When I heard that dozens, then hundreds, of packages were being dropped off at a home in Northern Virginia, I knew who sent them: You.
Perspective by Theresa Vargas
“In memory of EA. Raven a shining example of leaving the world a better place,” one note read.
“Inspired by EA Raven who had kindness in her heart,” read another.
“In memory of E. A. Raven, a wonderful example to us all,” read yet another.
Thompson-Gaines shared those notes with me recently, and I am sharing them with you now because you are part of that story. You sent those packages. You are the reason Thompson-Gaines was able to walk up to a man who came to the pantry, show him the column on E.A. Raven and say, “Food for all!” “Si, comida para todo,” he replied. Yes, food for all.
I never expected to become a columnist. Growing up on the southside of San Antonio, if someone had told me that I would later have a platform that would allow me to share stories and viewpoints twice a week with thousands of people, I would have thought they were messing with me.
I would have also not believed them if they had told me what would come of some of those columns: Action.
But in the six years I have spent as a local columnist, I have seen you turn words into action time and again. Some of you have written letters and made phone calls to lawmakers. Others of you have given your time and expertise. Many of you have sent help in the form of encouragement and donations to people in need.
Witnessing those moments has been the most rewarding part of my job (and has more than made up for any hate mail I have received, because that, too, is part of the job). Those moments are also what I have been thinking about most in recent days as I have prepared to bring this column to an end and step into a new position at The Washington Post.
This is my final column. As a reporter and columnist, I have written about the Washington region for nearly 18 years, and now, I will be taking on the role of local enterprise editor. In that position, I will oversee a team of reporters who will produce deeply reported narratives, high-impact accountability pieces and engaging features that will explore lives, expose wrongdoing and delve into some of the most important and complex issues in the region.
I am excited about the journalism we will produce. I am also optimistic about the impact we can have because I have seen what happens when people are moved to act.
You showed me that. Again. And again. And again.
After I told you about a school library’s empty shelves, you sent more than 400 new books and donated funds for furniture and upgrades to the library. After I told you about an airport worker who was fired for supposedly asking for a tip, you helped her get her job back and you raised more than $46,000 for her. After I told you about a baby who went four months without a name, you made sure she got a birth certificate and diapers and formula and more than $38,000. She ended up, fittingly, named Justyce.
I could share with you many more examples. You helped laws get drafted and passed. You made sure migrant children got presents for Christmas. You caused the executive director of a nonprofit to cry.
“I’ve been in tears for days,” Ron Fitzsimmons told me after I wrote about Alice’s Kids in March of 2019 and donations started pouring in. In that initial column, I shared with you some of the requests the organization had received from social workers and teachers on behalf of school-age children: a music stand, soccer cleats, money for a band trip, undergarments that fit and dress clothes to attend a parent’s funeral.
“When a natural disaster takes everything from a family, we hear about it,” I wrote. “When a fire destroys a building, photos of those flames pull us in enough to wonder what was lost. The stories that come into Alice’s Kids, a Virginia-based nonprofit organization, are not like that. They are not big, and often they are not newsworthy. They are the stuff of quiet happenings and unseen heartbreak, occurring to children around us, without us knowing. They are what child poverty looks like on a micro, just-trying-to-get-through-the-day level.”
The organization helps children in a dignified way: It sends gift cards so the adults in their lives get to be seen as the heroes and those children never have to know they received charity. In that column, I wrote that the organization had spent about $27,000 the year before to help 377 children in the D.C. metro area. Recently, I asked Fitzsimmons what has changed since then. He said in 2023, the organization spent $846,000 on almost 10,000 kids and it aims to spend $1 million this year. They also now serve children in every state.
You helped make that happen.
I decided to write about you for this final column, because I haven’t always been able to give you updates. What makes a local column unique is that it is rooted in a region — it is about and for a community. It is local journalism, and right now that type of journalism is taking hits across the nation as staffs shrink and publications close. If we care about the survival of local journalism — and we should — we have to invest in it and engage with it. Many of you have sent me emails over the years (I’m sorry if I didn’t write back to all of you — I tried). I hope you will continue to send me tips and ideas for stories about fascinating people, interesting places and important issues.
When I first wrote about Thompson-Gaines, it was to tell you about a Kindness Yard Sale she holds to raise money that she puts toward committing acts of kindness throughout the year. She is known as the Kindness Activist, and she updates the public on those acts through her blog.
When E.A. Raven later started sending regular and thoughtful food donations — items that people wanted, not just needed — Thompson-Gaines and a group of neighbors who help with the pantry wondered who she was, where she lived and how she had found out about them. After her death, they learned that her real name was Elizabeth Ann Raven, she was from Indiana and she regularly read The Post (thanks E.A. Raven).
Days after I wrote about how the mystery of E.A. Raven had been solved, those delivery drivers started showing up, bringing piles of packages.
“I believe in KINDNESS RIPPLES,” Thompson-Gaines wrote on her Facebook page at the time. She shared that hundreds of packages had arrived. “From friends, neighbors, strangers — all around the country. All because of a ripple started by a mysterious, generous stranger. Thank you E.A. Raven. Thank you Washington Post. And THANK YOU amazing donors. Kindness ripple in action.”
When I spoke to Thompson-Gaines days ago, she said the pantry crew recently celebrated E.A. Raven’s birthday with a cake. She also said packages in her honor continue to arrive.
