How I became a junior badass
Top 5 Reasons to Volunteer
You meet the badasses for whom “no” is not an option.
You can act—and have impact—locally.
You stop doomscrolling and start doing.
You stay engaged.
With luck and practice, someday you become a badass yourself.
Civic Engagement and Endorphins
During the pandemic, I suddenly found myself with something I hadn't had in years: Time.
My wife and I had permanently settled into our little town in West County Sonoma. Mom was safe in assisted living, tucked in each night—often with a kiss from her boyfriend Bernie. Her bills were on autopay. Bernie schlepped to Trader Joe's for her "extras" and dispensed pills with the devotion of a pharmacist and the patience of a saint.
For the first time in years, I had time to volunteer for causes other than Mother. And that's when I discovered something unexpected. Volunteer work gives you endorphins.
Mostly because you meet badasses.
Shero #1: The OG Community Convener (OGCC)
One of my sheros is turning 82. She spent her career as a hospice nurse, which honestly tracks. Because she has spent most of her life caring for people—and towns.
Twenty years ago, she had the audacious idea that an open lot downtown should become a park. Not someone ought to do something. Not wouldn't it be nice. Just: This should be a park.
One nonprofit and many volunteers later, it is a glorious park. Today, the farmers market fills the park every summer. The rail trail runs through it. Kids play there. Tourists wander through. Generations use it because one hospice nurse had an idea and enough community cred to make it happen.
For her 80th birthday, OGCC didn't want gifts. She wanted a fundraiser. Thus Pie in the Park was born. Complete with pie-eating contest and dunk tank. I happily rediscovered my Little League pitching arm was warmed up and ready to dunk!
When I joined the local council as a town representative, OGCC pulled out a yellow legal pad and wrote down every business owner in town. Then she personally took me around and introduced me.
Everyone knew her. By association, I acquired transitive community cred. I still have that yellow piece of paper. Just in case.
One year, we decided to host a giant community cleanup day. Not everyone in our rural area has garbage service, but the county offered free hauling. OGCC sprang into action.
She:
picked the date (someone has to),
cajoled volunteers ("I know where you live"),
recruited local kids to make poster boards,
figured out traffic flow,
and signed the liability waiver.
"What the f***?" she proclaimed. "What are they gonna do—come after me?"
Eighty years old. Total badass.
Shero #2: The OG Disruptor (OGD)
OGD is somewhere north of 75. She was editor of the local free gazette, the monthly encyclopedia of all things county. The word No does not exist in her vocabulary. I'm unclear whether the word Rule does either. DIY is definitely her vibe. Volunteering with OGD is like getting caught up on county politics while simultaneously hauling things.
One summer, the Park-and-Ride in town became overgrown with weeds and littered with cigarette butts. Naturally, I spent several days researching jurisdiction. County? State? Caltrans? Someone else's problem?
My conclusion: Nobody was coming. "We'll do it ourselves," OGD said."We don't need high weeds during fire season."
And that was that. She showed up with:
goggles (practical),
a weed whacker (slightly terrifying),
and a flatbed truck (iconic).
Along with a posse of women volunteers.
Meanwhile, I spent the day picking up cigarette butts as penance for every one I flicked out my car window during my punk-rock high school phase. By afternoon I was exhausted.
"I can't do anymore," my 52-year-old self announced.
She looked at me.
"Okay. We can come back tomorrow."
And we did.
We loaded weeds into her truck. Finagled a free dump run. Of course everybody at the stump dump knew her. Of course they did. I have photos to prove I was there.
Total badass.
Lessons from OGCC and OGD
They taught me how to put together a run sheet for a town hall.
They taught me that fluorescent pink flyers work best.
That posters belong at the entrances to town.
That merchants will help if you ask.
That organizing rural broadband isn't all that different from organizing a protest in college in the late '80s.
Our town may disagree on politics or the Second Amendment, but we know how to come together around fires, floods, earthquakes and internet access. And we know how to listen.
Where I Landed: Junior Badass
Badass #3: The Star Chef
During the pandemic, a local star chef took over as Executive Director of Farm to Pantry and essentially declared war on food waste.
Not one peach. Not one zucchini. Not one persimmon left behind. Total badass.
Reinvigorated during the pandemic, she mobilized volunteers to glean produce from local farms and distribute it to food-insecure neighbors. It was pure bliss. Mornings spent out in the fields picking vegetables and fruit. Afternoons loading up the car and delivering boxes to community centers, where people were often waiting at the drop-off tables, ready to bring the food home and cook dinner.
I loved it so much I eventually traded in my Outback for a 4Runner because, let's face it, you can fit a lot more produce in the back. Peak middle age.
Badass #4: The Leslie Knope Aspirational Policy Wonk
And then there is my Sonoma County District 5 Supervisor. Self-described policy wonk. Get-it-done woman. Leslie Knope’s soul sister. Total badass.
Because we live in fire country, she even completed firefighter training. She created Municipal Advisory Councils so regular people could have a voice in local issues. Her philosophy?
"The people who live here know much better than I do."
Imagine that. Listening. Seven towns are represented on our council, and when I joined as the newbie, I was immediately handed an ad hoc committee to chair. Trash. Not metaphorical trash. Actual trash. Dumped mattresses. Roadside debris. Illegal dumping.
I became surprisingly well-versed in the Mattress Recycling Council and spent more time looking at piles of garbage than I ever imagined possible. And yes, I picked up plenty of it, too.
As the rookie, I had something to prove. Fortunately, by then I had been apprenticing under OGCC, OGD, a star chef who refused to leave a tomato behind, and a Leslie Knope-inspired supervisor who believed ordinary people deserved a seat at the table.
In other words, I was slowly earning my stripes. Junior Badass in training was in session.
And somewhere between the weeds, the produce boxes, the fluorescent pink flyers, and the yellow legal pads, I realized something.
Volunteer work isn't really about giving back. It's about hanging around badasses. The kind of people who don't ask, "Whose job is this?" They ask, "Okay, who's bringing the poster board?" And if I keep following OGCC, OGD, the Star Chef, and my Leslie Knope policy wonk around long enough, maybe one day—with a legal pad in one hand, a weed whacker in the other, and a car full of zucchini—I'll graduate from enthusiastic helper to Junior Badass. And honestly? That's the dream.
dōte.worthy:
Here is an article about volunteering from the guardian.
Here is an article about joining a volunteer community.
Here is an americorps programfor seniors helping seniors.
Here is a listing of volunteer opportunities for seniors in melbourne.
anecdōtes:
Welcome to anecdōtes, our weekly writing prompt for those of us taking care of aging loved ones while simultaneously googling “am I having a midlife crisis or is this just Tuesday?”
This Week’s Writing Prompt:
Who’s the badass you accidentally apprenticed under? What did they teach you without ever calling it teaching?
dōt.age exists because we’re all navigating the uncharted territory of caring for aging parents, and we need to share our stories.
This isn’t about being a writer—it’s about being human and sharing our messy, unfiltered truths of eldercare.
Each week, we’ll drop a prompt.
You write for five minutes.
No polish, no pressure—just permission to be gloriously imperfect.
If you want to share what you wrote, send it our way and we’ll share it on our Substack so we can all feel a little less alone in this wild mixtape that is our lives.
SEND TO: LNahmie@gmail.com