His cause is still relevant, but his fundraising is obsolete
My in-tray was overflowing.
Just as I reached for the first letter, slitting it open carefully and placing the envelope to one side, the secretary knocked on the door, waving a sheaf of email print-outs.
“Thank you so much,” I told her, motioning to an empty spot on the desk.
The envelopes were mostly bills, a few official thank-you cards, the occasional and very welcome check. I smiled when I got to Jerry Grossman’s. He was a good friend of the Va’ad, he really was. Every Rosh Hashanah, Chanukah, and Pesach, he sent “a little something,” usually a pretty generous “little something,” to say the least. One of our most loyal donors, never mind he lived way out in the boondocks and we rarely spoke. He knew about our work, believed in our goals, and sent his quiet support three times a year.
I took out a clean sheet of stationery to compose a few words of thanks. It was part of the ritual: Jerry delivered, I responded. Although we’d long moved from handwritten letters to digital, I knew Jerry appreciated my personal words of thanks. He once told me he kept the thank-you letters in a special file.
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