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Recent Entries

• We Can All Be Conservationists
• Giving Heroically
• If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First
• Last Letter
• Tax Smart Giving 2010-Style

Recent Comments

• By Kathy from the entry 'Giving Heroically'
• By Robert L. Thalhimer from the entry 'Giving Heroically'
• By Claudette Henderson from the entry 'Giving Heroically'
• By Eppa Hunton from the entry 'Giving Heroically'
• By Nancy Williams from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'
• By Jeff Cribbs from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'
• By Ellen Betzhold from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'
• By Tracy Schwarzschild from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'
• By Frances Goldman from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'
• By Kelly Decker from the entry 'If We Lose Cabin Pressure, Apply Your Own Oxygen Mask First'

In Grand Teton National Park, the impact of John D. Rockefeller, Jr.’s generosity and vision is overwhelming. On my way home last weekend I found myself exclaiming, “What a magnificent country we live in!”

Rockefeller visited Jackson Hole with his sons Laurance, Nelson and John D., III in the 1920’s, and he met with Yellowstone Superintendent Horace Albright. Albright wanted to preserve the valley south of Yellowstone, which has a magnificent view of the Grand Tetons. The land is home to bison, elk, bear, moose and other wildlife. The plains of sagebrush and grass were carved by glaciers, which piled mounds of rocks and soil to either side, supporting the growth of trees. The movement of tectonic plates forced up the jagged mountain range and formed the crystal clear lakes that for centuries have captivated the eye of photographers, artists and visitors.

In 1927, despite opposition from local ranchers, Rockefeller began amassing 33,000 acres, of which he donated all but 3,100 acres to create the Grand Teton National Park. A plaque on a boulder on Lunch Tree Hill, a short hike from the Jackson Lake Lodge where Rockefeller would sit to contemplate the beauty of the mountains, reads:

“This tablet is placed here in tribute to Mr. John D. Rockefeller, Jr., whose vision, generosity, and love of country have made possible the preservation of this region in its pristine beauty and grandeur.…June, 1953”

Rockefeller’s son, Laurance, continued his father’s philanthropic legacy by donating the remaining 3,100 acres, which had been kept as a family retreat until 2001. This gift may have been foreshadowed by Laurence’s opening address at the White House Conference on National Beauty in 1965, when he stated:

“Conservation today means far more than just preserving our natural resources. It means their wise use and protection so that more and more people may enjoy and benefit from them.”

Like his father, Laurance believed in the power of nature to restore and sustain the human spirit. He envisioned this preserve as a place where visitors could experience a spiritual and emotional connection with its extraordinary natural setting. 

Similarly, in Richmond we have impressive examples of local philanthropists who have helped Richmonders take pleasure in and benefit from nature. Major James Henry Dooley donated his home and property to the City of Richmond, which we now know as Maymont (www.maymont.org). Grace Arents, who was Lewis Ginter’s niece and heir, donated the property to the City that we now know as the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden (www.lewisginter.org). In today’s Richmond Times-Dispatch, we learn that Lora Robins, another great philanthropist and benefactor of Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden has passed away.

Richmond offers other opportunities to experience the power of nature to restore and sustain the human spirit. Just as the National Park Service makes it possible for us to experience spaces such as Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon and Skyline Drive in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains, the City of Richmond in 2009 put a conservation easement on the James River Park System (http://www.jamesriverpark.org/) as a phenomenal place to experience our extraordinary river ecosystem. Yesterday I watched a bald eagle soaring and diving with a juvenile eagle for over a minute, right here on the James River!

After a week of hiking in and gaping at the Grand Tetons—free of the distraction of television—I am ever grateful to the forward thinking philanthropists who made it possible for me to be inspired by our nation’s natural wonders. While few of us have the resources of the Rockefellers, the Dooleys or Grace Arents, we can all enjoy the restorative benefits of being outdoors and marveling at nature’s beauty.  Like these wealthier visionaries, we can embrace our responsibility to teach future generations to conserve nature—to use it wisely and to protect it so that more people may enjoy and benefit from it.

End note: You may also wish to check out some of the nonprofits that conserve our natural resources. Following are those most relevant to this blog posting:

Friends of the James River Park (http://www.jamesriverpark.org)
James River Association (www.jrava.org)
Chesapeake Bay Foundation (www.cbf.org)

On Monday, June 14th, I accomplished a goal. It should not have been so hard to do, and it took me about 35 years longer than it should have to do it. Whatever the hurdle was, I cannot say, but it must have been a very high hurdle for such a long period of gestation!

I gave blood.

What was I thinking to wait until I am 58 to give blood? I had to overlook countless blood drives. I must have been out of touch, ignoring this opportunity to give back as I watched each of my parents receive blood transfusions.

But the wisdom of giving back by giving blood finally began to sink in when my wife, then taking chemotherapy and now deceased, wrote to her friends on January 19th of this year, “I got a pint of blood yesterday, and will get another this morning. To all of you who donate blood, THANK YOU. Twenty minutes into the infusion, my headache was gone. Blood is a miracle. Donating is heroic!”

My colleague, Marcia Flaherty, is a regular blood donor and was my guide to Virginia Blood Services (www.vablood.org) at 9200 Arboretum Parkway (804-323-6307). I arrived to a clean, inviting and orderly environment, where I was greeted and quickly escorted to an evaluation room. As a first-timer, I had to answer a lot of questions to determine that I am an eligible donor. Upon passing the test, I felt confirmation that I am HEALTHY! YAY!

I felt like I had joined a club. Others in the room were either known to me, looked familiar or seemed like people I would like to meet. They were seasoned veterans at giving blood, relaxed, prepared with reading materials and shared cheery conversation. Some of the old hands were giving platelets, which takes about 50 minutes, while giving blood takes maybe 5 to 10 minutes after the nurses finish their prep work.

The recliner was comfortable and the nurse comforting. I have great veins, so I never even felt the needle, and I must have a good blood flow because in five minutes flat the needle was on its way out.

Okay, we must have truth in journalism, so I have to disclose that my experience did not end without a hitch. I felt so good about myself that I too quickly got off the recliner to head back to work, and by the time I neared the door I felt faint, sat down and eventually laid on the floor as I felt myself slipping toward unconsciousness. I was self-aware enough to know that you can’t hurt yourself when you’re already lying on the floor!

Everyone was so great to me! Immediately ice packs were brought for the back of my neck and chest, orange juice appeared for me to sip, and my brain which never fully lost consciousness began to un-fuzz. After about 10 minutes, I was escorted back to my recliner, where I was fed, cajoled and encouraged by everyone in the room. After another 20 minutes, my color was restored and I was off to my 3-hour afternoon meeting, which went swimmingly.

Here are some rookie mistakes I made, which you can avoid. First, drink a lot of fluids for a few hours before you give blood. Second, eat more than just fruit for breakfast! Third, give yourself a little extra time relaxing after giving blood and eat/drink something before you get up. These are basic rules of preparation, but you know us guys. What guy reads the instructions?

In today’s Richmond Times-Dispatch, there is a call for donors with blood types O, B and A-negative. Whatever your blood type, consider becoming a donor. I hope to see you at Virginia Blood Services before I become one of the seasoned veterans!

Dear Bobby:  Thank you, Thank you.  I have for a number of years run the blood drive at my church where I have heard all the reasons to procrastinate, etc.  However, what you did is part of a mission I, and others have, to give back to the community a truly renewable resource that saves lives.  I consider this to be part of stewardship of creation (although many environmentalists would contest this definition)!!!

We all know someone who has benefited from the blood bank, whether it is an accident victim, a child with a birth problem, a leukemia patient or, as you a cancer victim and (often survivor).  Blood must be available to every operating room.  If a particular type is not available, the operation must be postponed. 

Thank you again for bringing this issue to the fore with your many admirers.

Eppa Hunton

Bobby,

I applaud your heroic act of “giving the gift of life.”  I am 55 and had been a blood donor from the age of 18 until three years ago when my health prohibited me from continuing to be a donor.  My daughter who is 27 has been a donor since the age of 18.  My father who passed away on Father’s Day of this year, received a 15 gallon pin in his 60’s when his health prevented him from continuing to be a donor. 

Therefore, from a long line of donors, I applaud your new-found sense of purpose!

On a different note, I have been reading your blogs since the passing of your wife; however, due to work and my father’s rapidly deteriorating health did not take the time to responsd.  Now that I have taken the time to respond, I would like to let you know your blogs helped me tremendously with the transitioning of my dad.  Thanks for being so selfless.

Claudette Carter Henderson
River Counties Community Foundation
Kilmarnock, VA

I received the following comment in my personal email from Nancy Eberhardt, which I am sharing with her permission. Her observations add great value to this discussion.

Bobby-

I really appreciated this topic and you are so great to share your lessons.  I give blood several times a year, usually reminding myself to do it just before holiday weekends.  It has become my holiday gift to the community – Easter/Passover, Memorial Day, July 4 (abiding by the 8 week rule in between).  Your blog made me think about why I do it besides the fact that I always believe it is the easiest gift to give.  After reading this and with some reflection, I realized why I so enjoy doing it-

1)  I feel a real sense of community with the blood service workers and the other donors.  I don’t go because it is a social event, but it feels so purely “community” when there.

2)  It costs nothing so it is the purest of egalitarian giving.  It is not about financial capacity – everyone who is healthy has the resources to give.

3)  Time is not a deterrent.  There are few things you can do that mean so much that take so little time.

4)  It is the ultimate in anonymous giving.  I have no idea who will get it.  I just know that it will be someone who has the most need.  And they will have no idea who gave it.

Thanks again for causing this “ah-ha” for me.  And reminding me to schedule my July 4 appointment.

Hoping you are well-

Nancy

Nancy K. Eberhardt

Pathwise Partners

8065 Leesburg Pike Suite 310

Vienna, Va. 22182

www.pathwisepartners.com

Good for you Bobby. While B is always on the list of blood needed, despite how healthy I am, I will never be able to give blood.  I’m glad someone else will now step in for me.

The passage of time allows more reflection, and the 100 responses I received to “Last Letter” tell me that a sequel may prove useful. Many of you have dealt with disease—cancer or otherwise—of a parent, a spouse, a child or a friend. Many more face this future and don’t know it. So, today I will focus on four lessons I learned from being a caregiver, and I hope they will be valuable to you should this ever occur in your life.

Before beginning, let me disclaim that I am not a professional. There is ample literature you can and should read to prepare yourself. I found my resources through the Massey Cancer Center Library. The Cullather Brain Tumor Quality of Life Center at St. Mary’s Hospital is also an excellent resource.

I offer the following four observations purely from the perspective of personal experience.

1. “Our Lives Just Changed.”

At Lisa’s initial biopsy, the nurse was prepared to take six tissue samples; however, after she took the first sample from the site farthest from the tumor in Lisa’s breast, the other five slides were not needed.  The nurse obviously had found what she needed on the first try.

Lisa and I knew she had cancer before the doctor stepped foot in the room. I uttered, “Our lives have just changed.” We were shocked, scared. We struggled to absorb what was happening. When the doctor confirmed our fears we asked all the questions we could conceive, but we were neophytes in fighting cancer and had so much to learn.

The process of voracious information gathering began. Knowledge is power. We returned home and turned ourselves into internet search machines.

Overloading with information, however, became a problem. As we read through websites and blogs, we felt overwhelmed and even depressed. So, I sought out the librarian at Massey to help me sift through the information and separate what was valuable.

Thinking back to the first fearful moment of the diagnosis, I now reflect on the changes I subsequently made. No more golf. Fewer volunteer boards. Less of the fun things Lisa and I had enjoyed. During this initial “shock and awe” of Lisa’s cancer, I had no idea that a year later I would begin a reduced work schedule. Caregiving takes time. 

I immediately grasped the need to improve my conditioning. Caregiving also requires a healthy caregiver. So, I made time every day to work out. I started buying better quality food. I became more disciplined in my sleep habits. Caregiving is a marathon, not a sprint. I had to be in the best shape of my life to provide Lisa what she needed in the way of physical, emotional, intellectual and logistical support.

2. Constant Communication.

Every day I would return home from work and sit down with Lisa to assess where she was. Some days she had been with friends and felt on top of the world. Other days she was in pain, which shook her optimism to the core. On these days we would talk before I worked out, cooked or otherwise prepared for our evening together. All of my plans immediately moved to the back burner and we dealt with her feelings, fears and frustrations as job one.

I found that there are a thousand times a day that something can happen to change a person’s mood. A new pain. A careless comment by a well meaning friend. A gut wrenching interview on Oprah. When a person is sick, a tremor develops into an earthquake at warp speed. My role was to listen, to empathize and to discuss. Everything else was put on hold until this discussion had run its course.

Notice that I did not say that I offered advice! For those of us who are problem solvers, which characterizes 99% of the males in our species, we see an issue and we want to resolve it. Well, settle back cowboy because you can’t resolve this one! There are no certainties with cancer. I learned that there are only probabilities and choices, and as the caregiver my usefulness was in drawing these out. But when it came to the final decision on symptom management or major treatment decisions, Lisa was the decider.

I read in one of my resource books that a key tool in communication is to eat all of your meals together. At mealtimes conversation comes more easily. I learned firsthand that meals are indeed great opportunities for conversation, and the emotional dividend from this time together proved rich and rewarding

3. Stay One Lesson Ahead of the Class.

When I was teaching on the adjunct faculty at the University of Richmond I remember that each class took a lot of preparation. I am sure seasoned professors don’t have this problem, because they have years of lesson plans upon which to draw. A first-timer, however, simply cannot conceive of a semester of lessons all at once. You begin with a course outline, but you fill it out a week at a time, adjusting to the class discussions and staying a week ahead so you don’t get stumped by a smart student!

Caregiving similarly struck me as a planning issue. I had an idea of where things were going, but I needed to adapt many times along the way. I was always asking myself, “Am I ready if things don’t go well?”

A key tool for planning was what I called my “Scary Shelf.” I put all the research materials I had gathered onto that shelf, and I familiarized myself with what was in them. As Lisa’s symptoms progressed, I would pull them down and read ahead. Without preparation it is harder to remain calm in a crisis. I learned this lesson the hard way resulting in many late night panicky phone calls to her doctors.  Towards the end, I became skilled at staying one lesson ahead of what’s coming.  .

I got our legal house in order early on. We would have been shocked when the doctor discussed end of life documents had we not already executed Lisa’s Power of Attorney, Advanced Medical Directive and Do Not Resuscitate.  When an emergency occurs, it is always unexpected and there is no time to search. I had these documents in the bag I kept packed with necessities for any unexpected overnight at the hospital.

Financial planning is important. For some people financial planning involves how the monthly bills will get paid. There are resources, like Legal Information Network for Cancer (LINC), that help patients deal with these issues. Our financial concerns focused more on estate planning.  Several times during the course of Lisa’s illness, we re-evaluated and made adjustments to Lisa’s will and living trust. The decisions we made years ago as a young, healthy couple   needed to be reconsidered. Immediacy of death changes everything.

4. Caregiving Is a Team Sport.

As a person who prefers to give than to receive, the concept of someone caring for me was the hardest lesson of all. Yet, today, understanding the value of friends was my most life altering learning. A caregiver simply cannot be there 24 hours a day. And, even if you could it would not be healthy for either the patient or the caregiver. Caregiving is a team sport.

The more family and friends who are on the caregiving team the better. Lisa was energized by friends and family through personal visits, phone calls, emails and every other form of communication imaginable. We had a huge team participate in the Komen Race For the Cure. Four or five people would spend time with Lisa during each chemo infusions. Cards, flowers and rocks with inspirational messages proved uplifting. Afternoon meditation gave daily comfort, calmness and focus. Lisa evolved into communication central for an army of family and friends who loved her.  .

As a caregiver, I had to learn to concede some control. The network of family and friends took on a life of its own, and I needed to let that happen. I set limits to have personal time with Lisa and to have time alone, but I learned not to shut people out.

There was only one aspect in which I pushed these friends away. “Don’t bring food!” To me, diet control was an essential part of keeping both Lisa and me fit to run this marathon.
 
I came to realize that other family and friends were hurting, sometimes worse than me. I encouraged my adult children to seek professional help to share their feelings and experiences on losing a mother.  I noticed how friends with cancer were particularly affected by watching Lisa struggle. At times, I felt I was more than Lisa’s caregiver, and I became “Caregiver At Large.” What really surprises me is how enriching it was whenever I fell into this role.

So many people cared and wanted to know how I was doing. Fortunately, I used my exercise time, which includes yoga, to reflect and become centered. I had a couple of friends with whom I talked periodically and who asked wonderfully open-ended questions. I had an “impact volunteer” at Massey who kept in contact, and she was my ultimate back-up plan if I needed support. In the final weeks, Hospice of Virginia guided me through the dying process. Hospice is truly a blessing.

As I consolidate these four lessons into a comprehensive observation, I think the art of caregiving is to allow each of the caregiving roles to occur at the proper time—caregiving Lisa, caregiving family and friends, caregiving myself. So, I end this reflective piece where I began. Put your own oxygen mask on first, and then take care of your loved one.

Bobby,

What a rich and insightful message that you have been gracious to share with others.  I commend you for the willingness to help others through your own very personal experience.

Thank you,

Jim

Beautifully and thoughtfully written. Thank you, Bobby.

I am the true meaning of the “sandwhich generation” as I find myself caring for my elderly father who will be 80 suffering with dementia and my 5 year old daughter.

Care taking IS tough stuff. And you are right we ALL will find ourselves in this capacity at some point in life. Although our current medical advances are keeping us alive longer… which is a good thing in many ways…but with these advantages also can create some additional problems.

As this next generation will live longer than any previous group in history….many family members will be in the position to have to provide care as they age.

I love the work I do as a financial advisor as I know I can help people better plan for these events. But I am also amazed at how “reactive” people are instead of being “proactive” with their lives. I personally would pay anything to have a long term care insurance plan for my father. And I sure wish I was my parent’s advisor when they worked on their retirement plan many years when I was in college…because that was one thing they unfortunately never acted upon.

Now that I am in the business….I luckily have a long term care plan for my mother which she was (thank goodness) insurable when I got it for her 6 years ago.  I witness everyday the difficulties of taking care of my father….not only is it emotionally and physically draining….but the financial aspects make it that much more exasperating.

I truly do not know what our country is going to do when 78.2 million people will eventually need this type of care. I hope the government makes it a law to have this plan in place….just like car and home insurance…because if not…we (the ones that have been proactive, have the necessary financial resources, and have taken the steps to take care of our loved ones) will be paying for the ones that were reckless and did not plan properly.

I speak at many conferences and have even taught some college classes on this subject….Mark my words….long term care will be one of the biggest epidemics this country has ever experienced.

Once again, you have nailed your chosen thesis.  I will use some of your well-crafted words to help others who are care-takers to learn from your lessons.

Bobby:

Over the last year or so, I have too often and too quickly summarily deleted your blog posts (along with others) from my overcrowded inbox.  No more.  I have read your last several and all I can say is “Wow”.  You have delivered a remarkable gift to your friends and strangers alike in relating your touching and practical experiences, feelings and insights about caring for the love of your life as you and Lisa battled with her cancer.  Thanks for sharing this direct, sensitive and profoundly moving personal perspective.

Warm wishes,

T

Bobby, what a profound and heartfelt post.  It just goes to show that your Lisa died as lovingly and beautifully as she lived.  Thank you for sharing your story.

Bobby,
It is rare to be able to listen to one’s heart as well as one’s mind and then share the experiences in ways that inform and inspire.  Your Blogs consistently reflect the special nature of the person writing them and your ability to share timeless wisdom in such vivid examples of “right” living is a gift to us all.

Thank you,

Jeff Cribbs

Bobby,
Thanks.  Marcia Flaherty is my husband’s niece and she encouraged me to read your thoughts.  My husband and my 91 y.o. mother are both suffering with dementia and I lose my temper too often with them.  Your thoughts and experieces have helped me move forward for myself and them.  I have ordered and received the Mayo Clinic’s book entitled Altzheimer’s Disease.  It is written for the average reader but in the form of a textbook.  I hightly recommend it because it gives tips and a better understanding of all kinds of dementia.  I also get their new letter and hope someday to form a support group here in Mechancisville.  It’s like watching two people you love die slowly at the same time.  I will be interested in any other points you have to share.
I knew your Lisa was dieing because Marcia told me so a few days before I saw the obituary.  My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

My apologies to the readers of Bobby’s Blog for having let too many weeks pass without a posting, but I couldn’t write about this subject without some distance. As many of my readers know, I lost the love of my life three weeks ago to a virulent strain of breast cancer. My wife, Lisa’s aggressive attack on this disease, her journey through the emotional hills and valleys, the army of friends, family, survivors and medical professionals who covered all flanks to support her, and Lisa’s powerful sense of peace and purpose as she faced her final days reverberate in my mind as thoughts longing to be logically linked.

I was Lisa’s primary care giver, but I was not alone. We were supported by this amazing team of family and friends that covered every position on the field with excellence, compassion and bravery. Bobby’s Blog has always been about giving. In retrospect, Lisa’s team makes my prior concept of giving seem naive. These caring individuals coordinated people to take Lisa to chemo and to keep her company, visited daily, sent funny cards, made encouraging phone calls, I-chatted late into the evening, participated en masse as Team Zoom at the Komen Race for the Cure, and meditated at our house every afternoon.

Lisa coached her team through group email updates that altogether amass into an 80-page volume, as well as through personal communications too voluminous to comprehend. She wrote with passion and skill, keeping us focused and positive. She added humor, made more poignant by her dire circumstances. Lisa lived daily the lesson that while we cannot control life’s events, we can absolutely control how we react to them. She lifted us all, even as we lifted her.

Three weeks before she died, I watched as Lisa told her team of doctors that she didn’t want further treatment. The cancer had spread to her skin, and we all knew that meant it had spread extensively beneath. Lisa didn’t whimper or whine. She grasped control and focused on strategies to manage the pain. That evening, Lisa spread the bad news to her friends and we began an “open door policy” so that everyone could say their goodbyes. The team members poured in, and every waking moment was filled with joy. No tears were allowed, mostly. The meditation group nearly outgrew the room, which migrated by necessity to the bedroom, the intensity of their sessions increasing daily. Lisa’s sister, who is successfully battling an identical cancer caught at a much earlier stage, stayed with us for the final week. Our home became a nexus of connectivity, the energy from which could have lit a small city.

Lisa’s strength shone. On Thursday before she died, I drafted Lisa’s obituary in the wee hours knowing that she would want to edit it, which she did later that morning. The Rabbi came on Friday, and Lisa greeted him with a challenge, “Rabbi, we need you to resolve a dispute!” You see, Lisa and I disagreed about her funeral plans. I said to Lisa and the Rabbi, “You know, we have discussed many times during our lives that the person remaining makes the arrangements.” Lisa quickly countered, “I know, but I didn’t think I would die first!” End of story. Lisa made her own arrangements, allowing me a modification or two.

Lisa’s team began its final push down the field. On Saturday, the open door seemed more like a sluice gate in a flood. People poured in and out, after which Lisa was not the most tired person in the room! The meditation group gathered for its final time.

Early on Sunday morning, Lisa called her best friend, who had just returned from a weeklong trip, to visit. She held off her pain for this moment, after which she announced there would be no more visitors, telling us, “I have said all my goodbyes.” The final dying process, which would take two and a half days, began with her family surrounding her.

As Lisa’s body lost its strength, her spirit gained. She called each family member to her side and weakly voiced her hopes for the future. One by one, Lisa whispered words of advice. Then she gathered her remaining strength and addressed us as a group saying, “Don’t be afraid of dying. I am not afraid.” With that she closed her eyes and drifted into a peaceful sleep aided by morphine, which masked the pain she had so long endured.

We were stunned by Lisa’s courage, and we thought we had heard it all. Early Sunday afternoon, we found we were wrong. Lisa wasn’t finished with us yet. She opened her eyes and looked around the room at all of us and managed, “This must be really boring for you all!” Well, we erupted in laughter and our coach took it a step further. I had lent Lisa my back scratcher, which proved invaluable to calm the itching that accompanies morphine’s more beneficial aspects. Lisa motioned the back scratcher across the front of her throat as if it were a cane and said, “Someone needs to yank me off the stage!”

Monday was a day of watchful waiting, and the more superstitious of us were certain this day would prove Lisa’s last. You see, my mother, who more than once had been treated on the same floor at MCV with Lisa, had died exactly one year earlier. The family’s spirituality gained an ethereal quality on Monday evening, as a passing storm left a rainbow precisely an hour after Mom’s death the prior year. Ever persistent, Lisa’s body didn’t let go.

On Tuesday at nearly the same time in the evening, a second rainbow became visible from Lisa’s bedroom window. This time, her body was ready. My son, Adam and his wife, Becky asked for a moment alone with Lisa. They closed the door and told her their most closely guarded secret, which Lisa literally took to her grave—the name of their soon-to-be-born child, were it to be a boy or a girl. For the first time that day, Lisa’s eyes flew open and she tried to speak. There seemed a fleeting smile, her breathing changed and we were called back into the room. Our family held Lisa’s hands and legs, as her spirit left her cancer-ridden body behind.

We hugged. We exhaled. We cried. We called extended family and friends, who Lisa had instructed to spread the word to their networks. In 30 minutes, all of Lisa’s team knew. And, 15 minutes after that, my entire family was in my home—siblings, nieces and nephews—engulfing our nucleus in love and support.

How did Lisa gain such strength? How did she come to such peace in her final days? How could she remain so concerned for each of us, and how did she become so comfortable leaving her pain behind? These are the questions I have been pondering and now feel ready to answer.

Lisa gained her strength from all of us. Each person who drove her to chemo, each friend who wrote or called, each family member who brought dinner and spent time, each survivor who expressed encouragement, each online friend, every individual act of kindness accumulated into a mountain of strength that Lisa reflected back to us. What we witnessed and what inspired us, in reality we helped to create.

The story didn’t end with Lisa’s passing. The night Lisa died, our daughter, Jill took Lisa’s computer home to find a good photo of her. Jill didn’t know what she was else she might find, but she came across a file entitled Last Letter, written in February after a doctor in Boston had told us that her situation was dire (yet, still Lisa tried more chemo and radiation). The letter began:

“Dear Bobby, Adam and Jill,
  I promise to write individual letters to you, but wanted to start off with one to all of you together. I have read in books and watched the scene in movies over and over again where someone gets a letter and it starts off, ‘If you’re reading this, I’m dead.’ So dramatic!

But in truth, if you are reading this, I am dead.”

Dear Bobby -  What a lovely message.  Thank you so much for sharing.  Lisa is certainly missed, and your efforts to continually share insights and information as you do(even this personal message) is a blessing for our entire community. - Phil Whiteway

Bobby,

It is an honor and a priviledge to witness how poignantly and beautifully you and Lisa walked down the road arm and arm from that first meeting years ago until her recent passing. There is no question about her spirit living on in all who knew her.

You found a connection in each other that has and will forever survive the test of time. You assisted each other to become stronger individuals by simply being true to yourselves and recognizing the many values of the other.

Thank you for sharing the strength of spirit in both of you. Lisa and you bring an honesty of living with love and caring as an integral part of that which we call relationship with each other and with those around you.

You are perfect examples of how “paying it forward” not only works miracles, but it is simply the right thing to do as we move through the various stages of living.

John Myers

That is a superb writing, Bobby.  Thanks so much for sharing.  Sorry to learn of your loss, but loved your conclusion that you have a new generation on the horizon.  I wondered why you were not in attendance at our financial planning seminar in Richmond ten days ago.  Now I know.

Thanks for sharing this remarkable story of a remarkable woman and family.It will help many. You are a great man, Bobby.

Dear Bobby,

I am very sorry to hear about the loss of your wife.  It seems you had a wonderful support system in place.  Your letter really touched me and I will look at things totally different. My prayers are with you and your family.

Bobby,  Your words are so beautiful.  Lisa would have a hard time correcting your comments.  You paid a beautiful tribute to her life and her courage.  You know we will all miss Lisa even though she lives in our thoughts.  We will continue to embrace you and your family in our hearts.

Beautiful.

Thank you, thank you.  Lisa lives on.

What you did not note, my dear friend, is that both Lisa and you are totally selfless, completely giving people. The world is a better place for having had Lisa, AND YOU, as an example of how well marriage, groups, and society function when caring and loving people are involved. I hope you find peace and comfort in all the good memories.

Bobby,
Thank you for sharing the wonderful tribute to your wife and family with others.  Your message had special meaning and will be of immense comfort to all of us in the future.

Jim

Thanks for sharing the final chapter of Lisa’s story. She obviously spent her life caring for others and living life to the fullest. That prepared her for the moment when she could look back in complete satisfaction and be at peace. There is a lesson there for us all.

The timing of the arrival of Benjamin is nothing but a blessing.

Bobby,
What an inspiring writing.  You have been a long time teacher and mentor to me and so many others in our community-for this I am grateful.  Your open, honest comments have helped us all accept Lisa’s death.  I smile when I hear her name.  What a wonderful gift of life you and your family have with baby Benjamin. 
Peace and blessings,
Julia

Dear Bobby, All I can say is WOW!  You and Lisa are amazing.  Thank you so much for writing this.  Ginny MacIvor

Dear Bobby,

Thank you for sharing. Eventually all of us face tragedy and sadness.  I only hope that when I do, I can remember the grace and dignity with which you and Lisa moved through this journey. I admired your courage and desire to attend the Impact 100 event the other night.  Your message in the blog is further testimony to your family’s spirit.

Lisa Freeman

Bobby: I’ve read this now, a couple of tmes. Lisa and I were childhood friends, and had reconnected on Facebook. I was so glad for the opportunity to communicate w/ her - and could feel her strength and positiveness across the “internet wires”. I appreciate what you’ve shared here, as it makes me ever more proud to have known her.

Blessings to you and your family,
Lisa Marks

I am living with leukemia. I know my family will go through what you have gone through one day. My hope is that I can prepare them and strengthen them as Lisa did you, and that I can retain my humor and my compassion for those who will mourn me as well as she did. You have been through a remarkable journey. God bless you for sharing it; those of us who read it will not forget, and will - each in our own way - draw strength from all of you. Her love will forever guide you.

I was your teacher in the 7th grade- you lead the class in a “Happy Anniversary” song for me every Thursday following my marriage. Mac Pitt called me into his office and told me, “Lacy, I really can’t have you walking down the hall with a student’s arm around your shoulder.” You were the offender. Well, after 30 plus years of teaching your warmth and kindness still stands out in my memory. Please accept my sympathy for the passing of your lovely wife. I am in awe of the adult you have become and am so pround of you.

Thank you. This was beautiful, and Lisa will be missed.

Bobby, I am SO blessed and privileged to have been a small part of “Lisa’s team.”  For over a year Lisa sent out email updates telling us how she was doing, what and how she was feeling and most importantly, what she was looking forward to.  My life will, forever, be changed by what Lisa taught me about life AND living.  For those of you that knew her, I know you will never forget her smile, her laughter, her crazy creative spirit and most of all her never ending love for her amazing family and friends.  Thank you, Bobby, for the “last letter.”  xo

Thank you for such an inspirational and moving account of the strength and courage of your beloved Lisa.

The week of April 15 seems an appropriate time to think about taxes and how they affect giving. On February 24th, David Marotta of Marotta Wealth Management in Charlottesville, Virginia gave a presentation to the Financial Planning Association’s Central Virginia Chapter. He produced an elegantly simple chart showing the trend of the top marginal tax rates from the early 20th century to present. The unmistakable conclusion was that wealthy individuals presently pay taxes at historically low rates.

Marotta is far from a lonely voice in expecting tax rates to rise in 2011 and beyond. Many financial and tax advisors with whom I communicate echo his opinion. Tax rates are scheduled to rise in 2011 both on income and on capital gains, as the Bush tax cuts sunset. For instance, the top marginal personal tax rate will rise from 35% to 39.6%. The tax rate on long term capital gains will rise from 15% to 20%. Since our country is experiencing record budget deficits at the federal level, the urge for Congress to let tax rates rise is powerful.

The new Roth IRA conversion opportunity was Marotta’s main message back in February. For the first time, people with annual income over $100,000 can convert from a traditional IRA to a Roth IRA. In a Roth IRA, unlike a traditional IRA, you pay taxes before you put the money into the IRA. Offsetting this front end cost are avoidance of the minimum distribution requirement of a traditional IRA and less taxation on the back end for any non-charitable beneficiaries.

In analyzing these pros and cons, conventional wisdom remains to defer taxes for as long as possible. However, an expectation of rising tax rates might tip the scales. Before grabbing the phone and making the switch, however, consult with your financial or tax advisor as critically important nuances are involved and each person’s situation is unique.

What does all this tax discussion have to do with charitable giving?

At The Community Foundation, we have already worked with two donors this year who converted their traditional IRA to a Roth and recognized income in 2010. Both donors wanted to take charitable deductions in 2010 to offset this year’s taxes.  One donor funded a charitable gift annuity, which provides the couple income during their lifetimes and leaves the remainder charitably. The second donor created a donor advised fund, which beyond the couple’s lifetime will serve as a permanent endowment to support named charitable beneficiaries.

Equity investors may also experience extraordinarily high income levels in 2010, should they opt to sell appreciated securities and pay taxes at today’s lower capital gains tax rate.  Investors who harvested losses incurred during the Great Recession now have substantial unrealized gains in their portfolios as a result of the past year’s Great Recovery. Again, please consult your own tax and financial planning advisors before making such decisions.

There seem to be substantial reasons to recognize income in 2010, and some people have already gotten started. For those who have charitable intent, 2010 is the year to consider gifting strategies as well. Rembember, the best time to take tax deductions for gifts is when you have a lot of taxable income.