Answering the Call

“And what have you done with your marveoulous education?”

–Diane Caldbeck

In 2007, I took Mom for a three-day trip to Des Moines, Iowa. She wanted to visit her old neighborhood, see an old friend from the war days, and tour Drake University, Dad’s alma mater. This would be only her second visit in over sixty years.

Our Drake tour guide was Diane Caldbeck, an alum and a senior administrator. As Diane drove us around, she casually asked about my educational background. When I replied that I received my BA from Yale and MBA from Stanford, she immediately followed with, “And what have you done with your marvelous education?”

Caught completely off guard, I struggled for an adequate answer. I described owning my business, serving as president of my co-op board, and coaching Molly’s soccer team. But everything sounded dull and empty; I couldn’t think of one damn thing that could adequately address what I’d done with my “marvelous education,” in my eyes or hers. I hadn’t served on any nonprofit boards, nor was I particularly philanthropic. Diane exposed a real vulnerability and guilt that I carried—that I could and should be doing so much more with the resources and opportunities in my life.  More than four decades after Mom planted the Yale seed, she was with me when Diane planted another seed in the form of a challenge: What have you done with your life? What will you do with the rest of your life?

The following May, one year after that wake-up call in Des Moines, I was on Interstate 80 driving home to Manhattan from my office in New Jersey. Picture me in my black BMW X5 BMW, windows up, AC on, Springsteen blasting on satellite radio. Bruce’s songs—especially the early ones about cars, girls, and beer—have a way of unleashing primal instincts. So, when I stopped for gas, I gave into the trifecta of regret—something sweet, salty, and edgy—and grabbed a can of Pepsi, a bag of pork rinds, and a pack of Marlboros.

Back in the car, the radio had switched to a live concert from the ‘80s. Bruce hollered his favorite war cry: “Nobody wins unless everybody wins.” When I heard that, something snapped.

I sat there and thought about my life and Springsteen’s words. I looked down at the junk I’d purchased—the sugar, the fat, the tobacco—and realized that my external hungers reflected an inner void. I was “successful”: My company—CIS, or Consolidated Information Services—was one of the nation’s largest independent credit reporting agencies. We had offices on both coasts. But I was coasting through life. I was spending more time scoring Springsteen tickets than I was working, let alone giving back and changing lives.

In that moment, I realized what I was really craving: a life of impact.

Within a minute of that epiphany, something else happened—whether you want to call it a coincidence, a signal from the universe, or an angel intervention. I got a call from my COO, Nancy Fedich. She had just received an email from a housing trade association asking if I knew anyone in New York interested in becoming the new leader of the New York Mortgage Coalition.

The New York Mortgage Coalition is a nonprofit housing agency that focuses on affordable homeownership for low-income families in the greater New York area. The incumbent executive director had decided not to return after taking maternity leave. As I drove the rest of the way home, I never opened the pork rinds or the Marlboros (though I did sip the Pepsi). I thought deeply about my life, asking myself, “If not now, when?”  

The next day, I applied for the position. In June 2008, I started my new job.

You never know when your calling might come or where it might originate, but when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. If your antenna is up and you’re open to receiving signals, the message will find you. It found me, and I am forever grateful I listened.