Beginning at the age of six, "charity" to me meant gala dinners and taffeta ball gowns. It was something big and involved traveling, award ceremonies and meeting Nancy Reagan at the Century Plaza Hotel. (My grandfather was president of an international charity.) The best part of my grandpa's favorite charity was the yearly telethon at a Hollywood studio where they gave away Big Macs and there would always be a cast member from the Love Boat asking for pledges. The Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders would perform and they’d shove a camera in the face of a boy with metal arms attached to hands that looked like forks.  I was both jealous of this kid's bionic arms and had a huge crush on him. He grew up to become a billionaire scientist in Eastern Europe.

My grandfather always told me that he gave because he was lucky to have risen from poverty to the heights of success in America and it was the right thing to do. He gave a lot. Mostly in the 80’s. Nobody would have guessed that the decade built on a wall of money would crumble alongside that of the one in Berlin, and that I’d have my own charity one day in the new millennium; one which could really, really use that cash that was so freely and frequently given to that big group back in the last century.  Cash that is needed for my daily little animal rescue struggles.

I am the CEO of a non-profit animal rescue called Hope For Paws, even though I sometimes fail to mention it to people who I meet. Does the head of the Red Cross ever not introduce himself as the head of the Red Cross. You know it’s the first thing he says even to strangers at the car wash, “Hello, I’m Gary, head of the Red Cross!”

So how does a small nonprofit stay afloat? Literally and figuratively, the answer is through connections. The Internet clearly has exposed us to an entire network of friends, donors and supporters. One has to be extremely dedicated and find like-minded individuals with their own nonprofits to bolster one another. I don’t know if the head of Greenpeace is calling up the main guy at the Sierra Club to get together and bitch about some logger.

By teaming up with one another and forging friendships, Hope for Paws won $25,000 in the Chase Giving Competition on Facebook. We also placed among the top ten finalists in the U.S for the one-million dollar prize. Even crazier, we placed among groups with actual offices, employees and budgets topping eight million dollars. The CFO, CEO, President, Vice President, Secretary and Treasurer are titles divided between my husband, me and two young, ambitious cats.  Last year we brought in about thirty something grand.  My “office” is a bed with a laptop and a dog on my shoulder.

In the words of the Rebbe Zev Braun of the West Hollywood Shul, “The good thing about being small is that we get shit done.” Nothing showed how out of touch and incompetent the big boys were as when bureaucracy and red tape prevented emergency supplies from reaching desperate Haitians. We small kids don’t have security detail, swag, or George Clooney on the horn tallying votes and giving major sass.

We do, however, slip under the radar and get our hands dirty. (Recently, I completed a rescue at an animal hoarder’s house where I got my hands really filthy.  I had to burn my clothes when I got home.) The downside is that you will bear the wrath of the insane and anonymous people on twitter, facebook, and blogs who tell you that a) “You think you are so great, but you’re aren’t” and b) “I’m going to stalk you lady!" 

Then again, you also bear the gratitude of the people who say because they want to, not because they want something, “Thank you for what you do.”  And that’s better than any hotel dinner or any sequined Nolan Miller original. However, in lieu of "gracious" comments, please donate.  It's a charity after all and the animals need your help. 

 

*NOTE (I must admit, my Grandpa has helped me out a LOT)