The STUFF Sisters - Philanthropy

Heaping Pile of Generosity

In the noisy jumble of a handcraft market stands a man we can count on to take our order, make us smile, and send us on our way. One day a few weeks ago, that same man made me cry.

In the noisy jumble of a handcraft market stands a man we can count on to take our order, make us smile, and send us on our way. One day a few weeks ago, that same man made me cry. His name is Mathias.

2005 Wings of Hope — Casey, Sloane & Susan, Wings of Hope 2005

A larger-than-usual pile of boxes was delivered that day, and that alone could have made me weep. In the pile was a smaller box. Smaller than the others. It was the second box I ripped into so that I could feel a sense of completion by getting it dealt with. However, it was the magic in the box that brought productivity to a standstill. It held a pile of lovely hand crafted pewter art pieces, a note in an envelope, and an invoice outlining that the art was a gift. Many gifts to be shared with our customers. The note was opened first, and the waterworks began.

Casey, Susan & Sloane, Wings of Hope 2006

One year – not so far back – we got to talking to Mathias about our Wings of Hope event when we saw him in New York. He is a great listener, and, when we were done telling him about the change we make with our holiday open house, he told us he wanted to give us special pocket tokens to give to our customers during the event. Mathias doesn’t talk much; hearing what people say is his strength.

2008 Wings of Hope — Casey & Sloane, Wings of Hope 2008

Mathias wrote the note that made me cry. He had a hand in the invoice adjustment, and he probably packed the box himself. But what blew me away – what has never happened before in the 16 years of our business – is the $100 check he included from his company. No company we represent has ever sent a donation to our yearly fundraiser. Ever. When I got Casey on the phone to tell her about the heaping pile of generosity we had received, she had to pull her car over because driving and crying is bad.

Together – here at STUFF, in a studio in Rhode Island, and in a research lab at the KU Cancer Center – change is in our hands. That goodness is what made me cry.

2010 Wings of Hope — Sloane with Einstein & Casey with Emma, Wings of Hope 2010

Join us on November 10th and 11th when our holiday open house, Wings of Hope, will magically fly again.

2011 Wings of Hope — Sloane & Casey, Wings of Hope 2011

In Passing

Years ago I went to a funeral. The gentleman we were celebrating that day was someone I didn’t really know very well, and not too personally.

Years ago I went to a funeral. The gentleman we were celebrating that day was someone I didn’t really know very well, and not too personally. He was the assistant to a charitable organization I was just becoming involved with. His passing took few by surprise, but it was tragic, as most deaths are.

What happened the day of the funeral that I will always remember was that I made a new friend. I knew few people in attendance but decided to sit next to a man who was as new to the same organization as I was. He was – and still is – a very polite, well dressed, caring man. He is able to stand quietly and think about the answer to a question that is posed in a hurried frenzy.

I sat down next to him. We exchanged brief hellos and polite niceties. Within a few minutes, my stomach began to growl. Not the quiet kind that you hear inside your own ear. Nope. The kind that has a crescendo that ends in a little “ping”. I was mortified. Here I was sitting next to a guy I barely knew, and I was making strange noises. I murmured an excuse, and he demurely smiled.

Then the most incredible thing happened. His stomach answered. It was like a mating call of the hungry. We smiled at each other with a bit more vigor, and then we let the funeral take hold of us.

There were tears. Many. I hadn’t thought I would cry quite so much for a person I barely knew, and I hadn’t packed tissues. My empty and tear-soaked hands soon held the pressed cotton handkerchief that he had gently put in my view for use. Our friendship has grown in the days that have passed since then.

This all took place almost 13 years ago. My friend and I have gone on to serve on two charitable boards together. We have had experiences inside those organizations that have left us laughing hilariously. Those same places have found us up against challenges that have changed us. In all the right ways.

Today he called to tell me a close friend had passed. A friend that had suffered long enough. He couldn’t get the words out. Tears and words were catching in my throat, and all I could ask him was if he was driving, because I wanted him to pull over. We were both a little bit over the moon in sadness. He was closer to our friend on a personal level. We had made a promise to each other to keep each other posted on any and all news about our friend.

This day found him making the rounds of the most difficult calls on the planet. He was telling the world that it was going to be a little bit darker for a while. That sadness and grief was going to consume us all, and then we would be better.

I know that, when I attend the remembrance for our mutual friend this week, we will find each other. Should he need it, I’ll have an extra cotton hanky in my handbag. I just hope we both remember to eat.

Cancer on the Run

On achingly beautiful days – days full of falling leaves, crisp air and sunshine – cancer lives with us. It doesn’t present itself, it just waits for us to find it.

On such a day not many days ago – with his cancer apparently on the run – our father met with two tumors that didn’t play with the team on the first go-round of chemotherapy. It was a day mixed with a little bit to celebrate and a whole lot to continue to deal with and worry about. Our dad needed a mental and emotional break from cancer – we all did – before starting his next therapies. He will now have to wait longer for that much needed break.

We at STUFF spend months preparing for our holiday open house – Wings of Hope – every year. This year, November 5th and 6th will be the days at STUFF that are meant to remind us that when one of us has cancer, we all have cancer. The days will be full of laughter, tears, food, drink, smiles and friendship.

Wings of Hope is special to us: we remember our family and friends lost to cancer, we re-commit to our fight to find a cure, and we thank the universe for keeping our parents – both cancer survivors – standing with us on these special days.

We hope you will join us at Wings of Hope and shop. We will proudly donate a part of your purchase to benefit cancer research at the KU Cancer Center. Our friend Susan Henke Miller showed us the way years ago – to keep cancer on the run we need piles and piles of research.

It has been the loss of friends and family and the battles in and outside of our tribe that have taught us that we can’t stop looking for cures and treatments.

Join us this weekend at Wings of Hope. Together, on these two special days – and every day – we can help find a much needed cure for all cancers.

Sisters, Co-owners and Believers in Hope

Horn Tooting

I haven’t always worked in retail. It is really, in business jargon, my second career. A career that I love, warts and all.

Previous to this stellar gig and after a short college career, I worked for a small advertising agency for two years, and then I was a political consultant for 13 years. Each of these jobs was full of horn tooting for my clients – media releases, television interviews, radio advertising. I honed my skills for getting to the root of the issue/cause and sharing that with the world. Please remember, STUFF has been in business 14 years, so the work I did in those businesses was before the advent of the Internet, Facebook and Twitter. Actually, while at the advertising job, I remember vividly when they purchased their first computer and moved the IBM Selectric III typewriters to the edge of the desks. Heck, right before that, the whole world sped up with the advent of the fax machine. Yep. I’m that old.

So it was with a rather experienced hand that Casey and I began the job of sharing with the world STUFF’s achievements. At times, I struggle with it, because I’d much rather talk about the artists we represent than the business directly. I’d rather talk about artistic processes than award nominations.

This week, we learned that STUFF was nominated for an award at the Dallas Market Center and that we were placed in the top 10 – those being the lucky few to move forward in the award process. I had had an inkling this was coming, because I had received a phone call from a marketing person in Dallas to ask me some “follow-up questions regarding our submission”, and I was struck dumb for a few moments because we didn’t nominate ourselves and had never seen a submission. We had been nominated by a sales representative for a company whose work we carry, and she had pushed our name into their sights because she was amazed by how much STUFF has given to charities in Kansas City. The award she nominated us for is titled “The Next Big Give” and is about small retail stores being involved in their own communities.

She’s right. We were a good fit for this award, and we are honored to have made the top 10. STUFF has a firm commitment to the neighborhood our business resides in, a passion for the city of Kansas City, and a dedication to the not-for-profit institutions that make this city tick and are central to its health. In the past year, we have sponsored events in our store and been involved with events for over 50 local schools and charities. In addition to that financial involvement, Casey and I have been directly involved with fundraising committees and are serving on the board of directors for six local institutions to help those organizations continue to flourish. STUFF also has developed a line of clothing and hats that celebrate the Brookside neighborhood, and a portion of every sale of those items goes to fund more benches and bike racks in Brookside.

Winning an award would be sweet. Winning an award in Dallas would be nice. But the number one thing that’s important to us is giving back to our community and knowing that we are part of the solutions for our city. When governments and their citizens experience financial crisis, basic human needs are usually the first to suffer – health care, education, safe transportation. When we opened our doors 14 years ago, our country wasn’t in a financial recession but we knew that civic involvement would be central to our mission. You can’t spend every working hour building a business based on representing local artists and turn your back on the communities that they, your business (and you!) reside in.

The response to our core mission from the people who shop at our store continues to humble us. They believe as solidly as we do in doing what you can locally to see a change globally. The community is our business. STUFF has made sure to be involved with institutions and organizations that not only meet a set of criteria but that also embrace our mission. We’ve made sure that our helping them is a good fit all around.

In our world, it really isn’t about the win — it’s about being in the game, celebrating a good time, and having good sportsmanship.

There. I tooted our horn.

Sloane

Peace on Earth

I have been wrestling with the issue of peace for over two weeks. Quietly and to myself in the few minutes of alone time I carved out of a rich and full life. At first I was troubled that I wasn’t doing enough to help find answers for the world at large as to why we don’t have peace that lasts in places that need it so desperately. This impulse to do more was brought to me by my inability to disregard the media. That same week, I listened to an article on KCUR about children in the Middle East – I truly forget what country and hate to lump them all together – where the children were talking about the ridicule they face on their walks to school and at school for having faith beliefs different from their peers and neighbors. Then I read an article online about Rush Limbaugh’s vitriolic “feelings” about Hillary Clinton’s beauty and power as is pertains to her job as Secretary of State, and then my head exploded.

I was not at peace in my soul.

I had an epiphany several years ago when I realized – possibly for the first time – that Casey and I were the “bosses” and no one was “workin’ for the man” any more – and never had been – at stuff. This whole small business ownership thing had put us in charge. We were the parents, the bosses, the leaders. No one was going to enter our lives anymore and tell us what to do. And for one fleeting moment I was scared. I knew I had been in a co-driver’s seat for a while, but the true meaning hit me hard that day. No longer would a parent of mine walk into the room I was playing in – while arguing with a sibling – and say, “That’s enough! Clean up this mess and be nice to each other right now.” And then to have us do so.

I wish to be Pollyanna-ish for one more moment and say that that’s what I wish we had in the world right now: someone we all listened to – and were maybe a wee bit scared of – that walked onto the world stage and said, “It’s time for you all to get along and find a way to play together. You’re locked into a long term relationship with each other – and this planet! – and you must find a way to separate church from state and find peace. And I mean right now!”

Just when I think the media is around to make me crazy and cause me to think too much, I read an article in National Geographic last night and felt peace jump out at me from the whooper swan you see here.

I gazed at this photo in silence and told myself that I will be finding more time in 2011 to continue working on causes and issues involving basic human rights, civil rights and financial empowerment for women and families. I will be one of those voices that says, “I’m a peacemaker, and I am at peace.”

Sloane

Church on Sunday

When I was a child, there was a billboard on Highway 50 near the Catholic church in Tipton, Missouri, that stated, “A family that prays together stays together.” It showed the Madonna and child, and, I believe, her hands were folded in prayer. I’ve never really forgotten it – great sky, spiking rays of sunshine, billowing clouds. It may be gone now; I don’t know. Today heralded a gorgeous blue sky much like that billboard from long ago,…

Team 16: My sister, my niece (with Emily), Lori, my mom, and my son.

Today heralded a gorgeous blue sky much like that billboard from long ago, and “Team 16”, as I have named them, rode 16 miles throughout downtown and northeast Kansas City. This was a serious cycling troupe due to the four experienced riders plus support staff in the from of two volunteers and one emergency / pace car driver.

This was the day of the 6th annual AIDS Bicycle Challenge – a charity event that my son and niece have been raised with. My niece rides tandem with my sister, who informs me that, when my niece pedals that third wheel, it’s bliss. When she doesn’t, she’s merely a wind foil and a lot of excess weight. My son agrees that my sister is correct when she says the “challenge” part needs to stay in the title of the event.

My mom not only paced her family and was there for any emergency that might arise within her flock, but she actually did assist a non-family rider who had tire issues, making a return trip to base camp with her new friend and the bicycle cargo before heading back out to check on “Team 16”. My friend Lori actually rode injured after a morning spent breaking up a feline wrestling match that clearly left its marks. When you bleed before you even get on your bike, you are truly dedicated. Harl and I were just pretty things that helped with registration and provided direction on the first turn on the route.

My son with his "leadership trainers", Josh Strodtman & Michael Lintecum.

When the riders had all returned to the park and my family was busy telling each other the amazing stories, that church billboard came screaming into my mind. I think we did actually go to church this fine Sunday. We were all together at the Church of Good Health & Community Involvement.

Church can be an amazing place. You can usually find one right where you are.

Sloane

PS…I was so proud of our son today. He was asked again to be the official starter for the three different races. We left him with the event directors, Josh & Michael, where he again learned so much about event management. And it filled my heart with joy to see my niece finishing all 16 miles with her mom while caring for her new American Girl doll, Emily. As she told me last night, “This is going to be Emily’s first AIDS party.” Proud isn’t even the word….

Lucky Update

Last weekend, I wasn’t able to attend what I just knew was going to be a fantastic fundraising event. The Coterie Theatre holds their annual fundraiser every year in early July, and it always seems to collide with my husband’s family reunion. I have never been able to go. Ever.

I was there in spirit. stuff trumped me, though: stuff was there in the form of two foot tall fully-lit carnival letters. I’ve written about them before, but the back story on how these letters became a part of the Lucky Lounge at the Coterie event is one of my favorites to tell.

My friend Jeff Church is the Producing Artistic Director at Coterie Theatre, and I met him for the first time 13 years ago in the T-shirt sales tent at AIDS Walk. Here was this happy, smiling man who had sparkling eyes, and he was very spirited and passionate about the cause. I immediately liked him. I’ve learned, as the years have gone by, that the tent he has worked in every year at the Walk is know for its “early in the day” cocktails. The tent I work in features Lamar’s donuts and Jell-o shots; his serves mimosas, bloody Mary’s, etc. Maybe that explains a bit of his “spirit”, but probably not.

So…early in 2009 I was out in front of the store setting up a new window with Casey. Jeff walked by and stopped in his tracks – and not just to talk. He was mesmerized by the letters Casey was hanging on the other side of the glass. He mentioned right then that the Coterie was doing a show in summer 2010 called “Lucky Duck”. He wondered out loud what the possibility was of borrowing these letters for their fundraiser in 2010. Now, here is where retailers and theatre producers are a bit different. Retailers see 12 months ahead, and theatre directors go even farther, planning whole seasons of shows 18 months in advance. He sees seats full of people at great shows taking away great memories, and we see everything we bring in walking out the door in the hands of happy customers.

I said, “No problem.” I knew it was highly likely that we would sell the letters long before then, but I was certain we could order in what we needed to fulfill his wish.

One month later, I was sitting in one of the Coterie’s sold out shows and knew a call to Jeff was in my future. I wasn’t looking to talk to the top dog because I was having a bad experience – not at all. I was just right then needing to know if stuff could borrow some of the set pieces and backdrops from “The Breakfast Club” when the set was struck.

The very next day on the phone, he said, “No problem.”

Our back to school window last fall was amazing, and his event last weekend was successful. I adore Jeff. Our friendship suffers from no problems.

Sloane

Prom Night

It’s true: I married they guy I went to prom with in high school. I only went to one prom, and I’ve only had one husband. I like the simplicity of that.

When our son was taking our photo in the neighbor’s yard before we jetted off to DIFFA’s “Dining by Design” last weekend, he smarmily stated, “It’s like Parent Prom.” He has a fantastic dry humor, and this aside had me smiling for several blocks as we headed downtown. And the next day, that same comment had me digging for a high school treasure, finally found in a frame in the guest bedroom.

What struck me the most about the two photos I’ve included in this reminiscence is that the back story for each one is almost the same – something old, something new.

In the photo from 1981, I’m wearing a dress I permanently borrowed from my mother’s closet. It was a stunning Ralph Lauren cotton dress that I couldn’t get enough of but only wore once. I followed a simple aesthetic then and stayed with pearl earrings and ballet flats. I can vividly remember that the boutonnière itched like crazy on my fair skin and left me with a rash. My husband is wearing a tuxedo that was his father’s. He had spent time at the tailor having the original garments trimmed down to a size he didn’t swim in. They were “tails” and I found it amazing.

In the photo from last weekend, I’m wearing a fantastic jacket that had hung in my closet for a long time but needed a renaissance. It found a second life in the hands of my dear friend Jon Fulton Adams and his trusty assistant, Ron Megee. I practically wept when it was delivered. It is piece of true magic. My charming date is sporting a rented tux but the memory of his long gone father is still there in the studs on his shirt and the cufflinks at his wrist.

Blog-20100507-Group — Our friends at a great party for DIFFA (Design Industries Foundation Fighting AIDS).

We hadn’t sported full formal attire for almost 20 years. It was a blast for a great cause, and we were with great friends.

I liked parent prom. Very much.

Sloane