Karen Grimord with Sargeant Daniel Roman, a patient at Landstuhl hospital in Germany. Photo courtesy Philip Jones.

To understand why Karen Grimord is so passionate about helping wounded soldiers overseas, just shake her family tree. Karen is a proud military brat who was born in a military hospital and grew up within the tight-knit, supportive community of military families. Both Karen’s father and husband retired from the U.S. Air Force after 22 years. At one point, five family members were serving in the Middle East at the same time, including her son and son-in-law. Karen herself worked as a military contractor for years, first for Lockheed Martin and later, for Raytheon.

Frequent moves and fast-forming friendships are hallmarks of the military lifestyle. So is a deeply rooted sense of mission and loyalty to country and the men and women who serve. That mission may be what drives Karen, 51, to commit extraordinary acts of charity through her nonprofit organization, Landstuhl Hospital Care Project.

Since 2004, the organization has shipped more than 200,000 pounds of donated clothing and supplies, often at Karen’s own expense, to wounded and ailing soldiers in the Middle East. The bulk of donated items are mailed to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, the largest American military hospital outside of the U.S. Karen also sends supplies to medics, nurses, and chaplains at more than 150 military units throughout Afghanistan, Iraq, and other Middle East countries with U.S. military operations. “If we can help just one military member with a gift, then I hope they feel the respect, gratitude, and the love we have for them. That’s what keeps pushing me on—knowing that it makes their future a little bit easier,” Karen says.

Her labor of love can be back-breaking at times. Working out of her home in Stafford, Virginia, she fills boxes with an assortment of requested items. A typical shipment might include sweatpants, Crocs, socks, towels, pillows, or blankets. Four or five days a week, she drives to the post office in her white Chevy Suburban, which she reluctantly purchased a few years back when the charity grew too large for her beloved Jeep to handle.

Sometimes, Karen is lucky enough to find volunteers to help. But often, it’s just Karen and her packing tape filling up boxes and taping them shut for their distant journey. Halfway through 2012, Karen had already shipped 946 boxes, a number on pace to beat last year’s tally of 1,713 boxes. In fact, supply and demand have grown rapidly since the charity’s first year when it sent its first 33 boxes of supplies. Karen expects demand will increase as other nonprofits close their doors or shift their focus to helping returning soldiers.

The organization grew out of a simple request from Karen’s daughter who was living in Germany, where her husband was stationed. Would she collect DVD and videotape movies and send them to wounded soldiers at nearby Landstuhl hospital?

Karen appealed to her circle of family and friends, collecting 485 movies. Grateful for her enthusiasm, the chaplain at Landstuhl asked Karen to collect sweatpants. Again, she turned to family and friends who donated 108 pairs. To her dismay, she learned the number was a “drop in the bucket” to meet the hospital’s needs. At the time, as many as 1,000 soldiers were arriving at the hospital every month, and their first stop was the Chaplain’s Closet, a place where soldiers received donated clothing and supplies to replace their tattered and bloody clothing.

Karen reached out to veterans groups such as the American Legion and soon, donations came pouring in. But the more supplies she mailed to Landstuhl, the greater the requests for donations. In just a year, word-of-mouth spread among military medics and medical staff in the Middle East about the woman in Stafford, Virginia, who almost never said “no” to a request for supplies.

“There was never a plan for me to start a nonprofit,” Karen says. “What started as one or two boxes turned into thousands.”

Karen knew she needed help with the legal and financial realities of running a charitable organization. Today, a small but loyal group of volunteers—many with strong military ties—handle accounting, communications, and other vital support services.

In addition to running her nonprofit, Karen also spends a month at Landstuhl hospital every year as a volunteer, handing out clothing and supplies from the Chaplain’s Closet.

It was at the hospital that she met Marine Lance Corporal Justin Reynolds. In 2006, the young Marine was recovering from shrapnel wounds and other injuries suffered when his Humvee hit an Improvised Explosive Device in Iraq.

From the start, the wounded soldier from Ohio clicked with Karen and gave her the nickname “Mom Two.” One day, Karen got a call from Ann Reynolds, Justin’s mother. The soldier had returned home to recuperate but suffered a stroke resulting in partial paralysis. Karen hopped in her car and drove to the hospital in North Carolina where Justin was fighting for his life. There, the two “moms” met face-to-face for the first time.

Nearly two years later, a second setback robbed Justin of his speech and motor coordination. Again Karen dropped everything to visit the Marine and his family, now in nearby Richmond, Virginia. “Karen has been such a great friend,” says Ann Reynolds. “If I need something, I call Karen. She knows how to get it.”

Karen’s devotion to Justin and his family is a clear example of why she works so tirelessly for wounded military members. Karen, her friends and family members say, is the kind of person who simply refuses to back down. Karen believes Justin one day will regain his speech and motor skills. Until that day, she will support him, just as she supports her charity—until every military member comes home.

To view a video of Karen Grimord, go to saturdayeveningpost.com/karen-grimord.

American Angel The Saturday Evening Post

Buddies for life: President and CEO of Miami Lighthouse, Virginia Jacko, with her guide dog Tracker. Photo by Scherley Busch.

Virginia Jacko was going blind. She knew it, but not everyone else did. Since the mid-1990s, her vision had been steadily deteriorating. Though capable of seeing people and objects in front of her, she might not recognize a person standing at her side. Finally, in 1998, then in her 50s, Virginia was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa, an irreversible disease affecting about 1 in 4,000 people in the United States. The disease attacks the cells controlling night vision and peripheral vision first. But in advanced cases, such as Virginia’s, it robs central vision, eventually leading to blindness.

So it was with trepidation that Virginia arrived at the office of the incoming president of Purdue University for an initial meeting with her new boss. She wanted to assure the president that she could still fulfill her responsibilities as the financial advisor to the president and provost.

For years now, she’d found ways to adapt her personal and professional life to an increasingly narrow visual world. She scouted out meeting sites ahead of time. She’d stopped driving, relying on taxicabs if she needed to get somewhere quickly. She prepared for meetings at night, her face close to the monitor so she could read words on the screen and memorize data on Excel spreadsheets. “I never got depressed or felt sorry for myself,” says Virginia. “Negative energy is just a waste of time.”

But that fateful morning in late 2000, as she reached the office of the president’s assistant, her heart sunk. The president had ordered new furniture that completely changed the layout of the room. Virginia realized she would not be able to navigate the space without help. So, thinking fast, she pretended to be running late for the meeting and waited for the president to step away from his office. When he did, she slipped in, guided by the assistant, and sat down on the couch. When he returned, she merely had to stand up to greet him.

The plan was a success, but the experience was a loud wake-up call that Virginia couldn’t ignore. She needed to learn to live as a blind person if she was going to succeed in a sighted person’s world. Her vision was getting to be too much of a problem to conceal. After the meeting, she called her husband Bob, a professor of civil engineering at the same university. She told him she needed to take a three-month medical leave. She would study at a vision rehabilitation facility.

One of her three children, Julie, urged her to check out the Miami Lighthouse for the Blind and Visually Impaired. Virginia and Bob owned a condominium in Miami, so she would have a place to stay. Once there, Virginia immersed herself in the world of the blind, honing skills she once took for granted, such as baking oatmeal cookies and sewing buttons on clothes. She soaked up everything she could learn about computer programs for the blind, including programs that convert text to speech. After the three-month program, Virginia felt a renewed sense of confidence. “I learned that a blind person can do anything a sighted person does. They just have to learn to do things differently,” she says.

At the end of her medical leave, Virginia was at a crossroads. She could return to her job at Purdue and continue to advise the president and provost on financial affairs. Or she could continue her efforts to regain her mobility by enrolling in a one-month, 24/7 intensive training program with a guide dog. She chose the latter.

By then, not only was Virginia completely blind but for the first time in her life, she was stepping into the future without a clear career path. Yet she was at peace with her decision. “I had changed. Walking out the doors of Miami Lighthouse as a graduate of the program, I realized that my passion was helping the blind,” she says.

Virginia’s husband Bob spent three months with her in Miami while she completed the program but, as a tenured professor, he had to return to Purdue for the new school year. Virginia would stay in Miami with her new guide dog Tracker, immersing herself in work at the Miami Lighthouse. She began as a volunteer, but such was her financial experience—and drive—that she soon became treasurer and a member of the board.

Not everything went smoothly for Virginia as she adapted to her new life. Once, while out on a stroll along a coastal walkway, Tracker stepped aside to avoid colliding with a woman pushing a stroller. The sudden move knocked Virginia off the breaker wall and she plummeted into the sea. Virginia calmly treaded water until someone lowered a ladder, allowing her to climb back up to solid ground.
Another time, she attempted to sit down for lunch at a restaurant in a major department store, only to be told she couldn’t bring Tracker into the restaurant. Not one to be easily thwarted, she stood her ground and seated herself with her guide dog at a table. That day, she called the company’s headquarters and advised that the incident would result in a public relations fiasco unless changes were made. In no time, the chain changed its policy, and it now provides Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) compliance training for all employees.

In early 2005, the president and CEO of Miami Lighthouse left unexpectedly for personal reasons. The chairman asked Virginia to serve as president and CEO on an interim basis until a permanent replacement could be found. Following a nationwide search, the board selected Virginia, making her the first blind president and CEO in Miami Lighthouse’s 81-year history.

Virginia wasted no time in growing the organization by offering innovative programming as she deepened relationships within the philanthropic community. “When I took over in 2005, we had one grant and today we have more than 30 active grant awards,” she says.

Thanks to her outreach efforts, revenue has nearly tripled, allowing the organization to vastly increase the scope of its services. Today, Miami Lighthouse teaches rehabilitation skills to people of all ages—from blind babies to seniors with low vision—allowing them greater mobility and self-reliance. Miami Lighthouse has become a center of excellence in vision rehabilitation because of its innovative programs, such as sound engineering and mobile eye care for low-income schoolchildren. All told, under Virginia’s leadership, the organization has increased the number of people it serves fourteen-fold to about 10,000 annually.

All of this on a budget that Virginia watches like a hawk. For five consecutive years, Miami Lighthouse has received the highest rating from Charity Navigator, America’s largest independent charity evaluator of financial health and accountability.

Virginia’s disability has never slowed her down. “Virginia is such a determined person. Having a deep faith; supportive family; and positive, can-do attitude are at the core of her success,” says Doug Eadie, co-author of Virginia’s autobiography, The Blind Visionary.

“I am so blessed,” Virginia says today. Her blindness, she feels, was a gift that allowed her to find a new mission and purpose in life. “We transform people’s lives at Miami Lighthouse every day. I lost my vision, and I found my passion.”

Out of the Dark The Saturday Evening Post

Natalia would suffer permanent injury to her upper spine. Physical therapy, massage, and acupuncture helped ease the pain, but her nascent career was over before it had even begun. “I feel fortunate because I can walk,” says Natalia. “But I can’t turn my head all the way to the left and right. I can’t bend backwards. And I can’t dance.”

To cheer up their grieving daughter, Natalia’s parents took her to Austria for a tour of the countryside where her favorite childhood movie, The Sound of Music, was filmed. One night, the family attended a concert featuring a musician playing, of all things, a carpenter’s hand saw. Natalia was entranced. The saw moved as if it was dancing. “It was the first time since the accident that I felt excited about something,” she says.

After the show, Natalia went backstage and asked the man if he would teach her how to play the saw.

He said no.

“He told me to go home, pick up any saw for carpentry, and figure it out.”

When Natalia returned to New York, she borrowed a rusty saw from a friend. She was able to make it sing, just a little, creating six distinct notes. Encouraged, she went to the hardware store and tested a few saws until she found one that played a full octave and a half.

Just like Maria in The Sound of Music, Natalia had found her calling. Within a few years, she excelled at this instrument, which produces a sound eerily like that of a soprano opera singer. “It’s amazing that a piece of metal can sound so human,” she says.

“The accident changed my life for the better. When God closed the door on dance, he opened a window into a whole new musical world for me,” she says, alluding to well-known words spoken by Maria in the popular film.

At first, playing the saw was just a hobby for Natalia. She would play the saw while on break from her job selling souvenirs in Broadway theaters. She practiced at home but always worried that neighbors would complain about the peculiar sounds coming from her apartment. Ironically it was one of these very same neighbors who referred Natalia for her first public appearance, playing for senior citizens at a local Salvation Army center.

“I was still new to the saw and I really didn’t know if I was good enough,” says Natalia. But her performance was a hit, and the Salvation Army center recommended her to another center, which in turn led to more referrals. Soon, Natalia was fielding invitations from all over the city.

Photo by Rod Goodman

Since those early days, Natalia has played the saw with some of the world’s greatest musicians, including the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by maestro Zubin Mehta and the Westchester Philharmonic Orchestra. She has been invited to play at Madison Square Garden, Carnegie Hall, and other New York institutions.

Natalia also works in the studio, recording music for television commercials, singer-songwriters, and movie soundtracks. She appeared as a saw player in the 2002 movie, Dummy, starring Adrien Brody. Garrison Keillor of the Prairie Home Companion radio show has named Natalia the show’s “official saw player.”

But her favorite venue is the cavernous New York City subway system, where she performs regularly. “It’s such an honor to fill the artery of this great city with my sound and provide the soundtrack to people’s lives,” says Natalia. [Visit sawlady.com for specific locations, dates, and times.]

In the subway, Natalia can see her audience and talk to them. Many people recognize her and call out, “Hey, Saw Lady!” when they stop to listen or pass by on their way to the trains. “I love the interaction you get in the subway,” she says. “I meet people that I would never get to meet any other way, from homeless to rich people.”

Natalia says it’s difficult to estimate the number of saw players worldwide—perhaps a few thousand—but more are emerging. When Natalia founded the New York City Musical Saw Festival in 2002, four saw players showed up. In 2009, 53 saw players from all over the world performed together at the annual festival and made the Guinness Book of World Records for being the “Largest Musical Saw Ensemble.”

“Most saw players are isolated from one another. The festival is the only place to meet others who share our enthusiasm for this art form, learn from one another, and be inspired by one another,” she says.

As for spreading the word, Natalia rarely teaches saw playing. Just as the Austrian musician told her to figure it out on her own, she encourages newcomers to start through trial and error. “If you succeeded in figuring it out, then you were meant to be a saw player,” she says.

Natalia not only learned saw playing, but she turned her life from tragedy to triumph. Second acts are possible. Just ask the Saw Lady, next time you’re catching a train in the City.

Visit the Saw Lady online at her official website, and check out this video of The Saw Lady story:

To watch more videos of Natalia, visit Play it Again, Saw Lady!

Hey, Saw Lady! The Saturday Evening Post

For two years Cami, an out-of-work creative director, struggled with the symptoms of MS. It was difficult to walk, work, or take pleasure in the simple comforts of home and family. To dull the pain and fight fatigue and insomnia Cami began popping prescription drugs for pain and anxiety—so many that they had to be tracked with a spreadsheet. She began to slip into a fog of depression and self-pity.

Then something happened that changed her life.

Cami had a very good friend whom she looked up to. During a phone call her mentor told her frankly that she was in a bad place. She said Cami needed to stop dwelling on herself if she was ever going to heal. Her prescription for Cami was to give 29 gifts in 29 days and to write about the experience.

Cami not only rose to her friend’s giving challenge, but she also started a self-help movement that has mobilized tens of thousands of individuals across the globe. Motivated by her own positive experiences, Cami founded 29gifts.org, a Facebook-like website in which people share personal stories of giving and receiving while making new friends. Members join together to raise money for individuals in need as well as to contribute to organizations ranging from the National Multiple Sclerosis Society to Charity Water (a group that provides clean water to villages in Africa).

Cami’s foray into philanthropy began inauspiciously. At first she dismissed her friend’s suggestion as “silly.” “I didn’t understand how giving to others was going to help me,” she says. “Most days, I could not get out of bed and felt I had nothing to offer the world.”

But as her friend explained, making the conscious and daily choice to give things away was all about shifting Cami’s focus away from herself. That would create a void into which, perhaps, something positive might enter.

What kinds of gifts? She asked.

Not to worry, her friend answered. Gifts didn’t have to be material things. A smile, warm handshake, or praise would do. The key was to be mindful about it—which is to say, not to do what sales clerks do when they say blankly, “Have a nice day!” For good things to happen, Cami would have to really mean it.

Cami’s first gift was a supportive phone call to a friend who also was struggling with MS. That might have been the hardest because it meant reopening the hardened scab of her own pain so she could be sensitive to the sufferings of others.

After that she was on a roll. For the next 28 days Cami handed out flowers to people on the street, stuffed quarters into a friend’s parking meter, and shared chocolate cake with her husband. She even (gasp!) gave up control of the TV remote for an entire evening. And as her spiritual advisor suggested, Cami chronicled every gift in her journal.

Good things started to happen to Cami very quickly. She could feel her energy coming back. The symptoms of MS were still there, but she was better able to cope. After just two weeks Cami was less reliant on the cane she’d been using. She was taking fewer pain pills. And brain scans showed that the disease had at least temporarily stopped getting worse.

Then, out of the blue, a philanthropic agency in San Francisco hired her to do some consulting work. She rejoiced in being busy again. “I started to wake up each morning feeling positive and excited, wondering what opportunities to give might come my way instead of wondering where I would hurt or what might go wrong,” says Cami. “That was a huge change.”

As she got more fluent with giving she found that receiving gifts from others became easier. She was able to accept even simple things such as a ride to and from the doctor’s office with gratitude instead of guilt or shame. “I now try to give and receive more consciously,” she says.

Halfway through the 29 days Cami began to post her giving stories online, which is how her website got started. She invited others to join her challenge to give. Within weeks more than 200 friends and acquaintances signed up and agreed to the challenge. Today more than 16,000 people in 43 countries have joined the site. Membership is free, but new members must pledge to give 29 gifts in 29 days and to write, share artwork, or blog about the experience on the site. Cami hopes to inspire 29,000 people to sign up.

Cami turned her story into a book, 29 Gifts: How a Month of Giving Can Change Your Life, which has sold more than 60,000 copies and earned her appearances on The Today Show and other places. Today she’s busy writing her second book, a collection of stories from the website. She travels often, speaking to groups about 29 Gifts and the lessons she’s learned.

Through it all the MS symptoms are there in the background. When they flared up recently, Cami needed to be hospitalized for a brief period. It’s not easy, she says, “but being of service to others brings me a sense of balance and peace in the world, no matter what’s going on in my life.”

To learn more about 29 Gifts, visit 29gifts.org.

The Best Gift Ever The Saturday Evening Post

Photo courtesy of Marina Marchese.

In 1999 Marina Marchese quit her job as creative designer for a small giftware company in New York City and settled into a more rustic routine at her little red cottage in Weston, Connecticut. Tired of commuting into the city and passionate about her new backyard beekeeping hobby, Marina decided to start a business based on her bees and the delicious honey they produced. With only limited savings, the artistic and free-spirited Marina worked odd jobs in catering and dog sitting to help pay the bills while she tended her first few hives.

Marina, then 37, was still a “new-bee,” as novice beekeepers are known. But she wanted to be the queen bee, so she studied every aspect of this industrious insect, from its fascinating social life inside the hive to the many varieties of honey it was capable of producing. She attended meetings at local beekeeper clubs and even traveled to England and Italy where honey tasting is on par with wine tasting.

It’s safe to say that artisanal beekeepers like Marina go to extremes, but the honey they produce is a far cry from the kind that you buy in a plastic-molded teddy bear bottle. Artisanal honey making emphasizes quality and character over quantity and consistency. To produce the finest honey, beekeepers become micromanagers of their honeybees, scouting optimal field locations, knowing when nectar flow begins, and selecting the best ways to extract honey when the season is done.

Beekeeping may seem like a dramatic departure from a career in design, but the passion and creativity Marina brought to her business were nothing new. Growing up, she knew she wanted to create art, but spent her childhood rebelling against parents who didn’t support her artistic nature. “I was this creative kid growing up in a corporate family,” Marina says. “My mother was always pushing me to go to college to study business. Creativity just wasn’t nurtured, and it certainly wasn’t treasured.

“As a kid I always doodled—and I always got in trouble. I doodled in cookbooks, on the walls, in the closet, and behind doors where my parents wouldn’t see it. I remember soaking in the tub as my grandma scrubbed ink off my legs because I doodled all over my body.”

A series of seemingly unconnected events brought Marina to beekeeping. In the late 1990s a neighbor saw her illustrations of bee characters—including a sassy queen bee—and invited Marina to check out his backyard hive of Italian honeybees. Unsure at first, Marina put on the beekeeper’s hat and veil and watched as her neighbor opened the hives. “I was mesmerized,” she says. “The bees were so well-behaved, but I kept thinking they were going to swarm and sting. That day I tasted fresh honey and was smitten.”

Honey sommelier Marina educates others about this culinary delight. Photo Courtesy of Marina Marchese.

She bought her first hive through mail order and tended bees on weekends. During the week she took the train to her job in the city. Some days she would cry because she was so unhappy with her job and the commute. One day Marina pulled a paperback novel, The Beekeeper’s Apprentice, from the borrowing rack at the train station. She took this accidental find as a sign that beekeeping was going to play a much larger role in her life. From that day forward she took greater interest in her hobby, joining bee clubs, reading books, and attending workshops.

Within two years honey from her first hive was ready for harvesting. Rather than give her honey away, as many backyard beekeepers do, Marina designed bottles with beautiful labels and prepared to sell her small first batch of 12 bottles at the local farmer’s market. She encountered some resistance from shoppers who weren’t quite sold on the idea of paying premium prices for something that has traditionally been a commodity.

“I pretty much starved that first winter,” she says. “I told myself, ‘I am talented, and I am going to survive.’ When I get interested in something, I go into it deeply. I had only scratched the surface of this amazing creature and wanted to know more.”

To survive she expanded her product line, selling beeswax lip balm and honey-based skin care products such as handmade soaps, facial scrubs, and foot rubs. And, taking full advantage of the bee’s bounty, Marina started to feed her artistic soul by painting with heated beeswax in a technique known as encaustic painting. About five years ago—and a full seven years after starting her business—Marina reached a financial milestone. She no longer had to work odd jobs to help pay her bills. Today Marina’s company, Red Bee Apiary, harvests approximately 100 gallons of honey per year, and is a favorite of regional chefs and gourmands alike. Demand is greater than supply, so she works with local beekeepers who meet her exacting criteria for artisanal honey to boost production.

Like a convert to a new religion, Marina wants others to share her passion for artisanal honey. She travels around the country talking to beekeeper groups and sponsors tastings at her apiary. She even wrote a book, Honeybee: Lessons from an Accidental Beekeeper, which encompasses not just her personal story but the history of beekeeping, bee behavior, tips for would-be backyard beekeepers, and the many ways honey can be used in food and healthy living. “My business brings together everything I’ve worked for in my life,” says Marina. “When you’re doing something you’re meant to do, everything just falls into place.”

Queen Bee The Saturday Evening Post

Always an overachiever with a head for numbers and a personality for people, Chuck let his career goals guide him for years. But eventually he began to feel the strain. As the banking industry underwent a wave of mergers and acquisitions, Chuck’s work was taking him to city after city throughout the Midwest where he would close and consolidate branches, handing out pink slips to long-time employees and fielding tough questions from nervous customers.

After twenty years in the corporate world, Chuck recognized that he had stopped enjoying his work. Making matters worse, a new crop of MBA-toting graduates were entering the field, solving management problems by crunching numbers rather than by building and nurturing relationships. With two young children, Chuck and Peggy realized that they were missing out on milestones and together time. They yearned to find a place to call their “forever home”—a place where they could become part of a community and watch their kids grow up in a stable environment. “It was time for a change,” he says.

In 2001, Chuck, then 45, called it quits.

Today, he is a middle school math teacher in St. Marys, Georgia, a sleepy little coastal town at the southeastern-most tip of Georgia. The job pays just a little more than $40,000 per year. Chuck is also a city councilman and president of the St. Marys Middle School Parent Teacher Student Organization. The couple that moved 12 times in the first 20 years of marriage has now held on to the same zip code for a decade—and they couldn’t be happier.

And, to cap it all off, Chuck was recently named St. Marys Middle School “Teacher of the Year.”

Chuck Trader and his wife Peggy discovered their “forever home” after taking a six-week road trip in a rented motor home along the East Coast. Photo Courtesy Chuck Trader.

Clearly this was the right move for Chuck and his family, but finding the perfect place to plant the family’s roots took some time. The search for their “forever home” began in early 2000 when Chuck and Peggy took the kids on a six-week road trip in a rented motor home along the East Coast. Using statistics and a personal wish-list as their guide, they stopped in 12 towns that met their exacting criteria: good schools, low crime, proximity to major metropolitan areas, coastal location, low cost of living, friendly feel, and other must-haves. St. Marys satisfied everything on their list. After spending the day in town talking to the mayor and other locals and seeing the sights, they were sold on this small waterfront community of approximately 14,000.

“We said, ‘Is this real?’ We went away for a few days and came back, just to be sure. And it felt good to be back,” Chuck says.

The long trip was the beginning of a new era, one in which family time trumped work time. By 2001, the Traders had settled in St. Marys for good, throwing themselves into community life and rehabbing a pre-Civil War-era home. Chuck initially worked for the city of St. Marys as finance director and interim city manager, and he became deeply involved in his children’s school.

It was while becoming active in his children’s school that Chuck realized he had found his true calling: teaching. After earning a provisional certificate by passing a slew of tests, he was hired as a middle school mathematics instructor. Within a year, he enrolled in online courses at Grand Canyon University to earn his Masters in Secondary Education and professional certification. “It was quite grueling,” recalls Chuck, who worked full time while finishing the two-year program in 14 months. But the payoff was well worth the sacrifice. “There is no other profession where you have the opportunity to favorably affect the outcomes and impact the lives of so many young adults,” says Chuck. “Teaching truly is an opportunity to invest in the future of our society.”

Chuck’s life today bears little resemblance to his former corporate existence. He quickly rattles off an eclectic list of the differences: more family time, reduced expenses, deeper relationships, increased understanding of the challenges faced by lower socioeconomic families, shorter lunches, and longer time on his feet, to name only a few.

In the classroom Chuck is able to make lesson plans real by drawing upon his experience in business. And he captivates students by sharing jaw-dropping stories from his past—such as tales of $100 million deals he helped close. “When you’re working with a kid who is struggling and working very hard, it’s very fulfilling to see the smile and satisfaction when they suddenly ‘get it.’ It’s what makes teaching great,” says Chuck.

The former businessman has “a knack for reaching students others deem unreachable,” says Michael Wooden, St. Marys Middle School principal. “Each time I visited Mr. Trader’s classroom, all of his students were engaged in his lesson. Not only is he an extremely knowledgeable mathematics teacher, he is equally skilled at reaching students at whatever academic level they come to him.”

Chuck’s students scored a 96 percent pass rate on the mathematics portion of the most recent statewide student assessment. “That is a very difficult achievement for any teacher,” notes Wooden. “Not to mention one who has a large group of students who are considered ‘at risk.’”

Chuck and Peggy Trader have much to be thankful for these days as they live their version of the American Dream. Their children, plucked from private school when the family moved to St. Marys, have grown up in a more diverse public school environment and learned to do more with less as their parents scaled back. Yet, they are thriving. Evan, 19, is a sophomore at Georgia Tech, majoring in aeronautical engineering and economics. Hannah, 16, is on her school’s gymnastics team and a member of the National Beta Club, an organization that promotes academic achievement, character, service, and leadership among elementary and secondary school students.

“Moving here was at my insistence,” Peggy says. “It was an effort to focus on the family and not let the corporate job rule our lives anymore. We’ve refocused our priorities on having a more stable family life.”

Chuck Trader today is a walking Chamber of Commerce for St. Marys, extolling its coastal location, beautiful landscape, friendly folks, and strong educational system. He looks back on his corporate past without regret. There is pride in all that he achieved, but he well understands that teaching is what he was truly meant to do. “My days are long and can be challenging, but I feel a deep sense of accomplishment as I see students grow and develop into young adults,” he says. “Each and every day I make a difference in the life of a child. And that has tremendous value beyond the income provided.”

From Financier to Teacher (and Happiness) The Saturday Evening Post

Luckily for Susan, she could fall back on her career as a sales director for Mary Kay Cosmetics. She was great at her job, earning nine of those iconic pink Cadillacs over the course of many years with the company. But instead of just throwing herself into her work or hiding under the covers, Susan listened to her heart. She decided it was time to shake things up by focusing on other peoples’ problems.

So, Susan took a sizeable portion of her own savings (an amount she declines to reveal, conceding only that it was in the low six figures) and founded the Andersen Nontraditional Scholarship for Women’s Education and Retraining (ANSWER Scholarship) to help struggling mothers go back to school and earn their college degrees.

Susan’s endowment fulfilled a promise she had made to herself nearly three decades earlier after receiving scholarship assistance for her own college education. At the time, she vowed to find a way to pay it forward. Divorce brought that dream back into focus. “I was now a single mom, and as I looked around at other single moms, I realized many were not as fortunate and were struggling. Without an education, a mom with children is destined for poverty.”

Since 2005, the ANSWER Scholarship has awarded up to $4,000 per academic year to 17 women through Foundation for the Carolinas, a community foundation that manages Susan’s endowment fund and selects her scholarship recipients. At last count, nine women have graduated. And of those nine grads, five have opted to continue on for advanced degrees on their own.

Women who receive scholarships from Susan’s endowment must meet certain criteria: The degree must be their first, and they must go to school full time at an accredited institution in North or South Carolina. “It sounds really daunting, but we made it a full-time requirement so that women would finish in four years, not spread it out over time and maybe never finish,” says Susan. “This way, the women have an end in sight, and their children can see Mom start and finish something.”

Scholarship recipients also must be at least 25 years old, and—most importantly—they must have at least one school-age child living at home with them. Susan firmly believes that children who watch their mother work hard for a college degree will one day follow in their mom’s very large footsteps to pursue their own college dreams. “When you educate the mother, you help change the destiny of her children,” Susan says.

Marital status is not a deciding factor, although the majority of recipients have been single moms.

Becoming a teacher was an early dream for Katrina Mitchell—one she abandoned for years but is now pursuing at Belmont Abbey College.

With full course loads, homework from demanding professors, and regular exams, college can be stressful for any student. Add in part-time or full-time jobs and the realities of parenthood—helping children with schoolwork, arranging childcare, shopping for groceries, cleaning house, cooking meals, and more—and the diploma may seem like an impossible dream. Katrina Mitchell, 35, knows all about the frustration and fatigue that moms in college suffer. With help from Susan’s ANSWER Scholarship, Katrina is close to receiving her bachelor’s degree in education from Belmont Abbey College in Belmont, North Carolina.

Becoming a teacher was an early dream for Katrina, one she abandoned for a more lucrative but less satisfying career. “I make decent money working for a broker-dealer,” she says. “But I’m not happy. I just go through the motions every day.”

This vague sense of malaise crystallized a few years back when her grandmother passed away. The loss led to some soul-searching, which, in turn, led to thoughts of teaching. “My grandmother wanted to do so many things in her life and never got the opportunity. Her sudden death made me reevaluate my life,” says Katrina.

But going back to school hasn’t been easy for this mother of a boy, 3, and a girl, 11. To make it happen, Katrina used up all of her time off from work. She often arrives at her job early and works through her lunch hour so she can be on time for class, which meets four nights a week. With support from her family—as well as a college professor selected by Susan to be Katrina’s mentor—Katrina hung in there. She left her corporate job in August to begin student teaching, and she’s glad she toughed it out. “When I was young, I didn’t have the drive and motivation to succeed, and I didn’t take school seriously. My mother never talked to me about school,” says Katrina, whose mother was only 14 when she was born. “Now, my daughter is my biggest supporter and so proud of me! She told me, ‘I’m going to work hard and go to school so you can be proud of me the way that I’m proud of you.’”

Tonya Nichole Faulkner became the first person in her family to earn a college degree.

Like Katrina, Tonya Nichole Faulkner, 40, grew up in a home where college wasn’t even on the radar. Tonya wanted to break the cycle of poverty for herself and her two children. The ANSWER Scholarship fund provided the escape route. In 2008, Tonya became the first in her family to earn a college degree when she graduated magna cum laude from Queens University of Charlotte with a BA in Human and Community Services. This spring, she is set to receive an MA in Nonprofit Management from High Point University in North Carolina. Her daughter is a freshman at Queens University, thanks largely to Tonya’s positive influence. “I want my children to believe they can persevere through any obstacles to achieve their dreams,” says Tonya.

Two of Tonya’s brothers also returned to school, inspired by their sister’s drive and motivation. “They figured if a single mom could go to school full time while working two part-time jobs, then they could do it, too,” says Tonya.

Tonya hopes someday to become a philanthropist like Susan. She’s already started her own nonprofit organization, Repairing the Breach Foundation, which aims to provide assistance for people in need by closing the gaps between human service organizations and those they serve.

For her part, Susan is extraordinarily proud of the women her organization has been able to help. But she modestly brushes off praise for her efforts, reminding people that she started the ANSWER Scholarship at least in part to fill a void in her own life. “Divorce was a very sad time for me, which is why I decided to do something positive,” she says. “Helping others helped heal my pain.”

Learning By Degrees The Saturday Evening Post