Travel back through time with me. It is 2015 and Project Armchair is a budding idea with a visionary who has not a clue how to proceed forward. The visionary would be me, Vonda Dahl, and I was completely clueless as to how to organize a volunteer-based non-profit organization.
Stumbling as I was to organize this idea, the name, Project Armchair, kept popping into my head and seemed kind of catchy. I hesitantly shared it with my first volunteers, who eventually became my Advisory Board members. They liked it too. With that decided, I sat down with my laptop and tried to mentally envision what I hoped for through our reading efforts. The following narrative descriptor was the result:
The sun...
streams through tall windows in yellow shafts of warmth.
The room is quiet, save for the gentle tick of the mantle clock,
and speckles of golden dust float noiselessly in the vacuum of sound.
The chair...
is massive, soft, and well-worn,
like the hug of an old, fuzzy bear.
A child is there, lost in the hug of the chair,
mesmerized by the hush of the sanctuary.
The book in her lap is a portal to another universe.
One without pain, fear, or uncertainty.
The child in the enormous choir does not hear the tick of the clock
or see the golden specks that float around her head.
She is only cognizant of the place she has entered through The Portal.
Her heart is light and her world at peace.
For this magic, sacred moment, all is well.
I had a name and mental vision shared through prose. Now I needed an image. Something that would convey the mission and vision through a single image.
Enter, Ali Hein. Ali was a colleague of mine when I started my teaching journey. We both taught in a tiny k-12 school located smack in the middle of nowhere out on the North Dakota open prairie. I taught first grade and Ali taught high school art. I loved her work, and I loved her as a person even more. She dripped sugar and whatever I threw at her, she was game for.
For example, as an interdisciplinary unit, I had arranged for my first graders to Skype with a penguin researcher located in Antarctica. The researcher promised that if we would send her a homemade flag, she would fly it at her research site, and send us pictures, which she did. Ali, of course, outdid herself creating the perfect banner for my students.
When I approached Ali about my fledgling idea for literacy based volunteer organization, we no longer worked together but she was happy to help, regardless. I shared my vision as best I could and asked her if she could paint a worn red chair. Once again, Ali delivered. It was as though she had peeked into my brain and read my thoughts. The Project Armchair board members were transfixed as well and declared it absolutely perfect. The red of the chair became “Project Armchair red” to us and we used that image countless times to create brochures, stickers, totes, and other items to represent our organization. For nine years we proudly displayed that old, well-loved, worn red chair as our mascot.
As with most things in life, eventually change must come. My board members agreed that we needed to update our logo to something more digitally compatible. It was a difficult decision as most changes are, but we found Levi Barker, a local graphic designer, who worked tirelessly with us to give birth to our new image. We said goodbye to the image of our roots and welcomed the newcomer. A bittersweet moment.
My dear friend, Ali, that beautiful soul who is so gifted and kind, said an unimaginable goodbye of her own this year. Her darling four-year-old, Lucy, died in her sleep on November 6, 2024. Lucy carried her mother’s beauty and charm in her short years and continues to shine through her sweet spirit, even though her parents’ arms no longer hold her. Lucy’s legacy is one of sunshine and joy. She brought happiness to everyone in her orbit.
I can’t help but believe that Ali’s legacy is the same. Project Armchair will forever be indebted to Ali Hein for understanding our vision and bringing it to her canvas through paint and brush.
You are our beginning, Ali, and as much a part of our story as any of the rest of us. We are indebted to you.
Keep shining, sweet friend.
*Just for funsies… links to my first graders’ Skype conversations with Antarctic researcher, Jean Pennycook:
