First, I would like to congratulate the eighth AMND committee on an incredible success last Thursday. The event went off without a hitch and the committee surpassed their ‘insurmountable’ goal. The presentation was one of the most moving we have ever held. There were few, if any, dry eyes in the castle that night. I have seen eight committees come and go; 2 before I joined the AMND family, and 5 after that. I can say honestly that there was something truly special about this committee. After Dave stopped teaching, we wondered if the committee members would ever truly understand what we did; that Dave exuded wisdom in his every move, his every anecdote, his every joke. That AMND was so much more than just a club. These students did. They became a part of our family the minute they walked into their first meeting, and they have made all of us – alumni, teachers, families, friends, community members – so incredibly proud. I could not be happier to report that the Eighth Annual A Midwinter Night’s Dream gala raised $521,028 for ALS research and families afflicted with the disease.

Understandably, there is something bittersweet about the events every year. In one regard, we celebrate the number of years we have held the event, raising more money each time. On the other hand, each year is another year that ALS has gone uncured, that Dave has suffered from this terrible illness, that all ALS families mourn their losses. 

If you haven’t seen the video posted on the AMND Facebook page of the committee members finding out how much money they raised, take some time to watch it. It is pure joy. One week ago, we felt remarkable success. Today, we feel staggering defeat. On Friday night, we found out that Dave was suffering from pneumonia in the hospital. It is with the utmost sadness that I tell you he will be entering end-of-life care tomorrow. I was lucky enough to get a chance to say goodbye today. But for those of you who didn’t, I will tell you that Dave’s teary eyes expressed two things: love and gratitude.  I can say nothing more than what I told him today:  he changed my whole life. Not only did he inspire me to pursue science and fundraising, he changed the way I view the world and every interaction I have.  In his speech to the graduating class of Northport High School in 2005, Dave spoke about the lessons he learned from his father’s death. He said, “I learned that life can be short. I learned that in the end, family and friends are all that matter. I learned that I should cherish every day as if it were my last. I learned that I should do the things that make me happy now. I learned that I should view the world and my life as a gift. I learned that I shouldn’t waste time being sad and grumpy.”

I speak for everyone who has ever been touched by Dave when I say that we learned all that and so much more from him. His strength and grace in the face of adversity will remain unmatched. How many people can truly say that hundreds of students, friends, colleagues and family members call them their hero? Dave can. He has touched us all in a different way. But I know I can speak for everyone when I say we will take his lessons and his wisdom with us wherever we go. We will never stop fighting this disease, and most of all, we will never forget his smile.

I love you bunches, Dave. Rock on.

A few weeks ago, we (and by we, I mean some of my favorite AMND Directors and I) went to the Project ALS Tomorrow is Tonight event at Lucky Strike Lanes in Manhattan. This was amazing for a multitude of reasons. First, Project puts on the most fabulous, star-studded yet somehow relaxed and might I say, delicious events in the non-profit world. I’ve been to this event before – the first was about 2 months into my first year in college. I remember looking around at that event, feeling nostalgic about living and breathing AMND in high school and thinking “I’m so old.” That’s the funny part about growing up, though. Four years later, I found myself at the event again, this time as a young professional. I looked around, took it all in, and thought “I’m so old.” Now for all of you rolling your eyes, I do realize that I am 22 and am actually anything but old. But growing up is a strangely unique experience when you finally realize you’re doing it. It is exciting, nerve-wracking, satisfying and stressful all at the same time. With growing up comes some pesky responsibilities (Like paying rent – who ever thought your salary could disappear so quickly?) but most importantly, you really start becoming who your parents, teachers, family and friends have molded you to be. That’s the unique part. I took a step back at the event the other week and watched myself and my friends act with poise and maturity while talking to celebrities, explaining our story and the devastating effects of ALS to guests, talking to world renowned research scientists and doctors, CEO’s and corporate sponsors, and to be honest, I was a little taken aback.

I think I can speak for all AMND alumni when I say AMND has prepared us to be adults a little better than any class, club, teacher or work experience ever could. As a professional in the non-profit world especially, I’m grateful for that. It’s an amazing thing to feel so accomplished at such a young age, and it’s something I will never take for granted.

While we’re on the topic of time flying, the event is around the corner! Could this really be number 8? I remember hearing about the first event over the loud speaker in high school. I can’t believe I am now not only removed from high school, but also from college. In an effort to keep heart palpitations to a minimum, Strasser put me in charge of the presentation last year. I’m really looking forward to that experience again. I’ve always enjoyed working under pressure, but having 550 eyes staring at a screen and microphone, waiting for the show to go off without a hitch is a whole different kind of pressure — the kind I live for! I’m really looking forward to the event this year and after my visit with Dave a few weeks ago, I know he is too. Providing a night out for ALS patients and caregivers is one of my favorite aspects of the event. Not only are we raising money for the cause, we are letting those afflicted with this awful disease put on a suit or a little lipstick and relax with 500 of their closest friends. It doesn’t get any better than that.

I hope to see you all there on January 12th! I’ll be the one in the corner of the ballroom dimming the lights.

It’s no secret that most teenagers can’t wait to start their college lives. The freedom from parental expectations, the less rigid class schedule, the social scene…what could be wrong with that? I’m not going to lie, college is certainly all it’s cracked up to be, but for some reason, I always craved life post-college. I’m convinced that this desire to work, live on my own and start my life in the “real world” probably stemmed from a slight (but healthy) obsession with the television show, Friends. 

Regardless, here I am in the post-college real world, reflecting on how I got here, and all I can think about is AMND. Like I said in my previous post, I wasn’t willing to let go of AMND in college. I brought it with me everywhere I went and I quickly became “the ALS girl” on campus. Even then, I didn’t realize what a huge impact AMND had made on my life and my career goals. I went to school for Chemistry with the intention of becoming a teacher. As I started my own club, volunteered at a non-profit nearby, and began work as an administrative assistant for a non-profit consulting firm, I knew that my future goals were shifting a little.

It wasn’t until I actually walked across the stage to receive my diploma that I realized the extent to which they had changed. With the “real world” no longer looming and now an actuality, I faced a dilemma. I had spent the year mocking my friends who spent hours and days on cover letters and interviews, confident that I would be attending Graduate school in the fall. Now I faced the banal tasks they had been complaining about all year as I looked for a job in the non-profit field. I’m lucky that it didn’t take long for me to find my dream job. I’m currently in my third week as Field Coordinator at the Huntington’s Disease Society of America and I couldn’t be happier.

It’s incredible to think that something I considered a club in high school changed my entire life. I have no doubt that I would be happy as a teacher, and that may very well still be in my future, but the feeling I get from working at a non-profit cannot be matched. As I reflect on the path that brought me here and watch as many other AMND alumni pursue careers in the non-profit sector, it seems clear that there is no coincidence we ended up here. AMND breeds do –gooders, and I’m proud to be one of them.  As Douglas Adams once said, “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” Stay tuned!

As the bell rang to end school I quickly jogged my way to the S-wing to attend an informational meeting about A Midwinter Nights Dream. I did not know much about AMND, I knew it’s goal was to fight ALS and that it hosts an annual gala but that was about it. Everyone in that room had the same intention to the person standing next Continue reading →

Seven years ago, I sat in a hot school cafeteria with a hundred other do-gooders and listened to what Mr. Strasser had to report about the recent happenings of the National Honor Society. It’s hard to believe that I now reside as an Executive Director of an official ALS non-profit – a seedling of an idea on that hot night seven years ago.  It didn’t take long after I attended the first Hoops 4 ALS to get hooked. Hooked to what? I’m not sure. Maybe it was the feeling I got after giving a little something back to a teacher who had given me so much. Maybe it was the camaraderie I felt between myself and my peers as we took on a mission bigger than ourselves. Or maybe it was just doing good.  Abraham Lincoln once said, “When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad, and that is my religion.” What better simple phrase to live by?
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In April 2010 of my sophomore year of high school, I sat in the AP Chemistry classroom in a little desk across from 5 AMND Board of Directors at my interview for the AMND committee. I sat there with sweaty palms, my “dress to impress” outfit and a new pair of ballet flats, trying to plan out my next answer to each question. Continue reading →