Blog

My journey to loving fundraising starts with a story. I started my career as a young enthusiastic program director in the nonprofit world. I was hired by the YMCA and my area of expertise was fitness. Picture leg warmers, headbands, and those very becoming leotards. While I might be dating myself, some of you know exactly what I am talking about.

This October, the Donor By Design team is tackling spooky situations in development. Join us this month for hair-raising stories and cautionary tales of frightful fundraising! 

This October, the Donor By Design team is tackling spooky situations in development. Join us this month for hair-raising stories and cautionary tales of frightful fundraising!

A good friend recently returned a book I lent her a while back. How many books are sitting in your bookcase that you read so long ago their lesson has faded from your memory?

As some of you may know, this past year has been really rough on the Berglund family and me personally. Over the last seven months I’ve lost both my father and my mother. I was blessed with wonderful parents and enjoyed a great relationship with both.

As a cyclist, I have never really looked forward to the winter months. I’m fine with riding in cold weather (it’s all about the layers), but the real challenge comes from the shorter hours of daylight. Night riding on the roads of New Jersey is unsafe and unnerving to say the least!

Being a fundraising volunteer isn’t easy. One of the main reasons why is that it is so personal. It’s you, connecting with your peers, possibly even your friends or family, to ask them to be generous towards a cause you believe in. For even the most passionate volunteer, the experience can be a little nerve-wracking.

If you have been in fund development long enough, you may have found yourself in this situation:

There is a legend in baseball that one of the reasons Ted Williams was such a great hitter was due to his ability to see the seams on the baseball as it came hurling toward him at 95 miles an hour. Supposedly, his eyesight was so good, he could essentially slow the ball down, seeing the seam and curve of the ball, making it easier to hit.

Confession: I am a graduate of the Ohio State University. Having lived in Wisconsin for the past 18 years, I have endured the wrath of Badger fans and even a number of Michigan folks. Much of this comes from friends and seemingly sane people who really don’t like my Buckeyes. Even more so after the win over Michigan and 59 – 0 embarrassment the Badgers endured during their loss in the Big Ten finals to OSU. They don’t just dislike us; they hate us.