June 13th, 2026

I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy this week. Today is Doug’s 32nd birthday. Doug was my best friend growing up who passed away tragically when we were 15 years old. Additionally, last weekend, my Bubbie passed away at the age of 92. She lived a wonderful life though her battle with dementia over the last few years was challenging. Two very different lives and trajectories, both with indescribable influence on me, now and forever onward. I will try to do both justice.

Doug was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. From the first moment I remember meeting him before a school day in kindergarten, we were best friends. Our families grew very close as well, which only created more opportunities for our friendship to become closer, having traveled a lot together to different parts of the country and different parts of the world. We lived one development away from each other, a two minute drive, and went to the same schools all growing up, so we got to spend a lot of time together. We would often play sports, whether that was on an organized team or making up basketball plays in one of our driveways. And more than anything, I just remember that Doug could make me laugh more than anyone else.

The most time we spent apart was during the summers, when we went to different summer camps starting after third grade. The summer after our freshman year of high school, he went on a teen tour and I continued at my summer camp. It was the first summer I was allowed to have my cell phone (every other night for about an hour), so we got to talk sometimes as he traveled the noncontinental US. But that doesn’t make up for actually being together.

Doug’s family had a small plane that they used occasionally for personal travel, as well as in support of a nonprofit to transport children and families with medical needs to hospitals that could provide the best care. Doug was visiting friends in New York City and his dad and uncle picked him up on a sunny day in the plane to go back home to the suburbs of Philadelphia. As they were taking off, their plane collided with a helicopter above the Hudson River. Everyone involved in the accident passed away. 

This sudden loss was devastating, not just to me but the entire community. Thousands of people showed up to the funeral. Snapshots of that day will forever be etched in my memory, as I tried to say goodbye while also trying to hold onto him, and being in too much shock to really have closure. He was so young and so was I. It was incomprehensible what had happened, and I struggled to figure out how to move forward in a healthy and productive way. 

After a lot of isolation and dissociated time watching tv in my parent’s basement through much of my sophomore year, in addition to doing my schoolwork and going to therapy, by the time that baseball season rolled around I started to find that to be a good escape. It gave me something to look forward to at least. My mood improved to some degree, I was more physically active, and felt better. After my last summer as a camper, my junior year was when things really started to turn around when a coach I had grown up with invited me to workout with the wrestling team in the morning now that I could drive. I had recurring nightmares about being in the plane with them and not being able to stop the crash from happening, routinely waking up after little sleep, so this opportunity gave me something to do that was productive while I was awake anyway. 

I won’t go through all of the details, but share this because I found a story in my mind, having promised Doug at his funeral that I would always keep him with me, that working hard and excelling in baseball was a way that I could honor him. So that’s what I did. Beyond just being an outlet, baseball and training provided a pathway for me to not make purpose of the accident, I still haven’t been able to do that, but to not try to escape what had happened. Every morning I was in the gym before school, every round of batting practice or bullpen I threw, and certainly during the games, I could feel Doug’s presence, and I wanted to be great for/with him.

In college, I let this motivation lapse. An injury and another trauma compounded into bad habits and by the time I realized the downward spiral I was in, any chance I had to play baseball for a living, which may have never existed in the first place but my actions ensured that any chance I ever had was no more. I hadn’t only let myself down, but I let Doug down, and that was much harder to deal with. I was down on myself for a long time and felt very lost. 

One of my lasting memories of Doug that helped me navigate this was from the last trip our families took together to Cabo (obviously, at the time, we didn’t know it would be our last trip together). Our families always played beach football together, and one day after that we sat in an infinity pool together as the sun set and just talked for a long time. While many things were discussed, one point of conversation was our hope to make the world a better place for others. While we were young we were maturing, and we recognized how lucky we were to have the lives we did, and that most people were not so lucky. 

I think the memory of this conversation had an impact on my going into nonprofit work. My volunteerism in college leading to my career thus far working for nonprofit organizations has taken the place of baseball in carrying Doug forward with me as best I can. I still believe that we are doing this work together. There are times when I am not sure what to do with work, and a thought comes to mind that helps move things forward, and I believe it was Doug’s insight. I know how that must read to others, I honestly hesitate to write it but will leave it because it’s the truth, but regardless of where the thoughts come from it is the motivation that is important here. 

I have not done nearly as much for the world as would honor the legacy Doug left. I will continue working to build more capacity for not just The Change Campaign, but also the organizations and efforts that we support to promote holistic wellbeing and sustainable systems. I don’t know that I will ever be able to do anything that feels like it’s enough to fully honor Doug, his death will always be an incomprehensible loss that I cannot fill, but the pursuit of trying is meaningful. The effort to strive toward something better is meaningful, and if that is the motivation to achieve great things that may come about as my career continues, then that is even better. 

In an imperfect transition where I will attempt to tie things back together before finishing this piece, the person who was always perhaps most certain that I was destined for greatness was my Bubbie. She was a remarkable woman. She loved nothing more than her family. We would come together at Bubbie and Poppy’s house regularly to swim, play tennis, eat, do artwork, and spend quality time. It was around their table that I was exposed to policy debates from a young age. Bub was opinionated and I am sure wrong plenty of the time, but she knew an awful lot.

Having graduated from Penn for both her undergraduate and one of her graduate degrees, she was always exceptionally bright and creative. She loved art, her favorite medium, at least by the time I was alive, was pastels, and she created some truly beautiful pieces. She made sure that her family had good grammar - though I am sure I will disappoint her plenty with my “close, but not quite right” grammatical correctness - and supported us all in our pursuits. 

As I am sure is true for each of my cousins, she believed I could be anything I set my mind to. There was no bigger champion for me to go to Penn than Bub. Though by the time I applied and got in her dementia had started to advance more rapidly, she was still so thrilled for me. The last time I saw her was a few weeks before she died, right before my graduation ceremony I went to see her in my graduation cap so I could celebrate with her. Despite her verbal capacities being impacted toward the end of her fight with the disease, she gave me the greatest graduation gift of telling me at pretty decent length how proud she was of me. As I always did when I was with her toward the end, I told her I was going to do great things and she was a big part of that.

Both Doug and my Bub, though very differently, have made me strive for excellence, not just for myself, but to try and positively impact the world around me, as well as try to make a similar impact on the lives of others. Two quotes come to mind as I begin wrapping this up: “So long as they speak your name, you shall never die.” and “To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived, this is to have succeeded.” I will continue to speak their names, and others who have had and continue to have a real impact on me, because they are a part of the work I do. I hope I make them and others proud with not just what I accomplish, but the ways I go about the work itself. And regardless of what I accomplish, at least in the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, they both succeeded, because my life is better because they were a part of it. 

Their memories, their legacies, will continue to be a part of my life, and I know the lives of so many others. In an age where it feels like so many people live for immediate gratification, and systems are oriented towards short-term payouts at the expense of long-term strategy, I am reminded this week about what is truly important. We should focus more on the world we are creating for current and future generations than net worths. We should love more to nurture people to believe in themselves rather than criticize them without providing support. We should enjoy the moments we have together, for love is the richest part of this beautiful life.