Lance Armstrong's comeback from testicular cancer to win the Tour de France more times than anyone ever thought possible is one of the most motivational, feel-good stories of the past twenty years. And then, as if that weren't already enough, he's used his cycling to raise dozens, maybe hundreds, of millions of dollars for cancer related services. The man's face and name and yellow rubber bracelets are some of the most recognizable, iconic images of the 21st century. In fact, I heard from a friend of a friend that Chuck Norris wears a special bracelet that reads, "WWLD?"
Which makes me wonder: How much money would Lance have been able to raise if the diagnosis weren't cancer, but HIV? Of the people and companies that stood by him when it looked like his racing days were over, how many would have still been there if he had announced he was HIV+ as the result of unprotected sex or sharing needles? Nobody can say for sure, but my spidey sense tells me that the answer is something along the lines of, "a whole lot less."
Although some cancers are correlated with specific risk factors, for the most part cancer is perceived as a disease that could strike anyone at anytime. You don't have to do anything to get cancer and there's not a whole lot you can do to avoid it. Consequently, there's very little stigma attached to being cancer+. Now contrast that to the history and common perception of HIV and AIDS in the US. Yeah, pretty different.
In part, it's thinking about stuff like that that motivates me to be such an ardent HIV/AIDS activist. The fact that people who contract HIV tend to be some of the most marginalized, least powerful, and therefore least supported members of our community really, really torques me off. I mean, come on, why does it matter who it is that's suffering? Suffering is suffering, dude. For me, this imbalance of regard and care for the HIV+ and at-risk-of-contracting-HIV community is especially maddening because unlike with cancer, we are 100% certain about how HIV is spread and it's 100% preventable. So with just a little more effort from The Man we really could have a very significant effect on reducing HIV's impact in our communities.
There is something about this unfairness of regard and treatment and funding for everything HIV as well as the lingering stigma attached to being HIV+ that obviously resonates very strongly with me. But I always feel inadequate to the task of trying to characterize it accurately to others or even myself. The best I can do is point to everything I do now and have done for the NorCal AIDS Cycle and the AIDS LifeCycle before that and say that all of that work and training is an attempt to somehow understand and soothe these intense feelings of anger and injustice that well up inside of me anytime I think about HIV and AIDS.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Saturday, November 6, 2010
40 Reasons Why: Reason #4 - Men on a mission!
For today's reason for why I'm raising $40G for HIV and riding the event itself on a tandem instead of on my single bike, I'm providing some photos of me and Jerry on this morning's NorCal AIDS Cycle training ride. I'll let you add in the reason.
Friday, November 5, 2010
40 Reasons Why: Reason #3 - Getting better at 'Thanks!'
40 Reasons Why: Day #3, Reason #3 - Getting better at 'Thanks!'
Confession time! And what better place to confess a deep, dark secret than in this private, intimate setting with just you and my 8.2e12 closest internet friends, right? Here 'tis: I am absolutely rotten at saying, 'thank you.' How rotten? This rotten: Back in '89 my folks threw a joint graduation party for my older brother (college) and me (high school). It was attended by tons of school and family friends, some who knew me since pretty much the time I was conceived, and I finished the day with a metric buttload of loot and $$$. Guess how many thank you notes got sent out from me to all of these generous people. That's right: ZERO! To give you some perspective on how significant that is: If you lined up all those thank you notes end to end, they would circle the earth exactly zero times. No, I'm not really proud of that.
Since then, expressing thanks hasn't ever come very easy to me. In my [weak-ass] defense, there were a lot of significant circumstances that led to zero thank you notes getting written after that party. But now that I'm at the starting blocks of my 5th decade, it seems like it's time to understand and get over whatever it is that makes it hard to express simple gratitude and thanks. I mean, come on, already! What takes less effort, yet leaves such good feelings, as a heartfelt "thank you?" It's right up there with, "I love you;" "You been working out?' and; "You wanna share these french fries?"
Which is where raising $40G for HIV comes in. In my past fundraising endeavors, the average individual donation size has consistently been about $40. So in $40G there's 1000 potential opportunities for me to say, write, email, and blog a little slice of gratitude. And don't forget all of the fundraising event venues, prize donors, riding partners, encouraging emails and phone calls, and friend-of-a-friend connections that will be/are part of raising all that cash. All told, that's a gajillion opportunities to be grateful and share those feelings of gratitude and understand what's made it so challenging in the first place and, ideally, make it easier to say thanks in the future.
And on that note, this past Monday's fundraiser at Sophia's Thai Kitchen raised $1000! So when it hits my account we'll be at about $17,500. Thank you ALL so much for that!
Confession time! And what better place to confess a deep, dark secret than in this private, intimate setting with just you and my 8.2e12 closest internet friends, right? Here 'tis: I am absolutely rotten at saying, 'thank you.' How rotten? This rotten: Back in '89 my folks threw a joint graduation party for my older brother (college) and me (high school). It was attended by tons of school and family friends, some who knew me since pretty much the time I was conceived, and I finished the day with a metric buttload of loot and $$$. Guess how many thank you notes got sent out from me to all of these generous people. That's right: ZERO! To give you some perspective on how significant that is: If you lined up all those thank you notes end to end, they would circle the earth exactly zero times. No, I'm not really proud of that.
Since then, expressing thanks hasn't ever come very easy to me. In my [weak-ass] defense, there were a lot of significant circumstances that led to zero thank you notes getting written after that party. But now that I'm at the starting blocks of my 5th decade, it seems like it's time to understand and get over whatever it is that makes it hard to express simple gratitude and thanks. I mean, come on, already! What takes less effort, yet leaves such good feelings, as a heartfelt "thank you?" It's right up there with, "I love you;" "You been working out?' and; "You wanna share these french fries?"
Which is where raising $40G for HIV comes in. In my past fundraising endeavors, the average individual donation size has consistently been about $40. So in $40G there's 1000 potential opportunities for me to say, write, email, and blog a little slice of gratitude. And don't forget all of the fundraising event venues, prize donors, riding partners, encouraging emails and phone calls, and friend-of-a-friend connections that will be/are part of raising all that cash. All told, that's a gajillion opportunities to be grateful and share those feelings of gratitude and understand what's made it so challenging in the first place and, ideally, make it easier to say thanks in the future.
And on that note, this past Monday's fundraiser at Sophia's Thai Kitchen raised $1000! So when it hits my account we'll be at about $17,500. Thank you ALL so much for that!
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
40 Reasons Why: Reason #2 - We're a long way from the street
40 Reasons Why: Reason #2 - We're a long way from the street
A little over a year ago, on Monday August 31st, 2009 in fact, I was laid off from my job with the UC Office of the President. Let's see...how am I supposed to phrase that? Oh, yeah: "Due to budget constraints the decision was made to temporarily cease operations at the Center while other, more cost effective ways to offer the program in these difficult economic times were developed."
The following morning, for literally the very first time since 1975 when I started nursery school at Mrs. Degenaro's -- NOTE: I'm sure that wasn't the name of the place, but that's what we called it. And I have no idea if I spelled her name correctly, 'cuz I couldn't read back then, either -- nobody was expecting me to be anywhere on that day or any day in the future. Up until that morning, I hadn't quite realized how much of my self worth was tied up into stuff like having a job, having professional responsibilities, just plain old having a profession, bringing home the bacon every day, and feeling like I had a place where I belonged where I and my work were valued. Nobody actually cut off my nuts, but it sure felt emasculating. If you don't belive me, try it sometime. I promise, you won't like it.
Of all the many wonderful things my very wonderful wife said to me during that time, the phrase that stuck out most was: "We are a long way from the street, Joaquin" Even though it felt like we were on the brink of financial disaster, we were lucky enough to have a ton of resources to fall back on if I wasn't able to find work right away: a generous severance package, including health benefits, from UCOP; some rainy day savings; a massive network of friends and professional contacts; two moms more than willing to help out; likewise siblings and extended family; and let's not forget our youth, our health, and our enterprising spirits.
Through the whole process of job searching and interviewing, "We're a long way from the street" became my mantra. Maybe not as fun as: "Sit back, relax, have a homebrew," but a lot easier on the waist line. Yeah, there were plenty of times when the mantra didn't help me get to sleep at night, but it sure did help to beat back the demons during my waking life.
Luckily, I found work very quickly. But even though we were never in danger of losing our house, our standard of living, or any other comforts we've gotten for ourselves, the experience and emotions of having been laid off, cast adrift on the pink slip sea, if you will, has stayed very close to the surface for me and continues to affect my every day life. Like getting engaged, the death of my father, 9/11, and the passage of Prop 8, it's become a defining moment in my life.
And that mantra, "we're a long way from the street," is something I think about almost every day, too. Except now it also makes me realize how many other people are NOT a long way from the street as a result of having been unemployed or having public services yanked out from under them due to budgetary cuts. One of my friends on the cycling team who works on the state budget said it best back in 2008: "Joaquin, people are going to start DYING as a result of this budget we're putting together."
People are not only on the street because of this economic downturn, they're out on the streets dying there. The tragedy is that with just a little extra funding, and maybe a shift in priorities here or there, they'd be off the street, getting better, earning a living. So this $40G thing, it's partly a reminder to me of how excruciatingly lucky I am to have such a great support system that helps keep the street further away from me than for most. And it's also an attempt to acknowledge that, while I view myself as a pretty capable guy, a lot of it is just plain old stupid, unfair luck and circumstance that puts me here and others out on the street. Raising $40G is my attempt to provide at least some relief where Lady Luck and The Man have fallen short.
A little over a year ago, on Monday August 31st, 2009 in fact, I was laid off from my job with the UC Office of the President. Let's see...how am I supposed to phrase that? Oh, yeah: "Due to budget constraints the decision was made to temporarily cease operations at the Center while other, more cost effective ways to offer the program in these difficult economic times were developed."
The following morning, for literally the very first time since 1975 when I started nursery school at Mrs. Degenaro's -- NOTE: I'm sure that wasn't the name of the place, but that's what we called it. And I have no idea if I spelled her name correctly, 'cuz I couldn't read back then, either -- nobody was expecting me to be anywhere on that day or any day in the future. Up until that morning, I hadn't quite realized how much of my self worth was tied up into stuff like having a job, having professional responsibilities, just plain old having a profession, bringing home the bacon every day, and feeling like I had a place where I belonged where I and my work were valued. Nobody actually cut off my nuts, but it sure felt emasculating. If you don't belive me, try it sometime. I promise, you won't like it.
Of all the many wonderful things my very wonderful wife said to me during that time, the phrase that stuck out most was: "We are a long way from the street, Joaquin" Even though it felt like we were on the brink of financial disaster, we were lucky enough to have a ton of resources to fall back on if I wasn't able to find work right away: a generous severance package, including health benefits, from UCOP; some rainy day savings; a massive network of friends and professional contacts; two moms more than willing to help out; likewise siblings and extended family; and let's not forget our youth, our health, and our enterprising spirits.
Through the whole process of job searching and interviewing, "We're a long way from the street" became my mantra. Maybe not as fun as: "Sit back, relax, have a homebrew," but a lot easier on the waist line. Yeah, there were plenty of times when the mantra didn't help me get to sleep at night, but it sure did help to beat back the demons during my waking life.
Luckily, I found work very quickly. But even though we were never in danger of losing our house, our standard of living, or any other comforts we've gotten for ourselves, the experience and emotions of having been laid off, cast adrift on the pink slip sea, if you will, has stayed very close to the surface for me and continues to affect my every day life. Like getting engaged, the death of my father, 9/11, and the passage of Prop 8, it's become a defining moment in my life.
And that mantra, "we're a long way from the street," is something I think about almost every day, too. Except now it also makes me realize how many other people are NOT a long way from the street as a result of having been unemployed or having public services yanked out from under them due to budgetary cuts. One of my friends on the cycling team who works on the state budget said it best back in 2008: "Joaquin, people are going to start DYING as a result of this budget we're putting together."
People are not only on the street because of this economic downturn, they're out on the streets dying there. The tragedy is that with just a little extra funding, and maybe a shift in priorities here or there, they'd be off the street, getting better, earning a living. So this $40G thing, it's partly a reminder to me of how excruciatingly lucky I am to have such a great support system that helps keep the street further away from me than for most. And it's also an attempt to acknowledge that, while I view myself as a pretty capable guy, a lot of it is just plain old stupid, unfair luck and circumstance that puts me here and others out on the street. Raising $40G is my attempt to provide at least some relief where Lady Luck and The Man have fallen short.
40 Days of Why?: Day 1 - Just look between my legs
Anytime I'm out on a ride and feel like I've forgotten why raising $40G for HIV/AIDS seemed like a good idea, all I have to do is look down between my legs for a reminder.
Because every time I ride, between my legs and under my ass you will find a $100 saddle clamped onto a $2500 bike rolling down the road on $600 wheels and a $100 pair of tires. Under the saddle is nestled a $15 pouch filled with $15 of tools and spare parts. On the downtube you'll find two $3 water bottles, each filled with $0.50 of energy drink. Since I'm a data hound, there's also the head unit to a $600 powermeter strapped to the handlebars. And if it's a night ride, there will be a $100 front headlight and a $20 tail light letting everyone know I'm out there tearing it up. And because I [almost] never ride naked or without a helmet, I'll be wearing $650 of cycling clothing, helmet, shoes, eyeglasses, chamois cream, and gloves. If it's especially cold or wet, tack on an additional $300 for warmer, waterproofier clothing.
Add it all up and that's $5000. Yeah, I know, right? And then consider that the last time I raced, I lined up against 49 other guys, each sporting about the same amount of stuff between their legs, under their asses and on their bodies. That brings us to a cool $250,000. In addition to 50 racing bikes and assorted paraphernalia, that quarter of a million bucks (?!?!?!) could cover a year's worth of maintenance and repairs to all of the AIDS Housing Alliance's permanent housing units, a year of rent for the Breaking Barriers office, a year of food for two families at Breaking Barrier's food closet, AND one thousand primary care visits at the Center for AIDS Research, Education, and Services in Sacramento. Next to numbers like that, $40,000 doesn't really seem like a whole helluva lot of money.
Now, I don't believe that all cyclists, myself included, are a bunch of selfish gits who waste their money on a too-expensive form of recreation. I will be the first and loudest person to tell any non-cyclist that the time I spend on my bicycle improves every aspect of my life and makes me a better, more mature, more balanced person. However, I'm also happy to blab at you about how taking some of that bike time, some of that bike money, as well as some of that bike karma, and putting it somewhere else, for someone a lot less fortunate, living much closer to, or past, the margin, will also help make me a better, more mature, and more balanced person as well.
Because every time I ride, between my legs and under my ass you will find a $100 saddle clamped onto a $2500 bike rolling down the road on $600 wheels and a $100 pair of tires. Under the saddle is nestled a $15 pouch filled with $15 of tools and spare parts. On the downtube you'll find two $3 water bottles, each filled with $0.50 of energy drink. Since I'm a data hound, there's also the head unit to a $600 powermeter strapped to the handlebars. And if it's a night ride, there will be a $100 front headlight and a $20 tail light letting everyone know I'm out there tearing it up. And because I [almost] never ride naked or without a helmet, I'll be wearing $650 of cycling clothing, helmet, shoes, eyeglasses, chamois cream, and gloves. If it's especially cold or wet, tack on an additional $300 for warmer, waterproofier clothing.
Add it all up and that's $5000. Yeah, I know, right? And then consider that the last time I raced, I lined up against 49 other guys, each sporting about the same amount of stuff between their legs, under their asses and on their bodies. That brings us to a cool $250,000. In addition to 50 racing bikes and assorted paraphernalia, that quarter of a million bucks (?!?!?!) could cover a year's worth of maintenance and repairs to all of the AIDS Housing Alliance's permanent housing units, a year of rent for the Breaking Barriers office, a year of food for two families at Breaking Barrier's food closet, AND one thousand primary care visits at the Center for AIDS Research, Education, and Services in Sacramento. Next to numbers like that, $40,000 doesn't really seem like a whole helluva lot of money.
Now, I don't believe that all cyclists, myself included, are a bunch of selfish gits who waste their money on a too-expensive form of recreation. I will be the first and loudest person to tell any non-cyclist that the time I spend on my bicycle improves every aspect of my life and makes me a better, more mature, more balanced person. However, I'm also happy to blab at you about how taking some of that bike time, some of that bike money, as well as some of that bike karma, and putting it somewhere else, for someone a lot less fortunate, living much closer to, or past, the margin, will also help make me a better, more mature, and more balanced person as well.
Monday, October 11, 2010
How to Raise $6500 In Spite of Yourselves
Wow, has it really been two months since I last posted on here? It's not like I haven't been working my butt off toward the $40G goal. I have been, I swear! Have you seen my fundraising total lately? Up from a respectable $4400 or so during my last post in August to over $12000 as of this morning. Yeah, that's what I'm talking about!
So, a wrap up of the 10/1 Rominger West fundraising dinner/music concert/wine tasting/silent auction throw down. Here's the short story: 100 people showed up and we raised $6500 while everyone had a grand old time!
The longer story, complete with pictures: Maybe ten years down the road when I'm 49 and contemplating turning 50 I'll have an appropriate set of words to describe the feeling of seeing so many friends and loved ones and their friends and loved ones show up to support the AIDS Cycle. But for now I'm limited to the unimaginative blogger's two BFFs, the adverb and the endash (or is it the emdash?): the event was really, really, jaw-droppingly, make-me-giggle-ingly fun and successful. Please correct me if I'm wrong, you superfriends who actually helped throw the party while I glad-handed and worked my way through all the drinks people were buying for me, but I think the most significant glitch of the evening was running out of forks and the crapass, but compostable, plates purchased by yours truly that started composting in your hand even before you were done eating. Other than that, the evening was perfect.
Going into the event I had no idea how many folks would show up or how much they'd be into bidding for the donated silent auction items. It wasn't until about an hour after we opened the doors, when I realized that over 50 people had shown up with a line of people out the door still trying to get in and every item had already been bid on, including $2000 for a custom AIDS cycle-inspired scuplture by Steve Nowicki, that I knew it was going to be a pretty big night. Here's that $2000 sculpture in Steve's shop:
And then Steve with the sculpture at the event itself:
But these photos really don't do it justice. In case you didn't make it to the event, here's an SAT/GRE-style analogy to help you understand how awesome the sculpture is:
Fake Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas : Real Eiffel Tower in Paris
Photo of Steve's sculpture : Steve's sculpture in person
One of the things I really like about the event was that there were a ton of ways people were able to contribute. In addition to the sculpture above, there were dozens of items folks were able to walk away with, many going for as little as $10. Here's an action shot of some of the other auction items working it for the AIDS Cycle:
And then here's a picture of Ann and me and the Mike Justis band working it for the AIDS Cycle. We're singing John Prine's 'In Spite of Ourselves.' If you're not familair with the song, here's a link. We were introduced to it over 10 years ago and since then it's become one of our favorite sing-in-the-car songs. We think it pretty much sums up the past 20 years of our relationship. There is a video of our performance but it sounds a lot better after several glasses of wine, so you'll have to come over (and bring some wine) if you want to see our version.
Here's a link if you'd like to see more pictures from the event.
To close, I just wanted to take a moment to correct a quote from the very first R-rated movie I ever saw, Conan the Barbarian. (Yeah, I was 11 when that movie came out. My dad took me to see it. That explains a lot, doesn't it?) Crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentation of their women is not, in fact, what's best in life. But our future Governator should be forgiven since when he uttered those immortal words he was only 35. As a soon-to-be 40 year old, I know that what's best in life is to crush grapes, see them fermented and then poured before you, and to drink them down while raising a ton of money for folks who really, really need it.
Fundraising Tracker:
Funds Raised to date: $12271
Funds Remaining: $27729 or $924.30 per week!?!?
So, a wrap up of the 10/1 Rominger West fundraising dinner/music concert/wine tasting/silent auction throw down. Here's the short story: 100 people showed up and we raised $6500 while everyone had a grand old time!
The longer story, complete with pictures: Maybe ten years down the road when I'm 49 and contemplating turning 50 I'll have an appropriate set of words to describe the feeling of seeing so many friends and loved ones and their friends and loved ones show up to support the AIDS Cycle. But for now I'm limited to the unimaginative blogger's two BFFs, the adverb and the endash (or is it the emdash?): the event was really, really, jaw-droppingly, make-me-giggle-ingly fun and successful. Please correct me if I'm wrong, you superfriends who actually helped throw the party while I glad-handed and worked my way through all the drinks people were buying for me, but I think the most significant glitch of the evening was running out of forks and the crapass, but compostable, plates purchased by yours truly that started composting in your hand even before you were done eating. Other than that, the evening was perfect.
Going into the event I had no idea how many folks would show up or how much they'd be into bidding for the donated silent auction items. It wasn't until about an hour after we opened the doors, when I realized that over 50 people had shown up with a line of people out the door still trying to get in and every item had already been bid on, including $2000 for a custom AIDS cycle-inspired scuplture by Steve Nowicki, that I knew it was going to be a pretty big night. Here's that $2000 sculpture in Steve's shop:
And then Steve with the sculpture at the event itself:
Fake Eiffel Tower in Las Vegas : Real Eiffel Tower in Paris
Photo of Steve's sculpture : Steve's sculpture in person
One of the things I really like about the event was that there were a ton of ways people were able to contribute. In addition to the sculpture above, there were dozens of items folks were able to walk away with, many going for as little as $10. Here's an action shot of some of the other auction items working it for the AIDS Cycle:
To close, I just wanted to take a moment to correct a quote from the very first R-rated movie I ever saw, Conan the Barbarian. (Yeah, I was 11 when that movie came out. My dad took me to see it. That explains a lot, doesn't it?) Crushing your enemies, seeing them driven before you, and hearing the lamentation of their women is not, in fact, what's best in life. But our future Governator should be forgiven since when he uttered those immortal words he was only 35. As a soon-to-be 40 year old, I know that what's best in life is to crush grapes, see them fermented and then poured before you, and to drink them down while raising a ton of money for folks who really, really need it.
Fundraising Tracker:
Funds Raised to date: $12271
Funds Remaining: $27729 or $924.30 per week!?!?
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
With friends like these...
…raising $40G ought to be a breeze!
[NOTE: My most sincere apologies for that horrible rhyme. It’s not me, it’s my upbringing. It has to do with growing up as an East Coast Filipino-American. Whenever my parents got together with their friends they would share the WORST jokes based on bad rhymes, puns, and word play. And it was considered especially hilarious if you took advantage of the Filipino tendency to switch the ‘p’ and ‘f’ and ‘b’ and ‘v’ sounds when speaking English. For instance, here’s a classic knee-slapper. Stop me if you’ve heard it already:
Q: How many bears were in the taxicab with Goldilocks?
A: Four. The Mama bear, the Papa bear, the Baby bear, and the Driver.
See what I mean? Yeah, just shake your head and pity me.]
So where was I? Oh, yeah, this morning I wanted to blog about another neat and unexpected aspect of this whole raising $40G thing. Twice now I’ve sent out not-quite-spam fundraising messages to everyone I can think of, letting them know what I’m up to, asking for help, and sending out updates on my progress. That’s a lot of messages. Exactly how many? Let’s just say that if everyone I emailed donated $26.67 I’d be at my goal. For those of you who prefer the Roman numeral system, I think it’s ‘MDM.’ But I could be wrong. In binary it would be…oh nevermind. It’s 1500 people.
I’ve sent out emails to a lot of people before, but never to this many all at once on a regular basis, so I didn’t quite know what to expect in the way of replies. I hit the ‘Send’ button and did the electronic version of a duck-and-cover, waiting for people, especially the ones who probably didn’t remember me, like the AT&T mobile service rep who helped us consolidate our phone, wireless, and DSL bills back in 2007, to e-flay me for spamming them at 5:30am in the morning. Imagine my surprise, then, when I started to get responses like the following:
“Joaquin this is awesome!!! I am so proud of you and confident you will reach your goal.”
“Love what you are doing!”
“JOAQUIN, YOU.... ARE... AMAZING :)”
“Love you, my power tool of a friend!”
I mean, really, how cool is that? Talk about your daily affirmation. And some of these even included donations. It motivates me to spam my entire email list every day if people are going to respond like that. Even the people who weren’t into it were extremely polite. Here is literally the only non-super positive response I’ve received so far:
“Joaquin, love what you’re doing and wish you success. But can you take me off your distribution list for future messages?”
Wow. I heart this guy even though he said no. Makes me wonder what a ‘yes’ message is like from him. The next time I get a chance to launder some big money for the former Chief of Staff of the deposed Nigerian Prime Minister I’m gonna use that response:
“Dear BELOVED. THANK you for this OPPORTUNITY to ASSIST with your RIGHTEOUS CAUSE and the GIFT of $4 MILLION US. But can you please take me off your DISTRIBUTION LIST?”
And then there are the folks who took the extra step and did some soliciting for me:
“I heart you! I'm racking my brain on how I can contribute to this fantastic cause. I may be able to convince a winemaker we work with to donate a barrel of wine made with Thomson Vineyards grapes for the silent auction you speak of.” NB: Not a case, but an F-ing barrel of wine!
“I checked with the band members about your fundraiser. Our bass player will be out of town, but myself and guitar player will play pro bono for ya'll. So, if you still want us, consider us booked.”
“Went out with a friend this morning, and mentioned your fundraising. She'd like to donate a clock for your auction! :)”
“I spoke with an artist friend of ours today and asked if he would have interest in donating something to your fundraiser in October. He thought he had something he could donate and said I could give you his number.”
Which just goes to show, my friends - you all - kick major butt. Thank you thank you thanks for all of this encouragement and support! You help make it feel like that $40G is just around the corner!
Fundraising Update, as of Tue, Aug 10th:
Funds Raised: $4415.00 or 11% of goal.
Remaining to Raise: $35585 or $912.44 per week.
[NOTE: My most sincere apologies for that horrible rhyme. It’s not me, it’s my upbringing. It has to do with growing up as an East Coast Filipino-American. Whenever my parents got together with their friends they would share the WORST jokes based on bad rhymes, puns, and word play. And it was considered especially hilarious if you took advantage of the Filipino tendency to switch the ‘p’ and ‘f’ and ‘b’ and ‘v’ sounds when speaking English. For instance, here’s a classic knee-slapper. Stop me if you’ve heard it already:
Q: How many bears were in the taxicab with Goldilocks?
A: Four. The Mama bear, the Papa bear, the Baby bear, and the Driver.
See what I mean? Yeah, just shake your head and pity me.]
So where was I? Oh, yeah, this morning I wanted to blog about another neat and unexpected aspect of this whole raising $40G thing. Twice now I’ve sent out not-quite-spam fundraising messages to everyone I can think of, letting them know what I’m up to, asking for help, and sending out updates on my progress. That’s a lot of messages. Exactly how many? Let’s just say that if everyone I emailed donated $26.67 I’d be at my goal. For those of you who prefer the Roman numeral system, I think it’s ‘MDM.’ But I could be wrong. In binary it would be…oh nevermind. It’s 1500 people.
I’ve sent out emails to a lot of people before, but never to this many all at once on a regular basis, so I didn’t quite know what to expect in the way of replies. I hit the ‘Send’ button and did the electronic version of a duck-and-cover, waiting for people, especially the ones who probably didn’t remember me, like the AT&T mobile service rep who helped us consolidate our phone, wireless, and DSL bills back in 2007, to e-flay me for spamming them at 5:30am in the morning. Imagine my surprise, then, when I started to get responses like the following:
“Joaquin this is awesome!!! I am so proud of you and confident you will reach your goal.”
“Love what you are doing!”
“JOAQUIN, YOU.... ARE... AMAZING :)”
“Love you, my power tool of a friend!”
I mean, really, how cool is that? Talk about your daily affirmation. And some of these even included donations. It motivates me to spam my entire email list every day if people are going to respond like that. Even the people who weren’t into it were extremely polite. Here is literally the only non-super positive response I’ve received so far:
“Joaquin, love what you’re doing and wish you success. But can you take me off your distribution list for future messages?”
Wow. I heart this guy even though he said no. Makes me wonder what a ‘yes’ message is like from him. The next time I get a chance to launder some big money for the former Chief of Staff of the deposed Nigerian Prime Minister I’m gonna use that response:
“Dear BELOVED. THANK you for this OPPORTUNITY to ASSIST with your RIGHTEOUS CAUSE and the GIFT of $4 MILLION US. But can you please take me off your DISTRIBUTION LIST?”
And then there are the folks who took the extra step and did some soliciting for me:
“I heart you! I'm racking my brain on how I can contribute to this fantastic cause. I may be able to convince a winemaker we work with to donate a barrel of wine made with Thomson Vineyards grapes for the silent auction you speak of.” NB: Not a case, but an F-ing barrel of wine!
“I checked with the band members about your fundraiser. Our bass player will be out of town, but myself and guitar player will play pro bono for ya'll. So, if you still want us, consider us booked.”
“Went out with a friend this morning, and mentioned your fundraising. She'd like to donate a clock for your auction! :)”
“I spoke with an artist friend of ours today and asked if he would have interest in donating something to your fundraiser in October. He thought he had something he could donate and said I could give you his number.”
Which just goes to show, my friends - you all - kick major butt. Thank you thank you thanks for all of this encouragement and support! You help make it feel like that $40G is just around the corner!
Fundraising Update, as of Tue, Aug 10th:
Funds Raised: $4415.00 or 11% of goal.
Remaining to Raise: $35585 or $912.44 per week.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)