing tasks. At first the keepers wondered why any volunteer would be willing to do that job, but within five hours after posting the job online, the shifts were all filled. Now volunteers sign up for 2 hour shifts to prepare the giraffe puzzle feeder food.
Another proactive instance came when the aquarium manager mused about organizing ph data he had been collecting so Kathy offered him a volunteer who was computer savvy in spreadsheets.
At first he reluctantly turned over a month’s worth of data but when he received his data back in a neatly organized spreadsheet, he quickly turned over much more information to the volunteers.
That’s how trust is built. Kathy also found a way to incorporate seamstresses into the zoo’s programs. These volunteers make costumes for zoo presentations and also cold weather quilts for the education animal carriers. She also utilizes Spanish-speaking volunteers to help translate signage.

Kathy has found a great way to work with groups. She says that the community wants to be involved in zoo volunteering so she offers the community the opportunity to participate in Annual Enrichment Workshops (run by a volunteer and his family) where they can do meaningful crafts like make fishcicles or paper mache animals in bulk. These items are requested by keepers and ultimately given to exhibit animals as enrichment. She also utilizes corporate volunteer groups for some of the zoo’s larger events throughout the year.

But when I asked for Kathy’s advice to new volunteer managers, she grew wistful, “I would tell them to get ready for the ride for it’s all encompassing. It’s fun and rewarding but also sometimes sad because you have this personal rapport with the volunteers and you get involved with their lives.” She also would like a new manager to know that volunteer management is not a 9-5 job, as there are weeknight trainings and weekends spent recruiting or trouble shooting. She says, “there’s one of me and 450 volunteers. And they all want and deserve some of my time. That’s why my job is social.”
She told me that she had been a manager for many years before working at the zoo and it opened her eyes when she took a personality quiz and found out how high she scored on interacting with people. Volunteer management has fit that bill. Kathy spoke glowingly of being able to put a volunteer in a place where they can grow. Whether it’s a shy, sensitive teen or a senior who is feeling unfulfilled, she derives tremendous satisfaction in seeing volunteers bloom.
As you can imagine, Kathy is comfortable talking with anyone. She says, “I kid that I need one of those take a number systems outside my door. My office is right across from the volunteer room. Everyone talks to me, volunteers, staff, guests, even family and friends. If I wear my zoo t-shirt to the store, the clerk wants to talk to me about the zoo. So I take the opportunity to ask, how about volunteering for us?”

For me, it was easy to see why this volunteer program succeeds. Kathy Terlizzi, the volunteer manager, is both passionate and practical. I heard in her voice that she wants every volunteer to succeed, to have a meaningful experience, and to be part of something in which they can take great pride. It’s no wonder the Fort Wayne Children’s zoo is the number one attraction in all of Indiana. This zoo and volunteer program is a success story we can all learn from. I know I’ve taken away these principles from my conversation with Kathy:
1. Be proactive with staff-analyze their needs and offer volunteer help whenever possible-build that trust that volunteers can help and free up staff to do other pressing matters.
2. Invest time and thought into your training program-use levels to encourage volunteers to find their niche and don’t overwhelm them with all training at once, instead encourage them to take training in steps. Make sure that the volunteer opportunities are meaningful work.
3. Model professionalism and responsibility, especially to teens and they will step up to the challenge.
4. Be prepared to give your time and attention to every volunteer.
5. Create new opportunities whenever possible to expand your volunteer reach.
6. Take pride in your work. It’s infectious.

Thank you so much to Kathy Terlizzi for allowing me a glimpse into this very special volunteer program. It is volunteer managers like Kathy who take volunteering to the next level through dedication and a willingness to believe in volunteers.
-Meridian

April 22, 2015
Soulplasty

I didn’t make an appointment to repair my soul, because I really never stop to think that I need it. Every morning, I can see in the mirror how a face lift would go a long way to erase crinkling lines, but my soul, well it’s hard to see, at least in the daytime.
So, when, Hannah, a volunteer who roams the floor of a hospice care center came and got me, I wasn’t thinking about going under life’s knife, but then you have to know Hannah.
So quiet, she sometimes melts into the carpet, Hannah, at just over 5 feet tall, is like a submarine in shallow water. Her radar is spot on and in between her torpedo jokes, she gets to the heart of a patient and family. When Hannah summons you to “see this” you’d better believe it’s beyond cute or nice or lovely. It’s soulplasty. She summoned me on Monday to hear about a terminally ill man in one of the rooms. “I’ve been invited to be in on the ceremony,” she said as if I knew what the heck she was talking about.
“What ceremony?” I asked.
“The wedding.”
“Wedding? Who’s getting married?”
“He is, the patient, George.”
“Oh, wow, who is he marrying?”
“His live in girlfriend. I’m waiting for the chaplain.”
It didn’t surprise me that Hannah would be included in something so personal, so intimate, so life altering. She has this way of entering a room. She arrives, testing the emotional temperature with her eyes and ears, and becomes a part of the scene. She doesn’t throw out pleasantries, she’s all business and that business is the family in front of her. Her demeanor says, “I’m here and I’m all in no matter what’s going on.”
Our chaplain arrived. I really wanted to ask to join the group, but of course that would be about me and not about the patient so I picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper down the hall waiting to hear.
Hannah came out a short time later and nodded to me. It was done. I got some coffee and waited for Hannah to join me at a table in the lounge. She sat down and unwrapped her very long very chic scarf as if removing a part of a uniform.
“How did it go?” I asked.
She sat for a moment, processing and then spoke. “It was really good, he’s barely able to speak now, but he got the words out. He told her what he needed to say.” She choked up a bit and stopped. I could only just sit there and try to grab the emotions filling the room.
“What about his wife?”
Hannah smiled. “She positively glowed.” She twirled her scarf in her hand. “This was the one thing he insisted on, the one thing he had to do before he died.”
“Was it for a religious reason?” I gently asked.
“No.” She paused and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “He didn’t do it out of guilt, or responsibility, or some social expectation, he did it because for him, it was his own personal responsibility laid bare. It was out of pure love.”
We both grew quiet. Then Hannah said, “Do you ever get a moment when everything seems to make sense?”

Yes, I actually do.
Yesterday I spent the day helping honor veterans for veterans day. As I stood in the cold room of a Navy Pilot, he softly said, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Tears filled his eyes, and he shakily reached for my hand. I got close and felt his weakening life through his grip. He looked up at me and for a moment everything melted away, the room, the facility, the world. I could feel the battles, now distant, the coming home, the hard work, the family and friends, the joys and the heartaches. His voice, just a whisper now held the power of eternity.

It is this reparation of soul, whether we feel it firsthand or through the stories of our volunteers that give us sustenance. It is the interconnectedness of human to human to human and on that makes us do what we do.
I’m taking my newly repaired soul back to work and know that it will get battered with stress and challenges. But, at least I also know that another moment of soulplasty will come my way just when I don’t know I need it.
-Meridian

November 12, 2014
The Shiny New Coin

The shiny new coin, there is nothing like it. It actually has a scientific reason for its radiance. During the coin striking process, the mint luster is born. The coin isn’t shiny because the mint polishes it, it is shiny because the metal changes on a molecular level.
David is a retired physicist. When he arrived at new volunteer orientation, I honestly did not know what to make of him at first. A giant bear of a man, his full white beard and shaggy head of hair made him look like a cross between Santa Claus and a guy who just stumbled out of the wilderness. His soft shoes and wrinkled khakis matched his sleepy voice. “I hope I’m not late” he said quietly as he joined the others. The other volunteers, who had already arrived looked up at him and then at me as if to say, “Who on earth is this guy? And what will we do with him?”
Our class was fantastic as most volunteer orientation classes are. I love to watch the group dance around each other at first, then slowly as they learn their group rhythm, they take partners and switch as they emotionally swirl around the room, getting to know each other. As their comfort level increases, they relax and share opinions, histories, fears and hopes. It’s invigorating, educating and fulfilling all at the same time.
I thought David might be the wallflower, awkward and shy, unable to garner a dance with anyone, but I was wrong. In his calm voice he engaged everyone brilliantly, doing an emotional tango with each member of the class. Before long, we had lively debate and discussion, tempered with genuine care for one another. We met four times and I know I came away feeling refreshed. I hoped the class members did as well.
David called me several times before he was placed with a volunteer mentor and I got to know more about this shiny new coin. He had some experiences helping friends and relatives, but this was his first formal volunteering venture. We talked about questions he had regarding working with dying patients, and we talked about personal motivations. He was hesitant and hopeful and promised to call me after his first real experience.
David called me this past Monday morning. It was about 9am and as with every Monday, the week seemed daunting so when he called I sat myself down and tried to focus. “Hi David,” I said, “what’s going on?”
David asked me if I had time to listen and I of course said yes. With volunteers, any time is the right time. If we put them off, we’ll never carve out the precious time to hear what they have to say. As I settled in, David said that he mentored with a seasoned volunteer, Hal in a hospice house. He told me that Hal showed him around, teaching him all the little things that needed to be done. Then Hal brought David into a room with a patient, Mary. Mary, an 87 year old former cook from Ireland was lying peacefully, eyes closed in her bed, and Hal whispered a hello that hung in the air. He quietly told David that Mary did not respond to his voice but that he would often just sit with Mary so that she wasn’t alone.
“Would you like to sit with her while I check on other patients,” Hal asked David and he agreed, but was somewhat nervous at his first real experience.
David’s voice grew quiet, a breath in the line. “I don’t know what possessed me, but I sat close to Mary and looked at her face. Something took hold and I started singing softly. I sang “Danny Boy” to her and I don’t really ever sing, not much. I would imagine that she couldn’t hear me, but she opened her eyes and looked at me. And then she smiled, the most beautiful peaceful smile I’ve ever seen. When I was done, she closed her eyes again. So I sang another song and she opened her eyes again and watched me sing. Every time I would stop she would close her eyes, and when I would sing again, ever so softly, she opened her eyes. I can’t quite put into words, but I felt like we connected on a level so deep that time and place meant nothing.”
“Wow,” was really all I could whisper, caught in the still moment.
“Is it always like this?” David asked and I could picture him on the other end of the phone, his molecular volunteer structure lined up so perfectly.
What could I say? “The possibilities are yours to find,” I told him. (Just like we found you, a shiny new coin.)

My Monday melted away and I felt my molecules returning to their own luster. If I helped even just a wee bit in aligning David’s molecular volunteer structure, I feel honored and humbled and so fulfilled.
As we mentor the volunteers in our care, think of their volunteering as a newly minted coin, forged by inspiration.
The shiny new coin. There’s nothing like it.
-Meridian

October 22, 2014
Just a Ripple I’m Seeing

One day a few weeks ago, I was on my cell phone walking down the hallway when I noticed a woman speaking to the front desk volunteer, Molly. While listening to the person on the other end of the phone, I watched the woman engage Molly in conversation. As I talked, my attention kept darting back to the woman at the front desk. There was something about her.. something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She looked familiar, and I wondered where I had seen her before. I thought that she might have been a former caregiver who we had helped. I see caregivers all the time when they come back and thankfully want to give back. I studied her face. Her eyes, they just had this crinkly way of smiling as she spoke. And her chin, it was just so familiar, but really her mannerisms spoke to me. It was like losing your memory and seeing a good friend again for the first time.
Curious, I came closer and heard her ask Molly about volunteering. Molly was handing the woman a packet of volunteer information, but as I approached,
Molly saw me and said, “oh here, here’s Meridian, she can tell you more about volunteering.”
I caught the woman’s eye and as she looked at me, I felt deja vu. “I’m Bree,” she said, holding out her hand and we shook. Her hand felt like favorite family. We walked back to my office and she sat down, her eyes taking in everything as though she had seen it before, in another life. Then she smiled a knowing smile. “My name is Bree Phillips and I’d love to volunteer here.” Hmm, I thought, the name rang no bell, and I wondered if maybe she had changed her name. Bree continued. “I just moved here to be near my mother after having been through a long divorce. Because Mom is getting older, I need to take care of her. But I have some free time to give, and really, I’m here because of my father. He volunteered here many years ago.”
“No kidding,” I said, not recognizing the name Phillips, “who is your father?”
“George Keenon,” she said.
My mouth dropped open. “Your dad is George Keenon?”
“Yes,” she answered, “did you know him?”

Oh my gosh, it suddenly dawned on me, those eyes, her chin, the mannerisms, I was looking at a female version of George, a volunteer who was one of my all time favorite volunteers. In that instant, I felt like I was sitting with him again, enjoying his stories of growing up on a farm, his love for family and helping others. George volunteered during a time when sadly, male volunteers were scarce and he stepped forward to fill requests for a male volunteer to help male patients. He roamed the halls of the hospice care center, complementing the nurses and stopping to acknowledge a broken heart. I remember one day, when a patient was asking to see Frank Sinatra, George entered the room and she looked at him with a smirk and said, “whoa, you really let yourself go!”
Bree listened to my stories of her father and told me that before he died, he recommended that she try volunteering at a hospice. “He was always talking about his experiences here,” she said. ” I swear, he had this long, great career in business, but he spoke more often and more fondly about his connections to the patients.” Bree’s eyes brimmed with so much emotion. “I want to honor my father by following in his footsteps. I’ve got the time and I want to do something that lights me up the way it lit up my dad.”

Then last week, I had a new class of volunteers. In the class was a middle-aged woman named Holly Starfire. What an awesome name I thought as the volunteers introduced themselves. Holly was quiet, shy almost when it came time for her to comment on the icebreaker. “Why am I here?” she mused aloud. I think it’s because of my father who volunteered here a long time ago.”
“Who’s your father if I might ask,” I inquired.
“Hardy Pike.”
“What? Your dad is Hardy Pike?”
“Was,” she corrected. My dad died last year in Florida where he retired.”
Hardy Pike was a volunteer who, as a young man, had changed his name from David Toth to Hardy Pike because he liked the sound of it. It figured that he would name his daughter Holly Starfire. A big brute of a man, Hardy had blue-collar hands and a bohemian heart. He had built his own house from scratch and fixed heating and cooling units for a living. He loved fishing and poetry and could listen to anyone from little prim ladies to salty language gents. Hardy was an enigma. Everything about him pointed anywhere but volunteering, and yet, he faithfully committed to providing a pat on the back for the terminally ill.
“I grew up with a sense that the world is full of possibilities,” Holly told me, “and that giving back was more a possibility than a mandate. Dad spoke often about how good he felt when volunteering. He inspired me to find that too.”

Most of the time, we’ll never know the lasting impact volunteering has on our volunteers. There’s not a statistic for “volunteers who, in whatever area they live, go and volunteer because they’ve been inspired by someone we worked with”. We don’t hear the stories they tell their children. We can’t see their friends and relatives, who are inspired to go out and volunteer themselves. We’re not a droplet of water on the ripple, along for the ride. But if we’re lucky, we will get to meet a son or daughter or friend who comes because they want that meaningful experience they’ve heard so much about.
And, I figure, if I last long enough, I’m going to meet the next generation too.
-Meridan

September 17, 2014
Should I Be Crying?

Last week, I was talking to a brand new volunteer manager, who has been on the job for three months. I’m ashamed to say, but I’ve completely forgotten what it is like to be new to volunteer management, so listening to Amber talk about her experiences was enlightening. “I really love working with the volunteers,” she said. “They’re so, well, good.” She went on to say that the person who trained her, Simone, retired a month before. “Everyone loved Simone,” Amber mused. “They all came to her going away party. It was obvious the affection they had for Simone and she had been there for so long, that everything has her stamp on it. Replacing her is proving to be a tall order. I can see the volunteers trying hard to not compare me to Simone, but at times they just can’t help it. Simone was really great in helping me get to know the volunteers and for the most part they have welcomed me, but I know they miss her.”
Amber continued, “Just after Simone left, I had this volunteer, John come into see me. Evidently he was given an assignment by Simone and I just didn’t know I was supposed to follow-up with him. He was really mad and started berating me for not following up. I was so taken aback, I didn’t know what to say, so I just sat there and took it. But it really shook me up.”
Then Amber’s voice trembled. “I have to admit, I was so upset, I started to cry. I think all of it, the enormity of what I need to do, the aloneness I feel and then the yelling at me just overtook me. I went home and cried. Should I feel like this, I mean, should I be crying? Is this how it’s going to be?”

When you get used to the workload, learn to be kind but professional, cease to take things personally and develop your own methods of working with diverse populations of volunteers, the hard introductions to this profession are easily forgotten. As we grow into our roles, we become volunteer managers, or better yet, leaders of volunteers. As our passion overtakes our trepidations and our comfort levels increase, we become the people our volunteers need us to be. And we put away the tough times we had when we first started. I wanted Amber to know that.

Here’s what I told her:
On my bulletin board is a note from the daughter of a former volunteer. It is an well worn note, wrinkled, dusty some, a frozen piece of time from when I wondered if I was in the right job. At that time, I was feeling that so much was being asked of me, so much was expected without resources or help. Everyday requests were weights on my weary shoulders. Volunteers who said no disappointed me. I didn’t have a smile handy for anyone.
And then the note came. It was a scribbled phone message. It read, “Call Jessica, daughter of Ben Chapman.” Ben Chapman was a volunteer who had moved away to live with his daughter about seven years before. I hadn’t heard from him in a long time. With heavy heart, I called Jessica who informed me that Ben had died two days earlier. I had known this instinctively, as if we still had the long thin thread of connection. Ben was one of my all time favorite volunteers, a man who made me laugh and inspired me with his love for family, muscle cars and animal jokes. His persona would arrive before he did, like joyful radio waves filling a room. When he left to live with his daughter because of early Alzheimer’s, a song ended.
Jessica wanted me to know that he had died peacefully in the arms of his family. She told me how much his volunteering had meant to him, how much he loved coming, how much he felt a part of something meaningful. After all this time had passed, she thought I should know.
I told Amber that her moments would come, those moments that only she would feel and know way down in her soul that she was making a difference. I told her that she would experience long-lasting connections, the triumphs of pairing the right volunteer with the right clients, and the gratitude of a daughter who loved her father. I told her that she would orchestrate the ripples that move soundless across helping waters and that her diligence will give her volunteers buoyancy. I couldn’t lie to Amber. I told her that there would be days when it felt like no one understood, no one appreciated the quiet work or the persistent trying. Those days however, would be overshadowed by notes from a daughter and I asked her to keep her notes close by to reminder her.
And, I told her, you will acutely feel a myriad of emotions. Yes, you will cry, from frustration and sometimes anger, but mainly from being touched so deeply, you didn’t know you had those places open.
-Meridian

August 6, 2014
Of Swords and Cranes

That morning was filled with the chaos of emails and phone messages and the flitting of staff whose requests and questions settled onto my desk. As I scrolled through the emails and deleted the spammy junk, I then moved onto the “cute” emails from volunteers. I love that they feel close enough to send me their chain emails, even though the sheer volume is cumbersome. I came across a video from a volunteer about the random giving of 1000 origami cranes to strangers. Lovely music accompanied the surprised looks on the faces of strangers as a young woman shared her kindness with humanity. I’ve gotten plenty of videos before, random acts of kindness shared by the network of people in our volunteers’ lives.
As I closed the email, I looked up to see Stuart standing in front of me. Stuart is a volunteer who seldom requires any attention or help. As a matter of fact, I actually feel rather inadequate in his presence. A former Army officer and professor, Stuart has ridden the wings of power in circles I can only imagine. A tragedy brought Stuart to volunteer. His own personal grief, shared only in carefully guarded pieces has made him one powerful volunteer. Sometimes there is an incredible fusion in volunteers, almost like a big bang theory of worlds colliding that can produce an amazing giver. Stuart is one of those people.
“Hi Stuart,” I said, “what brings you here today?”
His face was intense, purposeful. “They called me in to sit with a patient.”
“Oh, of course.” In a millisecond, I switched gears. See, volunteer managers can change personas at will. It’s a skill that serves us well as we morph into the role we need to assume.
“Let’s go find out where they want you to be,” I said, getting up and heading for the nurses’ station. Stuart is an 11th hour, or vigil or whatever you want to term it volunteer. These are volunteers who sit with the dying who are alone at the end of the journey. These folks are incredible, and they take their jobs to heart with the fierceness of a soldier battling the forces that are trying to keep the dying alone.
Stuart was led to a room where a man was actively dying. He was alone, because his family was in route and Stuart would be the human presence until they arrived. The man was young, dying of melanoma and he had taken a turn for the worse during the night. His parents were on their way.
So, Stuart entered the room, inhaling the scene. He pulled a chair up close and sat down, his eyes riveted to the human spirit struggling to escape the failing body. Stuart took in the whispered instructions from the nurse then looked up a me and nodded once. “Go, I’ve got this, I’m on duty.”
As I walked back towards my office, I had to stop, so I paused at the water fountain. Such intense moments cannot be shrugged off so easily. I needed to feel the weight of a life ebbing away, to process the intensity of a volunteer giving of himself completely.
I returned to tasks, somewhat distracted, still feeling the energy of what was happening a short way from my workspace. I thought back to the class Stuart had taken on the imminently dying, and how, looking over the faces of the volunteers in attendance, I was struck by the sheer power of their will. Each one had their own story, their own reason to give so intimately and the humility of it all had been overwhelming.
These feelings lingered and I kept glancing at the door to see if Stuart would check in before he left. If he didn’t, well, I understood the why of that decision only too well.
A short time later, when thankfully, no one was waiting to chat, Stuart did come in. “Please don’t let there be any interruptions,” I said under my breath. He looked drained.
“They arrived,” he said, speaking of the parents. “They are with him now and he’s close.” Stuart’s face was lined with the responsibility of holding a soul in his hand.
“And you?” I whispered.
He smiled. “I’m good. I’m glad I could be here.” The myriad of inner emotions stayed inside where he prefered them to remain.
“Thank you Stuart.” I said, knowing that any other statements or questions would be lame, flat.
“Call me anytime.” He stood up, and shook my hand. “Anytime.” With that he turned and walked out.
There will be no You Tube video of Stuart. He has no message to share with the voyeurism masses. His is an intensely private journey.
Later, I checked with the nurse, and the patient’s parents were with him when he died. In their mix of hard emotions, the parents might not even realize that Stuart was there, not yet anyway. Would it matter to Stuart if they never did know that he spent that time between life and death with someone he did not know, yet cared about so deeply? Or would his reward just be the knowledge that he had spent the most intimate of moments with another?
I started the morning looking at a woman giving cranes to strangers, and ended the morning witnessing a soldier wield his proverbial sword to keep a stranger from dying alone.
Volunteering is of swords and cranes and sometimes, they mean the same thing.
-Meridian

June 4, 2014
The Song of the Weathered Explorer

Volunteer Appreciation week has always been a chance to reconnect with volunteers. There are those you see every day, those you talk to on the phone weekly, and those you only see at meetings. Each volunteer takes the right amount of interaction, praise and mental follow-up. Don’t think for a moment that an event is easy, so if after an event your head is swimming, that’s normal. Events take finesse and each volunteer that comes up to you takes a minute or two of intense volunteer retention. It’s worth every moment but it is exhausting.

There are a few volunteers who do not attend meetings, and they prefer to bob out there on the volunteering sea, wind in face, their hands skillfully steering them through storm and calm. They take little to no management interference for they have impeccable motivation, mad skills and they’ve circumnavigated the globe of helping far longer than they’ve been managed. Open their brains and a tide of experience comes gushing out. They are the historians, the pioneers, the explorers who have led the way in your organization.
I encountered Jenna at an event during volunteer appreciation week. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time so I was thrilled that she came. Jenna and I go way, way back. She was one of the first volunteers I recruited to work at a hospice house about 20 years ago. Jenna, a British transplant, married an American man and spent time tutoring local high school students in the fine art of composition. I even got to attend her swearing-in ceremony when she became a citizen. Back in the day, we roamed the halls of the house, imagining volunteer programs while caring for patients as we went. It was new territory to discover and Jenna was fired up to be in the middle of something unique and innovative.
Several years later, Jenna moved and she ended up visiting nursing homes in her new area. Another volunteer coordinator was now involved with Jenna and occasionally I talked to her new manager, Shelby, about how Jenna was doing.
“Fine, just fine,” Shelby would always say. “She pretty much keeps to herself though. I don’t have a lot of dealings with her. Sometimes I’m just happy if she comes to a meeting. But she does turn in her paperwork and the patients love her.”
Hmmmm. These conversations never felt like we were speaking about Jenna, at least not the Jenna I knew. But I always requested my hello be passed on to her.
So, during volunteer appreciation week, Jenna surprised me. She snuck up behind me as I was checking people in and popped me on the back. “Jenna!” I yelled and gave her a big hug. “Wow, I didn’t know you were coming!”
“I was in town,” she said, and smiled. “I figured you’d be here and I wanted to say hi.”
“I’m so glad you did,” I returned, genuinely pleased to see her.
Since the event took up time and effort, Jenna sat with some long-term volunteers that she knew. But after the event was over, she hung around and helped clean up.
“So, how’s it going?” I asked. “I heard you were visiting nursing homes. That must be pretty awesome for you.” I said as I crumbled up paper tablecloths.
“Yeah, it’s ok,” she offered, a bit half heartedly. “I love the patients, don’t get me wrong.” She stared at a candy dish.
“Then what is it?” I asked putting aside my cleaning.
“It isn’t, it just isn’t the same.” she said. “Don’t you miss those days when we first started? How the atmosphere was so exciting and we were the first ones to create so many things? All of us, staff and volunteers, we were in it together, we had this incredible chemistry and we did amazing work.” She traced the top of the dish. “I miss it. It just isn’t the same. I feel so, so ordinary.”
I put my hand on her back. “You, my friend, are an amazing, wonderful volunteer. We never could have done half the things we did without your vision and enthusiasm. Sure, I miss it. I miss you, too.”
She looked at me and I wondered where explorers go after they’ve discovered whatever it was they were looking for.
“Jenna,” I offered, “things have changed. Goodness knows, they’ve changed a lot and we couldn’t do today what we did back then. But you have so much to offer. Look at all you’ve done. That Jenna is still there. Still waiting to reconnect and imagine.”
“I think I might want to try some different volunteering.” She said it almost as a question, as though she might be disloyal.
She looked like a little girl who has been down in the claustrophobic cabin of the boat, itching to get her hands on the wheel and steer somewhere exciting.
“You should. Go for it, you don’t have to cling to this. Go out and find a fledgling volunteer group and do amazing things.”
She gave me a hug. “Thank you. And thank you for understanding.” As she popped a chocolate in her mouth she asked, “you do feel it, don’t you? It’s not the same, right? I’m not crazy.”
“No, you are most certainly not crazy. I feel it. But things never remain the same. And neither do we. So, grow, my friend and don’t look back.”
With that she walked out. I’m certain she will find another spot to volunteer. Whether she can recapture the excitement of newness and innovation remains to be seen.
So, until I hear from her, I will just picture her, spray in face, hands on the wheel, steering for the horizon and whatever new territory lies out there.
-Meridian

April 30, 2014
Oh, What We Don’t Do

Sometimes, don’t you just wake up on an otherwise lovely morning and stare at the universe and ask why?
Last Monday, the start of volunteer appreciation week, I woke up with a cold. Not just a sniffle mind you, a full-blown, sore throat, low-grade fever, laryngitis cold. Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. So, what does a volunteer manager do when faced with issues that keep good people home? Yep, we walk it off and go to work. After all, the volunteers are counting on us, and we feel this deep responsibility to our organizations, our volunteers and our work. Lame, huh?
So, after fistfuls of cold medicine (pinks and whites, no blues, they put you out) I attended all the events planned. In between balloons I sipped cough syrup while greeting volunteers. At night, I went to bed at 8pm (with the kindly help of the blue pills) and hoped the next day would be better. But the human body is a funny thing, it requires rest while healing. And rest is to volunteer appreciation week as dieting is to the doughnut shop.
Now during that week, there’s one big event. It’s a luncheon at a hotel complete with cloth napkins and those huge claustrophobic banquet walls. You would think that a luncheon would be easy, but it’s not. There’s seating and lists of who’s coming and checking people in and parking issues and who’s eating what and special diet requests and greeting and finding their fellow volunteers so they can sit with them and hearing how bad traffic is and listening to ‘how about moving this thing closer to me’ and fussing over emeritus volunteers and making sure the speaker has the proper sound and smoothing over hurt feelings because we don’t have you on the list and admiring new dresses and ties and stopping to answer an inane question by a staff member who is attending (no offense, that’s mean I know, but really guys, can you not help?) and pressing staff members to get in there and mingle for cryin’ out loud, and making sure coffee is served quickly and intervening when the wrong food comes out and well, you know.
So, I have this thing; I guess it’s a reputation or myth or something. But I am the one expected to get the party started if you know what I mean.
Yeah, I’ve dressed up in costumes, done skits, sung (and I can’t sing, not a note), did break dancing and the riverdance, once did an entire improv skit on why Daffy Duck is smarter than Donald Duck, worn outrageous outfits, sat in a lazy boy while in the bed of a pickup truck tossing out flyers, (don’t ask), worn various colored wigs at events, and brought my rubber chicken purse for good measure. You know, you’ve done it too. (fess up). Well, I’ve got the dancing started in lunches past and the volunteers loved it so of course they want to dance this year too. “Oh no, no one else can start the dancing, we want the warm familiar feeling of Meridian starting the dancing.” (now, I’m picturing myself doing this when I’m like 80 and all the millennial volunteers whispering “what the heck, is that woman having a seizure, should we call 911?)
By this time, I’m having a coughing fit, the pills have worn off and my throat feels like the bottom of the pop corn maker at the movies. The trio that is entertaining has been playing soft background music during lunch when I see a volunteer sneak up to the keyboard player and whisper in her ear. The trio immediately launches into the beginnings of Ike and Tina Turner’s “Rollin on the River.” It is a slow, slow industrial build up and everyone is pointing at me. So, what am I, a good volunteer manager supposed to do? I slowly walk onto the floor, taking my rightful place in the universe and begin to sway to the iconic introduction. After a moment, I turn around and look at the keyboard player and playfully ask in a throaty voice, “Is this all you got?” She smiles at me wickedly and returns, “No way, but can you take it?”
“Bring it” I shoot back and turn to the room full of expectant volunteers. (what the heck am I doing, a voice says that sounds oddly like my dear departed mother. I should be home in bed).
There is a pause and then boom, the fast and furious Tina Turner version wafts over me to fill the room. As if a volunteer manager switch has been flipped, my legs are flying and I am whirling around and around on the dance floor. I’m oblivious to the crowd who is yelling. But heck, this is what I am supposed to do. This is what they have come to expect and within 30 seconds, they’ve flooded the dance floor, laughing and pointing at each other. Ah, they are having fun.
Even though my chest hurts and I know I will pay for this tomorrow or probably the rest of the week, I dance on. My uninhibited crazy dancing is more than just a wacko spectacle. It is my signal to them that we’re family, we’re comfortable with each other, that we can be our lunatic selves with each other. It’s also a subtle way to say, “take a chance, don’t be embarrassed, we don’t judge.
So, after volunteer appreciation week, here’s to all of you who work with volunteers, you, who got there at 5am to start decorating, you, who stayed up late making goodie bags, you, who carefully created posters and printed pictures, you, who drove miles to find the right balloons and you, who danced like lunatics.
Here’s to you, who find that this week’s work is bigger than you anticipated and to you, who are sore and maybe just beginning to feel that scratch in your throat. Let’s try to get some rest, and take care of ourselves, at least a bit. Let’s look at our weariness as a badge of courage or conviction or maybe just craziness. And perhaps that extra picture you decided to put on the poster meant everything to that one volunteer.
Then, see, it was all worth it.
-Meridian

April 16, 2014
An Open Letter to Prospective Volunteers During Volunteer Appreciation Week

Dear Potential Volunteer:
Happy volunteer appreciation week. Although, you may not yet be a volunteer, by considering becoming one, you are one step closer to being one of over 100 million volunteers worldwide. We, volunteer managers, are cordially inviting you. And so, I am writing this letter to you personally. If you are interested, I’m going to ask you a few questions to help you acquaint yourself with the volunteer manager who will be your guide throughout this process. Let’s get started.
Because we appreciate your unique qualities, how do we support you while together we find your ideal volunteer niche? Are we to be your mentor, your cheerleader, your coach, or your teacher? Can you help us fill the role you need us to fill so that you can succeed?
What should we do to help bring out your best? Do we hover, give constant praise or would you rather we stay back and be available only when you signal you need our help? Can you give us signals that indicate you are doing well or tap us on the shoulder when you need us?
How often do you want us to call you? Every time we have an assignment? Are you ok with saying no to us or do you feel like you have to say yes? How will we know its the right time in your day or week or life? Can you tell us when things change so that we do not have to guess? (We usually are incorrect, just so you know).
Ok, if you’re still with me, let’s move on.
How much do you want us to know about you personally? Do you want us to know every deep detail or do you feel that lots of personal questions are, well, too personal? Can you help us get to know you as a person?
Will you understand why we ask you to respect our guidelines? Our rules are there for reasons. Sometimes, to be honest, the rules frustrate us too. If we ask you for a background check, can you be ok with us having to do that? We want you to know that we don’t think you are a criminal, we are just following requirements. It’s not that we don’t want you to volunteer and appreciate your enthusiasm, it’s that we must maintain processes in order to serve you and our clients. Can you think of it like this: If my mother (or father, son, partner, whomever) needed the help of a volunteer, would I want that volunteer to be thoroughly vetted by the organization?
What about awards and recognition? Would you feel left out if another volunteer was spotlighted or given an award? Are you the kind of person who says the limelight doesn’t matter, but secretly you feel slighted if we take you at your word and don’t formally honor you? This may seem trivial, but we really want to give you the type of feedback that fits your style. Meaningless praise is not what we are about. Can you help us to give you the recognition you’ve earned?
And what about motivations? Will you feel that we are psychoanalyzing if we try to get at the heart of your desire to volunteer? Will it bother you if we want to probe deeper than your desire to “just help?” Can you see how it helps us when we know the secondary reasons like you enjoy socializing or you need challenging experiences? Can we convince you that we are really doing our job if we gently probe about your recent losses or your former life challenges? Will you understand if we take more time acclimatizing you because we want to make sure that you will do well? If we ask you to wait six months or a year, can you see that we want you to come back after you have spent some time healing yourself? We know that volunteering is cathartic and healing and we have seen so many people successfully volunteer while mending their souls. Since this is a very delicate balance, will you understand we have a responsibility to the vulnerable population we serve and that being healthy and whole is a sound basis for volunteering? Will you let us work with you?
When you have a great idea, can you understand that we do not make policy and that we cannot always make things happen, at least not right away? Because organizations have hierarchies, will you allow us to go through the channels to get things done and understand that we can’t force processes to go faster? We get very frustrated too, with the sometimes slow go of committees and permissions. But having said that, volunteers all over the world have made tremendous improvements in their respective organizations. We most certainly do value your ideas and suggestions, so will you keep them coming? Your suggestions make us look good too. Just kidding.
We want you to know that we want you to succeed. Our jobs are to find you, (although oftentimes you find us) to orient you properly, to give you the attention and mentoring you need, to place you in a meaningful position that enhances your life while respecting your availability, and to do everything in our power to keep you coming back as a satisfied, productive volunteer.
You are the reason we have jobs, jobs we cherish, jobs we believe in. You inspire us, challenge us, educate us, lead us and keep us coming back. We look at each one of you as an individual, with unique perspectives, needs, goals and timetables. We want to support you while cultivating your skills and we are willing to invest time in you if you are willing to work with us. Our clients benefit beyond any of our imaginations.
Here’s to you, our future volunteers. Will you come, be part of our world? Will you seek us out and change our clients’ and your lives for the better? We want you to experience that almost inexplicable feeling of helping another human being. As one existing volunteer mused, “how can I describe what it is like, my volunteering with critically ill people? How can I describe the feeling I get? Its sorta like trying to tell someone who’s never been in love what it’s like to be in love.”
Come, our new friends, fall in love.
-Meridian

April 9, 2014
Living in an Inside Out World

Jack is a part-time manager of volunteers at a large animal rescue shelter. His Volunteers do everything from checking animals in to cleaning habitats, interviewing perspective adoptive owners, marketing and raising funds. Besides his volunteer manager duties, Jack is also entrusted with managing the shelter, which is oftentimes a seven-day work week. Jack recalled a day not that long ago that resonated with him. He remembered, “It was a day when major donors were going to be touring the facility. Our parent organization was also sending senior management to have a catered lunch with the donors in our conference room. Volunteers were expected to act as hostesses for the event, and I admit, that pretty much made me mad, but I asked two volunteers, Jeri and Liz, who I really get along with to come, and they decided to bail me out for the day and help.
On looking back at that day, I gotta tell you, I was anxious. I knew that I was a hard worker, a guy who took time with each and every volunteer, so that they could be an extension of me and my drive for a great shelter. I knew that I had brains and talent and was resourceful. I knew I had a head full of knowledge and could wow anyone who came into the shelter with my handle on everything.” Jack stopped there for a moment. “I knew and the volunteers knew that I had the shelter moving along like a well oiled machine. So why was I anxious?” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I wanted to show the higher-ups what a great manager I was, and on some level, I wanted them to be wowed and to immediately ask me to move up into senior management. I mean, clearly, a guy like me….” Jack laughed. “A guy like me doesn’t happen every day, at least that’s what I wanted them to see.
But,” he continued, “that day came, and there was a problem with the heating unit and I had to spend my time with repairmen. The senior managers never saw me, not once. Luckily, Jeri and Liz were there. They kept everything on schedule.” Jack sighed. “I was mad, mad at the universe, mad at management and the volunteers, and mad at myself. I seethed for a while in the back room, when Liz stepped in to see if I was okay. I think she saw the frustration I was feeling so she left and came back a few minutes later with a woman about 50ish. The woman had stopped in to make a donation to our shelter. She told me that a few years back, she had adopted a small older terrier named Betsy. I remembered Betsy. Betsy had been rescued from an abandoned house. She was literally found cowering in an empty closet. When we brought Betsy in, she had been so shy, almost withdrawn and we thought that she might not ever get a real home, but the volunteers worked with her until she was adoptable. The woman told me that Betsy lived with her and her mother, but her mother had died last month after a long battle with cancer. She told me that her mother and Betsy adored one another and that she gave her mother a reason to live. With tears in her eyes, she told me that she would always take care of Betsy and she thanked us for rescuing her.” Jack drew a breath. “I had an epiphany right then and there, and realized that I was in this job for the Betsy stories, not for promotions and praise and raises and titles. I had exactly what I wanted. That faulty heater did me a favor. It kept me from trying to be someone I’m not.”
Jack lives in an inside out world, just like every other volunteer manager. I think that deep in our hearts, we are searching for those moments that mean everything to the people we help. The outside world may try to tell us that we need to move up, that in order to succeed we need to have a mouthful of words in our titles. While the outside world might tell us that respect comes with a large office, our inside hearts remind us that self-respect comes from the stories about Betsy, or from volunteers who are inspired by our mentoring, or from clients who make it through their crisis with a volunteer we carefully chose for them.
In the scheme of things, there are those who get to do the work and those who don’t. There’s the medical personnel who save lives and the administrator who makes more money and has a title. There’s the teacher who shapes minds, and there’s the head of the board of administration who makes policy. There’s the volunteer manager who orchestrates pure altruism and the senior manager who sits in meetings all day.
We may not have the largest office or even a quiet one and we may not have the highest salary or even a salary to be proud of, but there is one thing we do have. You know what it is. You feel it inside everyday.
-Meridian

April 2, 2014