My Journey as President of the Warren Heritage Society

There are moments in life when you step into a role and realize, almost immediately, “Oh… this is going to change me.” Not in a dramatic Hollywood‑slow‑motion kind of way — but in that slow, steady, deeply human way that comes from showing up for something bigger than yourself.

That’s exactly what happened when I stepped into the Warren Heritage Society.
When I arrived, the organization wasn’t loud or chaotic. It wasn’t on fire. It wasn’t even moving. It was quiet. Stalled. Broken, tired, and failing. No leader. No oversight. No direction. Just a couple of exhausted employees doing everything they could with almost nothing to stand on.
They were begging for help — and listen, I’ll be honest: I don’t know if the help they wanted was me.

Because I warned them from day one, loud and clear:
I do not half‑ass anything.

If I’m putting my time, my energy, and my name into something, then things are going to change.

Not eventually.
Not someday.
Immediately.

And ohhh boy… did they.

The moment I stepped into the role, the stillness cracked open. We started asking hard questions — the kind people avoid because the answers require accountability. We looked at what wasn’t working, what had been ignored, what had been duct‑taped instead of fixed. We rebuilt systems, expectations, and structure. We brought clarity where there had been confusion, direction where there had been drift, and purpose where there had been exhaustion.

I didn’t come in to babysit a nonprofit.
I came in to revive it.

And revival? Revival is not gentle.
It’s disruptive
. It’s uncomfortable.
It’s loud.
It’s necessary.

But then something happened.

We built a real board of directors — not just names on paper, but actual people who showed up, asked questions, made decisions, and cared. We hired an Executive Director. We brought in an Archives Manager. Suddenly, there was leadership. There was oversight. There was accountability. There was a new direction.

And then there was me — crazy, determined, and full of ideas. (Dangerous combination, I know.)
The organization that had been broken, tired, and failing finally had momentum. It had structure. It had people who believed in the mission and were willing to do the work. We weren’t patching holes anymore; we were rebuilding the foundation — brick by brick, meeting by meeting, with grit, humor, and a whole lot of “well… here we go” moments.