My MENTOR AND MY SECOND MOM
Last March, I was standing on a corner on the Vegas strip in gold sequined hot pants, a red lace bustier, and fishnet tights with my gay best friend from high school (scroll to the very end for photo evidence), when, of course, I pulled my phone out of my bag to check my email.
I had 7 new notifications, and that's when I learned that, a few hours earlier, Dana Lichty had died.
Dana Lichty was my mentor and my second mom.
I met Dana in 1994 when, as a 25-year-old recent college grad, I was hired to work as an Associate at her boutique fundraising consulting firm Shakin, Lichty & Boreyko.
SL&B was Boot-Camp for us new grant writers. We learned the science – and the art – of fundraising and communications. I honed my focus working my way through dozens of Barker Welfare Foundation applications; I was immersed in the myriad ways in which folks in the nonprofit sector transform lives through visits to Veritas' home for new mothers recovering from addictions; I met inspiring artists dedicating their second acts to nurturing young talent in neighborhoods all over the city – Betty Allen at Harlem School of the Arts and Jacques D'Amboise at National Dance Institute.
I was coached on how to bring heart, humanity, and compelling data to the page to create proposals that were funded by Robin Hood and Pinkerton; Guttman and van Ameringen; Cummings and Tiger.
All three SL&B partners were brilliant women. But Dana was the "cool" one. Eleanor Shakin was two generations older than us associates and formal in her approach. Lorraine Boreyko redlined every paragraph of every draft we gave her! Which probably made me good, but did not make me look forward to my one-on-ones with her.
Dana had a laid-back approach and was not one to wordsmith every sentence or get vexed about looming deadlines. She'd ask us about our personal lives and make suggestions about changes to the writing, always explaining why and letting us grow into our own voices.
Her kids would drop by the office after school sometimes; I got to watch how she balanced raising her daughters with running a business – not without some stress and heartache, but always with a focus on what was most important in the moment.
When I started my own family, Dana was the one to give me opportunities to do work that I enjoyed from home. We worked together closely (from our separate home offices) from 2002 until her retirement in 2014. We communicated almost every day during that time. Dana was relentlessly curious, and I have followed her model of immersing myself to learn about the programs and business of every client I work with.
Dana brought her whole self to client meetings – including her colorful fashion style and sense of whimsy, which showed up in her eyewear and playful jewelry from artist friends and travels. As I said, Dana had a laid-back air, but she was super sharp, super intuitive, and a very strategic thinker. She was more than fundraising counsel to the organizations she worked with, she was a strategic thought partner and executive coach.
I got to watch and learn; be listened to and encouraged.
When Dana retired ten years ago my husband described what happened after that as me "making partner." Of my firm of one at the time. I didn't know it, but I was more than ready to step into Dana's shoes. She never did any formal "training" or "transition planning" with me…I just effortlessly picked up where she left off, having learned from the best. And now I have my own little firm. And I am bringing my whole self to the work, the way Dana did.
The last time I visited with Dana was in April 2023. I was on a solo cross-country driving trip from New Jersey to Texas and I scheduled a stop in Asheville, where she lived and wrote poetry in her retirement. Dana told me she was busy packing for an upcoming move. But I persisted and said – "I'll take any time you've got." I was not going to pass through North Carolina without seeing her. We agreed to meet for an hour or so over coffee at her place. I asked her if there was anything else I should bring with the coffee. She didn't hesitate – "They have these almond croissants at the Whole Foods near my house…" I picked up two.
She looked the same – full of color, surrounded by her art and collectibles – even though I know she had spent a lot of the past few years sick and in and out of hospitals. She didn't finish her croissant, so I ate mine and half of hers. She didn't mind. She didn't judge me. We hugged at the end of our visit and I wished her well with the move. I got to tell her how much she influenced me and how I valued her friendship and mentorship.
I had been thinking about Dana during the week before she died. I said in my head a few times – "I need to reach out, send her a text." I later found out that at that point she was already unconscious in the ICU. I think Dana would have liked that I was in gold sequined hot pants, on the way to dance and sing at Madonna's Celebration Tour in Las Vegas, when I learned that she was gone. I still cried there on the Strip that night.
I think that, when we have people in our lives who make a lasting imprint on our own spirits, the best we can do is to honor what they taught us by living it and passing it on. I intend to do that for Dana.
For starters: 30 Fundraising Tips in 30 Days
Me in fishnets, as promised... I hope you started reading for the costume, but learned along the way something about Dana and how to leave the world a better place.
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