I attended a “send-off” the past Thursday night in Annapolis for a former Easton resident, a 35-year-old who was leaving her non-profit executive director position to start her own consulting business.
This young lady was praised by people 20-40 years older for her transformation of this non-profit, for her exemplary leadership, for her single-minded dedication to this organization, for her infectious enthusiasm, for her ability to bring people together, for her own personal growth.
People stood up to speak about this young woman and her achievements. They were saying goodbye, not because they wanted to lose her–but because they understood she felt compelled to start her own business. They felt sad but thankful.
Her mother stood up and thanked board members for supporting her daughter and confirming her values as a person and leader. Maybe she felt grateful that her daughter worked with people who shared the values that her mother and father instilled and nurtured.
Her father stood up and noted her gutsiness in leaving a comfortable academic setting 15 years ago to spend a year working at an orphanage in a poverty and crime-ridden city in Honduras. Maybe he thought she was showing that gutsy nature again.
The man who recommended this young lady seven years ago for the executive director job urged the search committee to place a high value on a candidate’s work ethic. That’s what he did, feeling rewarded for his support by all the compliments being heaped on the former Easton resident and him as well.
Then, this young woman, poised and confident, thanked everyone for all they did in building a non-profit with $600,000 in assets to one,seven years later, with $6 million in assets, to one with 20 donor-advised funds in 2007 to one with 80 such funds now.
Her passion was evident. So was her willingness to share the credit. So was her single-minded belief in the enduring value of philanthropy. So was her dedication to helping the poor and needy in Anne Arundel County as executive director of the Community Foundation of Anne Arundel County.
And so was her sincerity. My God, she was just so impressive.
Bess Langbein, born and raised in Easton, is my youngest daughter– and the unnamed young woman, for several paragraphs, in this commentary. It’s an extraordinary moment in a parent’s life to hear about a child’s achievements. Sometimes you never do. Sometimes you only have memories of past deeds and accomplishments. And sometimes you feel an incalculable pride, one that transcends any other moment of happiness. You want now- deceased grandparents to experience the ecstasy of joy you feel as a parent. You want childhood mentors to see what they too wrought.
Bess received gifts and goodwill. She received applause. She received hugs. She accepted her good fortune with grace and humility. She displayed class and gratitude.
She was raised in a town that supported and nurtured her. She benefitted from living in a place where so many people knew and liked her. As an adult, she chose to live close to her roots, a Bay Bridge away.
Returning home after a memorable evening, I felt proud, happy and hopeful–that hard work, enthusiasm, persistence and perseverance will pay off for Bess’ new business venture. I like her gutsiness; I love her character.
When Bess stood up at the end to express her thanks, she paused, choked up a brief bit and said,” You don’t cry in baseball,” the memorable line spoken by the Tom Hanks character in the movie, “League of Their Own,” a story about a professional women’s baseball league during World War II. Bess then proceeded to deliver her remarks in a strong, inspirational manner.
Her father felt like crying. Bess would have understood. Tears can come later.
Sharron Cassavant says
How proud you must be of your remarkable daughter! I suspect that she owes some of her willingness to strike out in new directions to her supportive father.
Have been meaning to write before to say that I consistently enjoy your astute perspectives and felicitous writing.