Working together Part 3

How much of a difference can we make?

Last week I traveled to Lodi to visit Lindsey Pace, a teammate I worked with at Virgin America in the Guest Relations team.

Maria, who was also a member of the team, had orchestrated a visit to see Lindsey who sadly, has been diagnosed with cancer. Maria, with her can-do attitude, booked a flight to Stockton. I volunteered to be her wingwoman, happy to pick her up at the airport and thrilled to accompany her to visit LIndsey.

Maria and I at Klinkerbrick Winery in Lodi

The day didn’t live up to our hopes, as Lindsey’s mother was having health issues of her own, which precluded us from visiting. Maria and I, instead used the day to catch up visiting one of my favorite wineries in Lodi. It was a lovely day despite the sad circumstances of our reunion.

The drive home left me thinking… and here I am writing with another how much of a difference can we make challenge.

WAIT … please don’t go. Remember Marty Feldman?

Wasn’t he great in Young Frankenstein?

I know, he has nothing to do with this post. I’m grasping to keep you here. But he was great, right?

Hear me out. I promise you might like it. (How's that for mincing words?)

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Donating to Lahaina felt terrific. Not that we solved the world's problems, but we made a slight difference in an unfathomable situation for one family. That’s something to feel happy about.

Typically, when I hear about a significant catastrophe, I feel paralyzed regarding where to donate, knowing my small contribution will have little or no effect. That coupled with a lack of confidence in who my donation will help, the victims or the organization collecting the funds, I often stagnate. 

The experience of collecting donations for Lahaina was delightfully fulfilling. 

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In contrast, I don't like being asked at every turn for a donation. It seems most days I’m confronting the pressure, the guilt, the extended hand asking for help. I can’t buy our groceries without being reminded I should buy for those in need. It is overwhelming in tiny fractions daily. 

I wish for a different world.

Helping the Maui victims felt doable and easy, and I had no doubt who the funds were going to. That, coupled with working with my readers, doubling and tripling our funds, making the donation more significant, felt pretty sweet. 

Hmmm, this could be addicting. 

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There's a scene in You've Got Mail that stole my heart many years ago.

It's light and funny even when dealing with sorry subjects. As Frank (Greg Kinnear) and Kathleen (Meg Ryan) face the fact that they aren't in love, they lay their cards on the table during a dinner date. Talking about his attraction to another woman, Frank confesses, "I can't help myself," with Maggie laughing in complete understanding. Greg’s delivery of the phrase “I (slight pause) can’t help myself” continues to make me laugh all these years later. Of course, it's Hollywood, but nonetheless, in those moments on the screen, the seas calm, our paths seem a bit easier, and we are able to find humor in their journey, ie., our journey.

While I have no intention of changing the trajectory of my Substack, nor do I want to make you feel like I've forgotten what I just wrote above about not liking to be hit up too often, I've got another request.

I … can't help myself. 

Stick with me… this one's easy. What if we combine our efforts, $11, and a meaningful investment return? C'mon, we got this.

I've written often about my life-changing experience working for Virgin America. In my last few years, I worked on the Guest Relations team at their headquarters in Burlingame, California. 

In my first year on the team, I worked beside Lindsey Pace, a lovely young woman. Lindsey was my daughter’s age. A quiet soul, dedicated to doing her best, she was an asset to the team. 

We bonded over time, chatting about the often crazy calls we were receiving, but mostly about our animals. Lindsey had a Sharpei (I believe I've got the name right) which she adored. I enjoyed the photos of this ridiculously cute animal.

photo courtesy of Pixabay

The last time I saw Lindsey was at our final event. Alaska Airlines acquired the company, and our department was one of the last to be disbanded since we needed to finish all customer relations business before closing.

We had a nice dinner with festive amenities, like photo booths. I didn't partake of much except coming to say goodbye. When I saw Lindsey long into the evening, her parting words were, "You make me want to cry." 

It was the sweetest thing Lindsey could have said to me, being the crusader I am for crying. We had connected. She couldn't have paid me a nicer compliment.

In the years since, I've chatted with her on LinkedIn. We had hoped to meet in her hometown of Lodi to do a little wine tasting. In the last month, I learned that Lindsey has been diagnosed with advanced-stage cancer. Her friend has set up a GoFundMe account to help her bridge the gap between what her insurance will pay and the cost of her chemo. The goal is $15,000, and they already have raised $8314, which is a testament to Lindsey. 

So, sweet tribe, my second ask of what might become more over the years, is— how about we each donate $11 to Lindsey's GoFundMe?

You're likely cocking your head to the left, still standing erect, chin down, your eyes looking upward… asking why $11? (You did happen to notice all the yoga prompts, right?)

The suggested $11 contribution is doable, an amount you hopefully won’t hesitate to contribute (especially during the holiday season), knowing exactly where the donation is going and understanding that we can make a significant difference in our Yogini numbers. Since $11 is an odd amount, it will be easy to track our contribution and also because the number 1 is typically a symbol of unity.

This week, I reached 250 subscribers; thank you, dear Readers. Lover of numbers, if only 80% of my readers donate $11, Lindsey will have another $2000+ of her goal behind her. It will ease her stress factor, knowing she can afford her chemo, and allow her to use that energy to heal.

I'll close with these thoughts. They aren't meant to pressure. Instead, they are my tribute to this sweet girl, in hopes that my words will connect you with her. If it's not a fit for you, it's all good. I only myself sometimes connect. And I've allowed 20% of my readers to choose otherwise in my hopeful calculations.

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Lindsey is the poster child for calm, understated, quiet strength… coupled with powerful currents that lie deep, continually fighting their way to the surface to make a difference in the world.

Lindsey is my daughter's age. 

If you're my age, she's your daughter. If you're a generation ahead of me, Lindsey is your granddaughter. If you're my children's age, she's your friend. If you're part of the Virgin/Alaska family, Lindsey's your teammate, employee, partner, or mentor. 

Let's help our girl. 

$11, let’s lift Lindsey here.

And of course, it goes without saying if you have more to donate, please do.