Vital Communities, the non-profit organization working to cultivate the civic, environmental, and economic vitality of the Upper Valley, was recently awarded a $200,000 New England Food Vision Prize for a multi-partner project. The Food Vision Prize aims to build resiliency, relationships, and capacity within New England’s farm-to-institution supply chain.

“This project will create a stable market for local producers, open stable sales channels for BIPOC producers, increase the amount of local ingredients in our institutions, and strengthen our local economy,” Vital Communities director of food & farm and economy, Nancy LaRowe, of Norwich, said.

The project came together when long-time Vital Community Upper Valley Everyone Eats partner, Global Village Foods – an African-inspired prepared food producer based in Quechee –  brought the idea of applying for a Food Vision prize to Vital Communities. Already sourcing from local farms for their UVEE meals, Global Village Foods realized they needed more and different equipment and a partner to help connect with local farms.

With this awarding of the prize, Global Village Foods will now have the means to produce meals at a large scale for institutions, starting with the University of Vermont, with food grown in New Hampshire and Vermont.

“We’re super excited because we have always tried to source our ingredients locally,” said Mel Hall, owner of Global Village Foods along with his wife, Damaris. “As we begin to rebound from the pandemic, this grant enables us to grow from a small regional specialty brand to having national potential, and to carry those local growers with us and offer them a guaranteed revenue stream.”

One of the local growers partnering with Global Village Foods is our own Honey Field Farm run by Eli Hirsch and Valerie Woodhouse, a 35-acre family farm located on Butternut Road in Norwich on the site of the former Killdeer Farm.

Making their start in Spring 2020, Hirsch and Woodhouse came to Norwich from Fairfax, VT looking to grow their small organic farm. They’d been searching for the right spot to take their business to the next level and found their ideal location at Killdeer. “We were excited to move to this community. It seemed like a community that was already really supportive of local agriculture,” Woodhouse said. The Norwich community has lived up to its reputation. “[The community] has been 5000% supportive,” she added. “[They’ve] really rallied to help us get on our feet and show up at the farm.”

It was at a Norwich Farmers Market that Valerie and Eli met Mel. Mel was sharing the Global Village Foods project with vendors, and Honey Field Farm’s wholesale veggie operation fit exactly into what Global Village Foods was looking for. This past September the two food-providers started working together.

“We’re definitely excited to work with them. We love working with food processors and local makers,” Hirsch said.

One of the reasons Hirsch and Woodhouse love working with food processors is the predictability of the market. “Every week since we began working with Global Village Foods, they’ve been buying 50 pounds of spinach. It’s something we know is going to happen and we can plan for it in advance. It is a huge relief to have stability and consistency. We can go into next year knowing the crop we plant has a home.,” Woodhouse said.

Honey Field Farms has been supplying Global Village Foods with scallions and spinach this fall and intends to plan more crops for the upcoming season with Mel and Damaris over the winter.

Beyond the stability provided by their partnership with Global Village Foods, Hirsch and Woodhouse appreciate the ability to widen their farm’s market. “We really like any opportunity we have to put more Vermont food into the regional foods system beyond our local relationships.” In addition to supplying our local coops and markets, Hirsch said. “We really appreciate when we’re able to send our food to other communities, other states, and other parts of the food system.”

Honey Field Farm’s food will be doing just that as it travels north with Global Village Food meals to the University of Vermont dining halls as part of Vital Communities Food Vision prize project.

When you search for a family that has its roots deeply embedded in the soil and community of Norwich, it’s hard to find a better example than Fred, Paul, and Abbie Metcalf. Without fanfare, the three siblings supported the village of Norwich in a medley of ways for most of the 20th century.

The Metcalfs grew up on a farm on Dutton Hill Road, named after their maternal great-grandfather Daniel B. Dutton, who purchased the land in 1834. The farm was also worked by their grandfather, John Dutton, and their father, Otis Metcalf.  Otis came from South Royalton to work for John Dutton in 1886 and married the farmer’s daughter, Hattie, three years later. After they married, the couple moved to the Jericho district of Hartford, where Paul and Fred were born, but they returned to work the Dutton farm in 1901 after the death of John Dutton.

Fred was born on January 4, 1890, and was ten years old when his family moved to Dutton Hill. From a young age, he enjoyed the beauty of his home. He was the first in the family to spot a rainbow and talked of the eastern hills as “my hills.”  “One night when I was seven,” Abbie recalled, “Fred saw Haley’s Comet in the sky. He woke me and took me out to see it.”

Along with his fondness for nature, Fred had an early interest in music. His mother had a reed organ when he was a boy, and Fred used to stand on one foot to reach the keyboard and pump with the other foot. As a youngster, he vowed to the Congregational church organist in Norwich, “When I grow up, I’m going to play that organ.” As Fred grew older he learned to play the organ at his grammar school and had a few formal lessons.

The only person opposed to Fred’s musical pursuits was his father, who once cracked, “Fred might amount to something if he’d let the damned music alone.”

Paul and Fred attended Norwich grammar school and began high school in Hanover. Fred would have liked to pursue additional musical training but when their father couldn’t find hired hands to help with the farm work, he took them out of school.

When Fred left school he didn’t abandon his education. According to Abbie, “He had his nose in a book all the time… and did all the farm work, roofing, and carpentry and helped mother.”

“Fred was a fellow who really didn’t like the farm,” wrote longtime neighbor Fred Johnson in a remembrance of Fred. “(He) did his job and filled his place. At the same time, he had this artistic side of him that he was trying to develop and keep alive.”

According to Abbie, “He always said that the only use he had for a horse was to hitch him up and go to church or a concert over to Hanover. He didn’t care especially for horses but he knew how to handle them as much as anybody needed to.”

After their father died, Fred and Paul split the chores on the family’s 150-acre farm. Fred cared for the cows, worked in the field, and did house chores. Paul tended the horses, managed the machinery, and gardened. Fred did most of the cooking and “gained a reputation for his biscuits.” For over twenty years he baked a loaf of bread that was used in the communion services at the Congregational church.

In addition to his work on the farm, in 1915, Fred started to play the organ at Saint Barnabas Church, where he played until 1950.  In 1920, Fred became the organist for the Congregational church, a position he held for 48 years. The dollar Fred received for each service he used to pay for harmony lessons at Dartmouth with the chairman of the music department, Dr. Phillip Clapp.

Sundays were active times for Fred. The Episcopal service was at 9:30 a.m. and the Congregational service began at 11:00. When he finished with his first job, he’d fly across the common and arrive just before 11:00, toss his overcoat onto the front pew, and start the music going once more. In addition to the organ he also played the flute and the piccolo with the Norwich Band and sang with the Handel Society at Dartmouth for 40 years.

Along with playing music, Fred enjoyed writing, which most of the time meant writing sermons and composing music for the church. His best-known piece is the Christmas carol, “O Holy Child of Bethlehem,” which is still sung at the Norwich Congregational Church during the Christmas season.

When he stepped down as organist in 1968 he savored his time on Dutton Hill. “My music and my house and my work outdoors are all the things I have time for,” said Fred. “If I play the organ now, I do all that’s in me.” Fred died on December 6, 1980, just a month shy of his 91st birthday.

Paul was born on July 28, 1893, and established himself as the farmer in the family. He enjoyed the work, especially gardening and driving the horses. “When father took hold of the lines, the horses knew somebody was in charge who knew just what to do,” Abbie said. “Paul always wanted to be as good a teamster as his father. And he was, almost.”

But while he worked on the farm he didn’t neglect his civic duties. During World War I Paul was a member of the Vermont National Guard and during World War II he was a member of the Aircraft Warning Service, which set up lookout towers around Norwich. He was a long time member of the Root District Riding Club and often rode a horse in the Norwich Fair parade. But cutting firewood, chopping ice, haying, and running a dairy farm kept him busy every day.

“While words rarely escaped his drooping mustache,” Paul left a clear sketch of himself in the diaries he kept during the 1930s. The diaries were matter of fact, with no soulful introspection. Yet they revealed a man who was precise, thrifty, hard working, devoted to his family, and loyal to his community. They captured the rhythm of the seasons and are true historical treasures. Each entry began with a weather update and then succinctly hit the highlights of the day.

Saturday, February 17, 1934: Fair Sawed wood awhile. Began hauling ice. Ernest Fitzgerald’s truck is hauling it from Armstrong’s over to the foot of the hill. I hauled 3 loads, 21 cakes up the hill with Spike and Gyp and the mules. It is 21’ thick.

Tuesday, December 25, 1934: Cloudy snowed an inch or two. Had a Christmas tree this afternoon. Aunt Abbie came up. Mrs. Barrett and Mrs. Jewell came up this evening. Abbie gave me some slippers and Fred gave me 5 dollars.

Friday, October 15, 1937: Cloudy. Moved some hay in the horse barn… Put up the haying tools again. Pulled the beets & put them down cellar. Picked the Hubardstone apples. 1 bu. Apples, 2 bu. beets.

Thursday, June 27, 1938: Rain. Had the last of my upper teeth out. 5 of them. $5. Hoed a row & a half of corn. Had peas for supper.

Tuesday, October 4, 1938: Fair. Fixed fence above the corn. Chased Mary’s cattle out twice. Patched the horse barn roof some. Went to a chicken pie supper at Grange Hall and choir meeting.

Tuesday, March 7, 1939: older, windy, squalls. Went to town meeting in the new Town Hall.

After a busy life on the farm, Paul died on October 11, 1966, at the age of 73.

While Abbie sang the praises of her brothers whenever she could, she too led a vibrant life. On July 21, 1903, one week before Paul’s 10th birthday, she was born in the house on Dutton Hill, where her mother was born 40 years earlier. She was named after her father’s sister, a trained nurse, who made sure that “Little Abbie grew up strong and healthy, after recovering from a rattle in her lungs the summer she was ten. But plenty of fresh air, day and night… As well as a pet collie with whom to explore the farm helped in the recovery of her health.”

Abbie attended the Norwich public school and Hanover High School and then veered away from her rural upbringing and attended Wheaton College in Norton, Massachusetts, where she graduated in 1927. During her college summers she waited tables at a hotel and often came home to work on the farm. “Father needed me to drive (four horses) for haying and paid me $100.” In 1930 she attended the Columbia School of Library Science and finished in 1931, “the year before it was decided to issue a Master’s Degree.” She was a librarian at the North Adams Public Library in Massachusetts for the next ten years. 

In 1941 Abbie returned to Norwich. Her parents and her aunt had all died and “Fred and Paul were glad to have me home!” But it became clear quickly that there was not enough to keep Abbie busy on the farm. After a short stint at the Howe Library, she went to work as a librarian at Dartmouth’s Thayer School for the next 26 years. When she retired from Thayer she became the librarian at the Norwich Public Library for nine years, while being the curator of the Norwich Historical Society. With her “extra” time she was a clerk at the congregational church. As for the farm, although for 50 years the Metcalfs sold milk to H. P. Hood in Boston, when she retired they only pastured cows on their land. “We’ve kept the stables cleaned out in minus 40 degree weather as much as we wanted,” Abbie said.  Abbie died on July 23, 1990, at the age of 87.

A short time before Abbie’s passing, 300 items from the Dutton house and barn were auctioned off. A 200-year-old high chest of drawers – a highboy, made from yellow birch and white pine, woods native to the area and held together with wooden pins rather than nails – was put up for bid. The highboy, judged by the auctioneer to be in almost perfect condition with no broken legs or signs of repair, was sold to the Shelburne Museum for $22,500, about $50,000 today.  It’s easy to see the extended devotion Fred, Paul, and Abbie had for the Norwich community. But the highboy was an obvious clue as to how the siblings cherished the Metcalf ancestry and their family home on Dutton Hill.

Upon entering Tammy Heesakker and Greg Russo’s circa-1961 mid-century modern Norwich home, it’s no surprise that it won a national Design Award of Excellence in November last year.

The Walter and Sylvia Stockmayer House, poised discreetly and elegantly atop a hill on Overlook Drive in Norwich, is an example of a “Usonian” style home, a design term coined by renowned architect Frank Lloyd Wright to describe what was originally intended to be simple and organic design that warranted an affordable price point for families. The same mid-century modern homes that are widely sought-after today were at one time – in the not so distant past – built by the dozen to address the post-war need for affordable housing. 

Now, in 2022, this delicately renovated residence pays beautiful homage to mid-century era design and architecture, enough so that it caught the attention of State Architectural Historian Devin Colman, who nominated the Stockmayer House for a Docomomo US ‘Modernism in America’ award several months ago.

Colman, who calls the home “very forward thinking for its time,” says Heesakker and Russo’s efforts to restore the home to its original architectural glory “really stood out to (him) as being exceptional.”

The Stockmayer House, which is also listed on the National Register of Historic Places, is one of only twelve projects receiving a Modernism in America Award in 2022. According to Docomomo US, (a nonprofit organization whose name stands for “Documentation and Conservation of buildings, sites, and neighborhoods of the Modern Movement”), this particular award recognizes preservation work ranging from “the transformation of large-scale projects into beacons of sustainability” to “modest home revitalizations.”

Designed by Allan J. Gelbin – an apprentice of  Frank Lloyd Wright – the home was commissioned by Walter Stockmayer (a former professor of chemistry at Dartmouth College) and his wife, Sylvia. Since then, the home has been rented and then sat on the market for a summer before Heesakker and Russo purchased it in a near tear-down state in 2015.

With a caving-in roof and other structural issues posing challenges by the mid-2010s, the only hope for the Stockmayer House was “very sensitive, thoughtful interventions” by its new owners, Colman says. “It’s a great example of taking an existing building that needs a little love and bringing it back to life.”

“The house was in bad shape,” Heesakker remembers, though “the bones were good.”

“You could tell right off the bat that the house needed a roof,” Russo adds. “That was for starters. Once you took the roof off, there were lots of surprises under (it).”

Despite being first-time homebuyers and unfamiliar with the surrounding community, Heesakker and Russo made the confident, yet daunting decision to become the next generation of owners for the Stockmayer House just over seven years ago.

Besides being one of the few local properties on the market at the time, the pair chose the Norwich home because they appreciated its style and saw its potential, even in its rough state.

“For better or for worse, we thought, ‘well, if we could fix it up we’d be happy here’,” Russo says, whose appreciation for mid-century modern architecture and design first emerged during his childhood.

A poster of Fallingwater – a famous architectural feat of Frank Lloyd Wright located in Pennsylvania – started it all.

“I just became interested in him… his philosophy and the style,” Russo says.

“When we walked in (to the Stockmayer House), I recognized the style right away,” Russo says. “I knew there was some sort of connection to Frank Lloyd Wright; I didn’t know anything more than that.”

The Stockmayer House features Usonian design concepts like one-story living, no basement or attic, an open carport, concrete slab flooring, natural wood materials, built-in furniture, and simple and sleek rooflines. The tucked-away front door, tight and cozy entryway and dimly lit narrow hallways give way to an open and bright living room, with high ceilings, skylights and large windows, and plenty of space to move around.

According to Heesakker, what stands out most about Gelbin’s design is the thoughtful “form follows function” architectural approach. Gelbin and other architects of the time held equally high standards for aesthetics and purpose, leaving clients with a finished product both beautiful and functional to call home. Elements like built-in bedroom closet storage and a pass-through connecting the kitchen to the dining area and living room eliminate the need for extra clutter and unnecessary space. Upon moving into the Stockmayer House from Boston, “we had a lot of furniture that we either didn’t have a place for or didn’t need,” Heesakker says.

While performing research for the renovations, Heesakker and Russo stumbled upon Gelbin’s design papers for the Stockmayer House, which had been donated to the Art Institute of Chicago after the architect’s death in 1994. The pair took a trip to see the records in person, where they scoured them for information to help guide their project.

“Some of the stuff that we found in the archives were sort of like the specs: the processes they used to make the floors for instance,” Russo says, explaining that the method which Gelbin employed to create the classic Usonian red slab flooring is not the same as what most contractors would follow today.

Honoring the original design of the home has proved tricky, but not impossible. According to Heesakker, finding knowledgeable and willing tradespeople quickly emerged as one of the most difficult challenges.

“It’s just not what they’re used to doing,” she says.

For such a simple theoretical design, their modernist home doesn’t meld all too well with the efficiency of contemporary construction techniques. For example, in many cases, it would be much less of a hassle to simply replace elements of the home with up-to-date materials, rather than restoring them or remodeling them to preserve their authentic history.

Materials for remodeling and routine maintenance are hard to track down. Many are discontinued or not readily available to consumers since the ’60s.

Though Heesakker and Russo’s top priority throughout the renovations has been to create a comfortable and beautiful living space while also honoring the original design of the space as Gelbin intended it.

“We needed to live here and we wanted it to look nice,” Russo says. “I don’t think I ever thought that we would live in a house that would garner attention.”

Major components of the four-year renovation project included installing a new roof, remodeling the carport, a new septic system, exterior painting, and other updates to old and failing features throughout the home.

A few more intricate projects involved specially-crafted replicas of custom original light fixtures and fragile lamp shades, along with the red Micarta kitchen countertops – a building material that’s harder to come by these days, and not cheap. 

“It was obvious that there were going to be multiple projects; however, I don’t think it was obvious how many there were,” Russo says. “There’s always more to do.”

In the near future, the pair plan to fortify the single-pane windows to improve insulation in the home, and tackle other projects such as a bathroom remodel, solar panel installation, and outdoor landscaping.

The Stockmayer House also bridges the balance between work life and home life, with a short commute to Dartmouth Health where Russo works as a radiation oncologist, and a welcoming atmosphere to relax in after a long day.

When friends and family come to visit, “they come for relaxation,” Russo says, finding it easy to take a restful break in a home whose architecture already exudes that kind of atmosphere. A recent visitor took note of the soundproofing that the solid floors and walls provide. “You can’t hear people walking around,” Heesakker said. “It’s very peaceful for that reason.”

The Norwich Historical Society’s online exhibit, Mad for Mid Century Modern, documents several modern Norwich homes – including the Stockmayer House – as well as the history of modernist architecture throughout the community.

Gelbin even designed and built a house for himself on Norwich’s Hopson Road in 1973 – known as the “Allan Gelbin House” – where he lived until ’77.

Recently, the Norwich Historic Preservation Commission has nominated several homes for National Historic Register status, and has designated fifteen modern homes in the Hopson Road neighborhood as a ‘National Historic District’. Preserving the history of these homes not only serves to appreciate their unique and beautiful design; it also brings people together and provides an opportunity to learn about a rich history right under our noses.

The Stockmayer House’s application for the Docomomo US award was “a chance to showcase on a national level a really great modernist house in Vermont,” Colman says, noting that in other places around the United States, it’s a common misconception that Vermont is all “old” and harbors no modern architecture. “Our benchmark is 50 years or older as a starting point to evaluate a historic property,” Colman reminds. “That comes as a real shock to some people.”

“It’s nice to be recognized for taking care of something,” Heesakker says.

“It’s interesting learning how to live in a house like this,” she adds. “It’s kind of like living in a museum… living in art,” says Russo. “It’s also just home.”

Sometimes people go after their chosen careers and, as Erin Tunnicliffe, senior vice president for institutional advancement at Berklee College of Music and Norwich resident of 20 years, knows, “sometimes career choices come to you.”

In Tunnicliffe’s case, the career that found her is fundraising for Berklee College of Music, where she works with her colleagues to identify philanthropic opportunities for the school, build compelling cases for support, and help the team of fundraisers connect to the donor community. Tunnicliffe helps the school raise funds that enable direct support for students such as the Thrive retention scholarship that sustains student support throughout schooling or the K-12 community program “We Have City Music” in Boston.

While Tunnicliffe never dreamed of ending up in philanthropy, she can see what may have lead her to success in this field. “I always wrote my thank you notes,” Tunnicliffe recalls with a laugh, “If I go back in time and think about what prepared me as a kid, my mom instilled in me that after any gift you say thank you.” Tunnicliffe’s parents were both public school educators and although she was raised in a family of relatively modest means, she says, her parents were extremely generous with what they did have and that had an impact on her.

The path that brought her to development has been a circuitous one. Tunnicliffe worked as a strategy consultant in marketing after graduating from the University of Pennsylvania and obtaining her MBA from the Tuck School of Business. While she found the people with whom she worked compelling, the day-in-day-out of what she was doing wasn’t a phenomenal fit.

Working out of Boston at the time, Tunnicliffe often visited the Upper Valley, interviewing students at Dartmouth for her firm. “I found myself wanting to come back to the Upper Valley; something took when I was here,” she recalls. So when she was offered a position in the career office at Tuck, she took the job. Tunnicliffe remembers her hesitation considering how much she’d invested her education into a consulting career but was compelled by the thought of helping students find their path.

Tunnicliffe felt ready for a change again several years later when the Dean asked her to assist with a capital campaign. She had never considered fundraising, but the Dean had confidence in her based on her knowledge of Tuck and the relationships she had built running the career office. “I trusted him and took the leap. Oftentimes career choices kind of come to you, and there is this sense of, ‘What is the downside? If I try this, what might I learn?”

“Sometimes these opportunities are put in front of you. Sometimes people are really planful and they have their sights set on something and other people, when something comes up, they know when to act.” 

This mindset came into play again after Tunnicliffe concluded her career with Tuck and was running her own advisory business. She was receiving a lot of attention from search firms, and one particularly thoughtful scout caught her interest. He had a gig for Tunnicliffe with Berklee, which needed an interim to fill a vacancy while a new role was crafted. Not only did Tunnicliffe say yes to taking on the interim position, Berklee ultimately offered her the role: “I had learned enough about Berklee and the role to say yes.”

“Berklee itself is just wildly compelling,” Tunnicliffe says, “It’s just such a special place.” Tunnicliffe first knew the school by reputation. CODA, a film deeply connected to Berklee both in plot and behind the scenes with music and production contributions from students and alumni, had recently won best picture; Tunnicliffe felt particularly connected to the film as her father was a hearing child of deaf adults. She soon learned there was even more to appreciate about Berklee beyond this. “My screen for working for another institution was that it had to be excellent at whatever it did, and Berklee certainly is.” She adds, “It also needed to have a commitment to inclusiveness and access.” Berklee, she felt, provided that access as an institution serving a broad population where students are accepted on their ability: “It is young people who have raw talent.”

At Berklee, Tunnicliffe is again able to help young people find and follow their pathways, “Berklee allows young people who have a passion to connect it to their education and to a career aspiration, from tech to production to performance. It enables young people to see a path and get some guidance.”

Tunnicliffe’s passion for Berklee is intertwined with her love for music. While not much of a musician herself – “I say I have a perfect voice for singing alone in a car,” she jokes – she has a deep appreciation of music that stems from having musicians in the family, such as a stepmother who was an elementary school music teacher.  Tunnicliffe grew up taking lessons in piano and flute – “the required childhood stuff,” she laughs, but now takes on the role of the superfan.

Being immersed in this musical environment very much has its perks. In Tunnicliffe’s first week in the role as SVP, Berklee gave Ringo Starr an honorary degree. Tunnicliffe was just a few strides away from Starr as he spoke and hopped on the drum set to give an impromptu performance of his music.

Even cooler than that, Tunnicliffe says, was the event at a little house party in Los Angeles where Berklee gave an honorary degree to Joni Mitchell, one of Tunnicliffe’s personal heroes. The event highlighted Berklee’s Institute for Jazz and Gender Justice; students and alumni performed jazz renditions of Joni’s music. “Joni was just so appreciative,” Tunnicliffe recalls, “She said, well I wish my parents could see this,’ and it was really sweet. People show such reverence so that was really special.”

This was early in Tunnicliffe’s tenure so she gives all accolades to her team. The one contribution for which she takes credit is the personalized beret – a signature accessory of Joni’s – gifted to the songwriter. Rolling Stone picked up the beret story and Tunnicliffe jokes that “she was basically in Rolling Stone.”

Beyond the encounters with iconoclast musicians, Tunnicliffe finds one of the best parts of the job the amazing talent of the students whom she supports. She calls out a student group, The Wildmans, who perform American roots music on banjo, fiddle, and guitar. The group recently won the bluegrass “FreshGrass” festival at MASS MoCA. They also performed at a recent board meeting. “This is like no other board meeting,” Tunnicliffe recalls thinking.

“It’s almost silly how many moments I get just in the course of work,” Tunnicliffe says, “We don’t gather without music.”

The Wildmans, she notes, are scholarship recipients, and make her incredibly proud of the work she does. “This is the difference between their being here and not.”

One stipulation of taking on the role at Berklee was that Tunnicliffe was not going to move away from the Upper Valley full-time; she spends a few days down in Boston most weeks. “It lets me be me,” she says of Norwich, “This is my home, and it makes me who I am.” An active runner, hiker, and yoga practitioner, Tunnicliffe and her husband embrace all our area has to offer. “It’s a place that is so innately home to me.”

People often suppose that anyone in fundraising has to be an extrovert, Tunnicliffe muses, but as an introvert, she loves the quiet that Norwich provides so she can come home and be with her family. “It restores me and lets me be able to be out in the world. And,” she adds, “it makes be really efficient when I’m in Boston so I can get everything done and get home!”

Tunnicliffe sees her work as a privilege to help connect people with opportunities for giving that can make a real difference. “It’s not sales, it’s generosity,” Tunnicliffe says, “If I can help people activate that state of being generous and doing something that they care about deeply, well that’s terrific.”

Tunnicliffe has an enormous amount of reverence for the act of philanthropy: “We can all think about a time that we’ve been helpful to someone, and that’s a really beautiful thing. That was the real hook for me.”