Re-Shingled

Astute regular readers here may have noticed that two tabs were recently restored to my front page after a several-year absence: Freelance Writing and Consulting. Why so? Why now?

For most of my years living and working in/around Albany (1993-2011), those were key parts of my professional portfolio, and in many cases were among the most gratifying and enjoyable jobs I did. But when I took over a struggling museum in early 2012 after our move to Iowa, that job had such a crushing 24-hour “on call” aspect that I just didn’t have it in me to maintain existing freelance clients or establish new ones. Then my job at TREE Fund had me on the road around the country about half of the time, plus the complicating factor that Marcia and I were splitting time between Des Moines and Chicago for three years, so that era also didn’t lend itself to doing the types of writing and value-added consulting work that I so enjoy.

But that’s going to change in the months ahead with my pending retirement as President and CEO of TREE Fund. We’ll be announcing my replacement there in a couple of weeks, and my last day of employment with TREE Fund will be November 15. I have one more trip planned from Des Moines to our offices in Naperville for turnover, then Marcia and I will be hitting the road on our own for awhile, within the States and abroad. We have some of those trips laid out already, but are really keeping the schedule fairly soft at this point for much of 2020, enjoying the opportunity to go where we want to go, when we want to do so. I am also looking into some writers’ workshops, fellowships, and conferences in the months ahead to reconnect in that professional circle and have the opportunity to hone and market some of my personal projects that have been back-burnered in recent years.

So those factors all lead me to conclude that it’s a good time to re-hang my professional shingle, with the simple act of adding those tabs as a first-step statement of intent. As averse as I am to getting new technology before my old technology has expired (I have had only four home PCs for all of my computing needs since 1993), Marcia and I both got fresh new laptops to take with us, to allow us to work (or play, or surf aimlessly) wherever we are.  (I’m still keeping my trusty home PC up and running, though. Loyalty to beloved and useful devices counts for karma points, you know). While our modern technological era is certainly fraught with challenges, perils, and annoyances, I think there is great joy to be found in being nimble, agile and portable, and doing what needs to be done where it needs to be done, untethered from the ties of home and office. Have computer, will write!

The two pages linked above lay out the areas of past expertise and future interest that I would like to pursue in the months and years ahead. Check ’em out. Am I missing anything? Are they compelling? Comments, critiques, complements or questions always welcome. I very much look forward to helping colleagues new and old, and I am open to conversations at any time if you think there’s something I do that might be of interest and help to you, your business, your board, your donors, or your clients. I’m also grateful for any referrals that you might direct my way. Networks count, and I know I’ve developed some good ones over the years.

At bottom line, if you’ve enjoyed working with me in the past, then there’s no reason for that to stop, at least from my end. We might even enjoy and leverage our professional relationships more fully in a new paradigm, unlocked from some of the structural constraints of the nonprofit world in which I’ve moved for most of the past 25 years. Only way one to find out, right?

Sticker purchased to decorate my new laptop. Words to live by. Bonus points if you know their source.

Island Song

Note: Here is my “Leading Thoughts” column from the October 2019 edition of TREE Press, the monthly gazette of TREE Fund. You can read the latest and back editions, and subscribe to future installments, by clicking here. You should be listening to this song from the greatest animated series ever as you read this article.

So here it is, my final “Leading Thoughts” column for TREE Press, three weeks before I retire as the organization’s President and CEO. As I type, we are in the final steps of the search process to find my successor, and barring something unexpected, next month’s TREE Press should feature an introduction of the new leader for our enterprise. We have outstanding candidates in the mix, and I am confident that the next President and CEO will be able to build on the successes we have experienced over the past four years. I look forward to cheering him or her on, and to continue supporting TREE Fund as a donor, Tour des Trees rider, and advocate.

I will be pleased and proud to continue my personal and professional associations with the amazing community of arborists, urban foresters, landscape architects and other green industry experts who I’ve come to know and respect during my time at TREE Fund. I’ve noted in earlier TREE Press columns that, after some travel, I intend to return to the freelance writing and consulting work that occupied much of my time and talent when I lived in Upstate New York for the better part of 20 years. If you see an opportunity where I may be able to help you, your business, your ISA Chapter, or your clients, I’d be happy to discuss that further. You can always reach me at my website for professional inquiries, to read whatever I might be writing for my own entertainment, or just to say “howdy.” The connections and friendships I’ve made over the past four years are precious to me, and I am happy to continue them!

In my final remarks at this year’s ISA International Conference in Knoxville, I noted that when I reflect on my time at TREE Fund, the thing that I am most proud of is that I believe I have shifted our organizational focus and messaging away from “What should you do for TREE Fund?” toward “What can TREE Fund do for you?” Your continued support is, of course, crucial, but we only earn it by providing you with useful scientific research and education, and by sharing those mission-based products as widely as we possibly can. I believe we have achieved that with our improved website, newsletter and social media efforts, our wildly popular and successful webinar series, and a shift in emphasis for the Tour des Trees to make the focus on community engagement just as strong as the focus on fundraising. We are also putting our money where our mouths are: this year, we expect to break $400,000 in new grant awards for the first time in our history, pushing our total awards since inception over $4.4 million. With $385,000 raised by this year’s Tour, next year’s number should build on that further. It is satisfying to me to leave that strong base behind for my successor.

And with that, I doff my cap to you all, grateful for our time together. Your work makes a difference, and it moves me. Thank you for the opportunity to have served.

Come along with me, and the butterflies and bees. We can wander through the forest, and do so as we please . . .

Move On . . .

Note: Here is my “Leading Thoughts” column from the August 2019 edition of TREE Press, the monthly gazette of TREE Fund. You can read the latest and back editions, and subscribe to future installments, by clicking here.

Another Note: You might should play this song while you read it. It’s a favorite. 

I am writing this column on July 29, 2019, which is my father’s 80th birthday. He was a career Marine Corps officer, serving with distinction for 28 years, including arduous combat tours in Vietnam and Lebanon. After his final active duty military assignment as Chief of Staff at Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, he worked on for another decade as the general manager of WAGP, a radio station operated by his church in South Carolina’s Low Country. In August 2002, he finally decided to retire for good, ready to enjoy many well-deserved years of rest and relaxation with my mother. One month later, he was driving on one of the Low Country’s narrow causeways when an elderly driver inexplicably lost control of his car and hit him head on. He died from his injuries three days later, in the same hospital where I was born. He was 63 years old.

dadmemorial

We ran this memorial in the Beaufort Gazette on the 10th anniversary of my Dad’s death. Time flies, and it doesn’t ever move backward in this universe . . .

As a “gentleman of a certain age,” I have found myself reflecting on my father’s story in recent years, as my work life has often involved long separations from my family, as his did. Those reflections were part of the mental arithmetic that led me to recently announce my retirement as President and CEO of TREE Fund, effective October 31. My wife and I have both worked hard, lived simply, and saved well for a long time, so I’m blessed to have the ability to take that next step into retirement now. Sure, I could hang on and just keep working the “nine to five” to put some more money in the savings account, as my father did, bless him, working diligently toward a retirement which he never got to enjoy. But I learned a lesson from that: it’s okay to let go and leave when you can — so I am.

I’ll be riding the Tour des Trees again this year and hopefully (health permitting) for many years to come, and I plan to stay engaged with and supportive of the amazing global network of tree care researchers and practitioners who have taught me so much during my time at TREE Fund and have been so generous and welcoming to me over the past four years. I had a robust freelance writing practice earlier in my career, and I plan to get back to that in the years ahead, so if you ever need a hired pen, we should talk. I’ve also got some book-length manuscripts that have been begging for my time and attention, so I’ll be glad to return to those personal projects soon.

I have a few more of these columns ahead before I step aside from my current role, so for this month, I want to close simply by expressing my deepest gratitude to you all. I am proud to have supported your collective success in my own small ways. Your work, your gifts, and your faith in the crucial importance of urban and community forests truly move me. Thank you!

From Whence I Spring

My Mom moved back to Beaufort, South Carolina last year, where I was born, smack in the middle of the Low Cackalacky region where she was raised and where our family has been for a long, long time. My sister and I went down there for a quick trip this week. She’s turning 50 next week, and my dad would have celebrated his 80th birthday a couple of weeks ago were he still with us, and we don’t quite exactly know how old my Mom is, but it still seemed like a good season for the three of us to spend some time on our home turf together and celebrate. (Plus my Mom tricked us by scheduling surgery, then cancelling. Well played, you!) We ate way too many boiled peanuts (among many other things) and just enjoyed a few lazy days, including a trip to Beaufort National Cemetery (where my Dad is buried) and Hunting Island, which I consider to be the prettiest beach on the East Coast, hands down. Here’s some photo evidence . . .

Beaufort Waterfront Park and Marina

Can’t tell you how many hours I’ve spent sitting up there when the drawbridge is open

My sister reliving her life guard days at Hunting Island

My sister continuing to revisit her lifeguard days

Lighthouse at Hunting Island

Glad that the island has (mostly) recovered from a year closure after Hurricane Matthew

Forrest Gump (left side view)

Forrest Gump (right side view)(My fave bench in a little downtown pocket park that tourists mostly ignore)

Mom made my sister and I sit together at dinner. Ewww.

Live Oaks and marsh: unbeatable beauty.

The massive live oak above my Dad’s grave.

“Touch Trees” (TM Alex Shigo) with my Mom.

Touch Wine (TM My Mom)

Credidero #7: Community

If you were to create a word cloud of every document, article, letter, and email I’ve written during my four years as President and CEO of TREE Fund, I suspect that after the obvious mission-related words — tree, forest, research, endowment, education, arborist, etc. —  the word that would show up most frequently would be “community.” I use it all the time, referring to the Tour des Trees as our primary community engagement event, discussing how our work helps the global tree care community, noting that our work focuses on the importance of urban and community forests, by promoting research designed to benefit whole communities of trees and related organisms (including humans), rather than individual specimens or species.

If you ran that same word cloud for the four years before I arrived at TREE Fund, you most likely would not see “community” ranked so highly in our communications. We used to refer to the Tour des Trees as our primary fundraising event, and we discussed how our work benefited the tree care industry, and how our efforts advanced arboriculture, with much of our research focused on individual plants, rather than their collectives. This change in language was not an organizational shift driven by some strategic planning decision, nor was it a modification to what we do and how we do it directed by our Board or emergent outside forces. It was frankly just me shaping the narrative about the organization I lead, and I how I want it to be perceived.

Calling the Tour des Trees a “fundraising event,” for example, misses the critical component of how we interact with people as we roll on our way throughout the week, providing education and outreach to help people understand our work and how it benefits them. Saying that we work for the “tree care industry” seems somehow crass and antiseptic to me, implying that the businesses are more important than the people who collectively engage in the hands-on work of caring for trees. “Urban forests” can be confusing to folks in its evocation of big city park spaces, even though street trees, yard trees and trees along utility rights of way in suburbs, exurbs, and rural spaces are also part of our mission’s purview. And thinking first of communities of trees, rather than individual plants, helps us better understand and communicate the exciting, emergent science exploring the ways that trees have evolved as communal organisms, sharing information and nutrients through root-based symbiotic networks.

I’d be fibbing if I said that I had purposefully made these and other related linguistic changes as part of an intentional, organized shift in tone. It just happened as I went along, and it honestly didn’t actively occur to me that I had done it in so many ways and places until I started thinking about this month’s Credidero article. But the changes are clearly there, evidence of the fact that it’s somehow deeply important to me, personally and professionally, that TREE Fund acts and is perceived as part of something bigger and more connected than our relatively small physical, financial and personnel structure might otherwise dictate. I do believe that words have power, and if you say something often enough, and loudly enough, that people begin to perceive it as true, and then it actually becomes true, even if nothing has really changed except the word(s) we use to describe ourselves and our activities.

So why is “community” such an important and transformative word in my personal worldview? As I normally do in these articles when thinking about questions like that one, I looked into the word’s etymology: it comes to us English-speakers via the Old French comuneté, which in turn came from the Latin communitas, which ultimately boils down to something “shared in common.” But there’s a deeper layer in the Latin root that’s preserved to this day in cultural anthropology, where communitas refers to (per Wiki) “an unstructured state in which all members of a community are equal allowing them to share a common experience, usually through a rite of passage.”

The interesting corollary here, of course, is that those who do not or cannot participate in that rite of passage may neither partake of nor receive the benefits of communitas. Peter Gabriel’s “Not One Of Us” has long been one of my favorite songs, both musically (Gabriel, Robert Fripp, John Giblin and Jerry Marotta put in some sublime performances here) and lyrically, with one line standing out to me as a key bit of deep wisdom, writ large in its simplicity: “How can we be in, if there is no outside?” That deepest root of the word “community” captures that sense of exclusion: there’s a positive sense of belonging for those who have crossed the threshold for inclusion, while those who haven’t done so are (to again quote Mister Gabriel) “not one of us.”

So are many (most?) communities perhaps defined not so much by who they include, but rather by who they exclude? I suspect that may be the case. When I first arrived at TREE Fund, for example, I had a couple of early encounters and experiences where folks communicated to me, explicitly and implicitly, that they saw TREE Fund not as a cooperative symbiote, but rather as predatory parasite, on the collective body of tree care professionals and their employers. I was also made to feel uncomfortable in a few situations by my lack of hands-on experience in professional tree care, including the fact that I had no certification, training, or credentialing as an arborist or an urban forester. I had not passed through the “rite of passage” that would have allowed me to partake of the tree peoples’ communitas, and so in the eyes of some members of that community I was (and probably still remain) on the outside, not the inside. So my push over the past four years for TREE Fund to be an integral part of a larger professional community may be, if I’m honest and self-reflective, as much about making me feel included as it is about advancing the organization.

When I look bigger and broader beyond TREE Fund, I certainly still see a lot of that “inside/outside” paradigm when it comes to the ways in which we collectively organize ourselves into communities, locally, regionally, nationally, and globally, oftentimes along increasingly “tribal” political lines, e.g. Blue States vs Red States, Republicans vs Democrats, Wealthy vs Poor, Christian vs Muslim vs Jew, Liberal vs Conservative, Citizen vs Immigrant, Brexit vs Remain, etc. Not only do we self-sort online and in our reading and viewing habits, but increasingly more and more people are choosing to live, work, date, marry, and socialize only within circles of self-mirroring “insiders,” ever more deeply affirming our sense that the “others” are not like us, are not part of our communities, and may in some ways be less important, less interesting, less deserving, or even less human than we are.

That’s certainly the narrative being spun by our President right now through social media, spoken statements, and policy initiatives, as he seems adamantly opposed to “an unstructured state in which all members of a community are equal.” Which is dismaying, given the allegedly self-evident truths we define and hold in our Nation’s organizational documents, ostensibly designed to bind us as a community under the leadership of a duly-elected Executive, who is supposed to represent us all. That said, of course, we know that the infrastructure of our great national experiment was flawed from its inception in the ways that it branded some people as less than fully human, and some people as not qualified to participate in the democratic process, due to their skin color or their gender. I’d obviously like to think that we’re past those problems, some 250 years on, but the daily headlines we’re bombarded with indicate otherwise. Insiders will always need outsiders . . . and communities may often only feel good about themselves by feeling bad toward those they exclude. I suppose several thousand years of history show that may well be a core part of what we are as human beings (I explored that theme more in the Inhumanity Credidero article), and that maybe aspiring to create positive communities of inclusion may be one of the nobler acts that we can pursue.

I’m stating the obvious in noting that the ways we can and do build community, for better or for worse, have radically changed over the past 25 years or so with the emergence of the world wide web and the transformations made possible by it. If you’d asked me to describe what “community” meant to me before 1993, when I first got online, I’d likely have focused on neighborhoods, or churches, or fraternal organizations or such like. I’d say that within less than a year of my first forays into the internet’s kooky series of tubes, though, I was already thinking of and using the word “community” to refer to folks I romped and stomped with online, most of whom I’d never met, nor ever would meet, “in real life.”

I wasn’t alone, as the word “community”  has became ever-more widely and casually used over the years to describe clusters of physically remote individuals interacting collectively online, via an ever-evolving spectrum of technological applications, from ARPANET to the World Wide Web, from bulletin boards to LISTSERVs, from mailing lists to MMORPGs, from blogs to tweets, and from Cyber-Yugoslavia to Six Degrees to Friendster to Orkut to Xanga to Myspace to LinkedIn to Facebook to Twitter to Instagram to whatever the next killer community-building app might be.  I actually wrote a piece about this topic ten years or so ago for the Chapel + Cultural Center‘s newsletter, and at the time I used the following themes and rubrics to frame what community meant to me:

  • An organized group of individuals;
  • Resident in a specific locality;
  • Interdependent and interacting within a particular environment;
  • Defined by social, religious, occupational, ethnic or other discrete considerations;
  • Sharing common interests;
  • Of common cultural or historical heritage;
  • Sharing governance, laws and values;
  • Perceived or perceiving itself as distinct in some way from the larger society in which it exists.

And I think I stand by that today, noting that a “specific locality” or “a particular environment” may be defined by virtual boundaries, rather than physical or geographical ones. But then other elements embedded within those defining traits raise more difficult questions and considerations, including (but not limited to):

  • What, exactly, is an individual in a world where identity is mutable? Is a lurker who never comments a member of a community? Is a sockpuppet a member of a community? Are anonymous posters members of a community? If a person plays in an online role-playing game as three different characters, is he one or three members of the community?
  • How are culture and historical heritage defined in a world where a six-month old post or product is considered ancient? Do technical platforms (e.g. WordPress vs. Twitter vs. Instagram, etc.) define culture? Does history outside of the online community count toward defining said community?
  • What constitutes shared governance online? Who elects or appoints those who govern, however loosely, and does it matter whether they are paid or not for their service to the group? What are their powers? Are those powers fairly and equitably enforced, and what are the ramifications and consequences when they are not? Is a virtual dictatorship a community?

I opined then, and I still believe, that there is a fundamental flaw with online communities in that virtual gatherings cannot fully replicate physical gatherings, as their impacts are limited to but two senses: sight and sound. While these two senses are clearly those most closely associated with “higher” intellectual function, learning and spirituality, the physical act of gathering or meeting in the flesh is much richer, as it combines those cerebral perceptive elements with the deeper, more primal, brain stem responses that we have to taste, touch and smell stimuli. While I’m sure that developers and designers and scientists are working to figure out ways to bring the other three senses into meaningful play in the digital world, a quarter century after I first got online, there’s been no meaningful public progress on that front, and I am not sure that I expect it in the next quarter century either.

Image resolution and visual interactivity get better and better (especially on the virtual reality front), while sound quality actually seems to get worse and worse over time, when we compare ear buds and “loudness war” mixes to the warm analog glory days of tube amps and box speakers — but that’s it, really. And as long as we are existing digitally in only two senses, exchanging messages online removes any ability to experience the physical reality of actually touching another person, be it through a hand-shake, a kiss, a squeeze of the arm or a pat on the back.  The nuances of facial expression and inflection are lost in e-mails and texts, often leading to confusion or alarm where none was required or intended. There is no ability to taste and feel the texture of the food we discuss in a chat room. It still seems to me that the physical act of community building is a visceral one that appeals to, and perhaps requires, all of our senses, not just those that can be compressed into two-dimensions on our computer screens.

I still believe that two-dimensional communities are, ultimately, destined to disappoint us sooner or later for precisely that reason. I have certainly spent countless interesting hours within them — but if you plotted a curve over time, my engagement grows smaller by the year. While people often compare the dawn of the Internet era to the dawn of the printing press era, it’s important to note that the earlier cataclysmic shift in the way that information was preserved and presented (from spoken word to widely-available printed material) did not result in the elimination of physical gatherings, upon which all of our innate senses of community have been defined and built for centuries, as has been the case in the Internet era. Communication happens more readily now, for sure, and communities may be built almost instantaneously, but they’re not likely to have all of the lasting resonances that their traditional in-person counterparts might offer.

I note, of course, that my feelings on this topic are no doubt influenced by the fact that my adulthood straddles the pre-Internet and post-Internet divide. I was raised without computers and cell phones and instantaneous access to pretty much anybody I wanted to connect with, anywhere in the world, so my communities couldn’t be accessed or engaged while sitting alone in my bedroom. I don’t know how many people have been born since 1993, but many (most?) of them, having been fully raised in the digital world, may not be wired (no pun intended) to feel that distinction. And when I continue to make that distinction, they likely see me in the ways that I once would have perceived a grouchy old man shaking his fist and shouting “Get off my lawn, you kids!”

Generational issues aside, I do think that some of the uglier aspects of online communities — bullying, hateful echo chambers, exploitation of weaker members, cruelty hidden behind anonymity — are blights on our culture and our souls, and are having direct cause-effect impacts on the nastiness of our modern social and political discourse. If Twitter and Facebook and other social media sites were shutdown tomorrow, a lot of online communities would cease to exist, sure, but the impact of that global loss of connection would not necessarily be a net negative one. But the genie’s out of the bottle on that front, I suppose, as barring a full-scale catastrophic failure of the global communication network, communities (ugly and beautiful alike) will just emerge in new virtual spaces, rather than those billions of people returning en masse to traditional, in-person community building.

But some of them might. And I might be one of them. I’ve written here before about being “longtime online” and often a very early adopter of new platforms and technologies as they’ve emerged. But somewhere in the past decade or so, I stopped making leaps forward in the ways that I communicate with people and engage with communities online. The next thrilling app just sort of stopped being any more thrilling than the one I was already using, so inertia won out. I bailed on Facebook around 2012, and have used Twitter almost exclusively to communicate online (outside of this blog) between then and last month, when I decided to let that go too.

Beyond social media, I have had several online forum-based communities in which I was very active over the years (Xnet2, Upstate Wasted/Ether [defunct], The Collider Board [defunct], The Fall Online Forum, etc.), and those have mostly fallen by the wayside as well. I’ve retained some very meaningful communications with some good friends from those spaces via email and occasional in-person meetings, but it’s one-on-one connection between us for the most part, and not dialog and group play unfolding in public before the rest of the community. And, again, I think I’m finding it easy to walk away from those public communities, for the most part, because the personal depth of the connections I’ve made gets shallower as the years go on, and even some of the long-term connections just sort of run their courses and stagnate, because there’s really no organic way for the relationships to grow or advance in any meaningful way.

Maybe again this is just a me-getting-older issue, but I get more richness of experience within my communities that exist in real space, and real time, than I used to, and I get less from my online connections. A desire to move more toward that probably played some psychological part in how hard I pushed the word “community” in my professional life, trying to build one there, not only through online means, but also through the scores of conferences that I’ve attended over the years, with tree care scientists and practitioners from around the world. That is a good community. I believe that I have improved TREE Fund’s standing within it. And that feels good.

Part of the cost of doing that, though, was really failing to become part of any meaningful real-world community where I actually lived in Chicago, and also being separated from the little community that means the most to me: my family. A big part of my decision to retire this year was the desire to get that priority inequity better aligned, and I think that as we look forward to our next move as a family, whenever and wherever it is, I’ll be more inclined to put the effort in to make new community connections there, rather than just hanging out on the computer chatting about arcane subjects with what Marcia fondly refers to as my “imaginary friends.”

One of my personal goals for the Credidero (reminder: it means “I will have believed”) project was to spend a month or so considering and researching a given topic, and then exploring how I felt about it, not just what I thought about it, to see if there were some new insights or perspectives for me, perhaps as articles of faith, or different lenses through which to view my world going forward. Somewhat ironically, this month’s “community” topic has been the hardest for me to consider and write, almost entirely because I’ve already spent so much time thinking about it and writing about it over the years that I already have a stronger set of well-formed beliefs on the topic that I’ve had on any of the others thus far.

How I act on those beliefs, though, I think is evolving, hopefully in ways that connect me more meaningfully with a more local or in-person communities, rather than spending so much time alone (in real life) while sort of together (in virtual space). I imagine that retirement, with all the newly available time it entails, will be a much richer experience that way. Less thinking and writing about community all by myself, and more experiencing community with others.

And on that note, I think I’m going to go sit out by the pool and see if there’s anybody to talk to . . .

A community of tree people and cyclists. More fun in person than online!

Note: This article is part of an ongoing twelve-part writing project. I’m using a random online dice roller to select a monthly topic from a series of twelve pre-selected themes. With this seventh article complete, I roll the die again . . .

. . . and next month I will consider Topic Number Four: “Complexity”

All Articles In This Series:

Credidero: A Writing Project

Credidero #1: Hostility

Credidero #2: Curiosity

Credidero #3: Security

Credidero #4: Absurdity

Credidero #5: Inhumanity

Credidero #6: Creativity

Credidero #7: Community

Credidero #8: Complexity

Credidero #9: Eternity

 

TREE Fund Trustees Announce Search for Next President/CEO

Note: This announcement was released this morning, so I am cross-posting here. I will provide some more personalized reflections on the news in my August “Leading Thoughts” column for TREE Press — but wanted to get this out now on my personal website, just in case you know someone who might be interested in and qualified for the position, and to let my non-tree peeps know that a new chapter will be opening for me in the months ahead.

TREE Fund President and Chief Executive Officer J. Eric Smith has announced his retirement, effective October 31, 2019. The Board of Trustees are beginning the search for his replacement immediately.

“TREE Fund’s Trustees are happy for Eric and his family as they move on to the next phase of their lives, though obviously very sorry to see him leaving the organization,” notes TREE Fund Board Chair Steve Geist, BCMA, RCA. “Eric has positioned TREE Fund exceptionally well over the past four years. We consider our President/CEO position to be a highly attractive opportunity for a skilled nonprofit professional. We expect our next leader to build on his successes as we continue our work on behalf of urban and community forests and the hard-working professionals who care for them. We are glad that Eric intends to stay involved in our work as a Tour des Trees rider and donor, and we are grateful to have his assistance in the search process through the months ahead.”

The full position description for TREE Fund’s President/CEO is available here. TREE Fund is a 501(c)3 organization based in the greater Chicago region. Established in 2002 via a merger of the International Society of Arboriculture Research Trust and the National Arborist Foundation, TREE Fund has awarded over $4.3 million in grants toward its mission of identifying and funding programs that support the discovery and dissemination of new knowledge in arboriculture and urban forestry.

The President/CEO search is open now and will continue until the desired candidate is hired. Qualified applicants who are interested in the position must submit a complete resume with a cover letter clearly expressing why the role interests them, how their professional experiences suit them for this leadership role, their salary expectations, and their starting availability timeline. Required documents must be emailed to jesmith@treefund.org with the subject line “President/CEO Search.” Resume and cover letter titles must include the applicant’s full name.

Please do not call TREE Fund’s offices with inquiries regarding the status of the search or of your application. 

It’s a great gig . . . I hope you will share the word that it is available!