Commission

She lightly traces the gold etched “1952” on the leatherette cover of a small black notebook. “42 years before I was born,” she marvels. “An uncle I never knew existed is about to change my life forever.”

Slowly easing breath into her tight chest, afraid the slightest disturbance might reshape a moment she can never recapture, she gingerly opens the soft, worn cover. Two dates were circled in faded blue ink on the calendar printed inside the cover. On the opposite page, beneath the stationer’s logo in the same blue ink was “Andrew Dankworth, 25 Raven Row”.

“Hello Uncle Andy.”

On the next page her uncle had written in impeccable square print: “What is the use of living, if it be not to strive for noble causes and to make this muddled world a better place for those who will live in it after we are gone? - Winston Churchill”

Dana feels as though she is embarking on an ancestral rite of passage and wants to take her time honoring a legacy bestowed upon her just hours earlier.

Knowing sleep will not come easily, she warms a mug of chamomile tea and moves to the armchair where her cat Boo is snoozing. They settle together beneath an afghan her Gran made for her when she was a girl. Dana loves having the comfort of wool and Boo’s purring accompany her thoughts. “Gran was Uncle Andrew’s youngest sister. Why had she never mentioned him?”

This family story, at least it would be a family story for her to tell years from now, began a week earlier with a simple notecard. The owner of the gallery that sells her wildlife photography had slapped a fuschia post-it note on a mint green envelope included with a mailed payment. The angular scrawl said, “A woman who purchased one of your pics asked that we forward this to you.”

The notecard’s message was to the point and intriguing: “Love your Canadian Gaggle. You capture the spirit of family beautifully. I’ve discovered that you are related to my late business partner and would like to commission a work from you in his memory. As I live in England, please arrange to meet with a business colleague who lives in your city to discuss this further. Phil.”

A business card included with the note brought her to “Garyth Hastings, Financial Consultant” this morning. A stylish young receptionist was unsuccessful at stifling a surprised gawk when Dana walked into the office and announced she had an appointment to see Mr. Hastings. The receptionist was about Dana’s age, twenty six. Her immaculate presentation immediately made Dana painfully self-conscious of her own shabby khakis and uniform red polyester golf shirt. “How was I to know I’d be sitting in the waiting area of an office that screams money and success?” she groans.

“Please come in, Miss Dankworth. I’m so very pleased to meet you.”

Garyth Hastings was a soft-spoken man. He had what her Gran would call a proper English accent and was dressed as Dana imagined any proper English businessman would dress; navy suit, crisp white shirt, tasteful striped silk tie and polished oxfords.

She followed him into a large corner office with an expansive, fifteenth floor view of the city’s river valley; a stunning wash of autumn colored leaves edging the silvery-gray river water’s banks as far as she could see. Her camera eye was captivated and she instinctively made mental notes of angles and light.

“Phillipa will be joining us on screen shortly.” Garyth motioned to a large monitor on the wall that reluctantly pulled her gaze back to the less visual appeal of his office.

“Please take a seat.”

Dana’s petite frame was swallowed by an oversized armchair. She awkwardly pulled herself forward and perched at its edge just as a smiling woman with very short-cropped silver hair and the most astonishingly bright red glasses frames smiled at her from the wall.

“Dana, dear. You have your uncle’s ginger hair. How lovely!”

Dana smiled meekly.

“I assume your Gran, Ellen, has told you about her brother Andy. He stayed in Birmingham when the rest of the family moved across the pond, as they say. He already had a job that he was happy with when their parents decided to immigrate in 1950.”

Dana recalled seeing one black and white photograph of her Gran when she was two-years old. In the photograph, her Gran’s father is holding her against his hip. He and her Great Grandmother are standing formally in their Sunday best, surrounded by seven more children. The picture was taken just before they moved to Canada. Gran never spoke of England being too young to remember anything from her childhood there and never having returned.

“Andy was well into genealogy,” Phillipa continued. “That’s how I came to realize you were one of his great nieces. Dankworth is not a very common name, even here.”

Dana nodded, trying to keep up with and process this rapid, accented chatter.

“Do you see your photograph behind me, dear?”

Dana did see her work on the wall behind Phillipa and suddenly realized that there were eight goslings swimming with their parents in the print; eight goslings, eight siblings. Imagine that!

“Canadian Gaggle is a perfect tribute to Andy’s family,” Phillipa quipped.

Dana liked that Phillipa referred to the photograph by its title. It was respectful.

“This was Andy’s office. The room still smells of his pipe tobacco even though he passed just over a year ago. Andy had a rich life but he regretted never coming over to reconnect with his parents and brothers and sisters. He was a very busy man, very devoted to his work. I was in your beautiful Rocky Mountains for the first time last month. I sprinkled a few of Andy’s ashes there so that a part of him did make the trip over.” She smiled shyly and dabbed at a tear slipping beneath the frame of her glasses.

“That was the day I saw your photograph in the most darling Gallery. Serendipity, I think.”

Phillipa’s genial exuberance soon turned to business formality and within an hour of their meeting, Dana’s life took a new course. She left Garyth’s office with her Great Uncle’s black notebook, a manila file containing copies of signed documents and a bright, optimistic smile.

Garyth explained to Dana that the journal, the first of many Uncle Andy kept, was given to her to demonstrate how a lifetime of generosity began humbly. The yellowing pages she carefully turns beneath the lamplight shining from behind the armchair list charitable actions and transactions that began on the fifth of January, 1952: “Mrs. Cole - 1s - groceries. Her children’s names are Stephen and Carol.”

Each month of the year, he accounted for a total of one British pound that he gave to various people. He wrote brief personal descriptions about each after the sum: “Jimmy Dodd - 8s - petrol. Sick sister in Crawley,” and so on.

His notebook listed other ways he worked to make the world a better place as well: “16th of June - Painted Keith’s garden shed.”

Dana didn’t understand why he would keep such meticulous records but doing so demonstrated that he was earnest about what he was doing and it was a fascinating little book for her to read through more than fifty years later.

Phillipa had mentioned a commission in her note to Dana. That would come in a year’s time. Dana’s instructions for the next twelve months were to bestow and document similar acts of charity in her community.

Phillipa had guessed accurately that Dana lived the bohemian life of an artist and knew that living hand to mouth meant not having much money to share so she invested the potential $20,000 commision in a trust fund. The money would be granted to Dana in one year’s time if Phillipa was impressed by how Dana carried out the terms presented to her today.

Apparently Garyth was a brilliant investor so each month Dana would receive half of the investment’s accumulated interest to be used exclusively for her acts of altruism. Dana was also given a check for $2,000 which she could use however she liked.

“A token of goodwill,” Phillipa beamed.

Dana is a shy, private person. She’s uneasy about the task set before her but she’s also eager to leave day jobs behind for good and pursue the career in photography that she dreams of. She has a month to plan and bolster her confidence before receiving the first interest payment and she already has ideas percolating for what she hopes to accomplish.

Her first step will be to buy her own journal - a really nice one - to document this journey. She can now also purchase the camera lens she’s been saving for. The rest will go into her emergency fund. There are always unanticipated expenses that classify as emergencies in Dana’s frugal existence.

At the start of November, Dana checks the Interest Account set up by Phillia and Garyth online and, sure enough, $23.15 has been deposited to the account; not enough for a big change in anyone’s life but certainly enough for Dana to start with. Autumn was ushered out by an unseasonably fierce October snowstorm so Dana decided it would be fitting to bring warm socks to the men’s shelter near where she works.

Dana is comfortable making her first act of kindness an anonymous one but that plan immediately changes when she discovers that the guy at the shelter accepting donations is someone she’d taken a photography class with, Gary. He recognizes her red curls, even mashed under a toque, instantly and offers to give her a tour of the shelter where he’s been volunteering for the past six months.

Realizing what a difference her few pairs of socks means to men living on the streets impacts Dana deeply. In December, she puts $1,000 from her Emergency Fund into the benevolence account to accrue even more interest for those in need. She also begins volunteering at a women’s shelter, helping one of Gary’s friends set up a Christmas Carnival for the children staying there.

* * *

Phillipa follows Dana’s philanthropic progression from a shy, uncertain woman to a vibrant human right’s activist in five journals that were sent to her from Garyth’s office just as promised, twelve months later. A small black ledger, much like Andrew’s, lists each month’s expenditures and volunteer hours and four beautifully colorful, leather bound notebooks hold photographs and Dana’s thoughtful writings about each of the people she’d met over the past year.

A forest green journal begins with photos of the men’s shelter and includes heart-wrenching, shared stories of abuse and hardship. The first images in a bright purple journal are of smiling children drinking hot chocolate, surrounded by a blizzard of paper snowflakes suspended from the ceiling. By the summer, pictures and stories reveal that Dana is working with children at the women’s shelter quite regularly. A light tangerine journal contains pictures of strong women with intense gazes and Dana’s words tell stories of their determination to make better lives for themselves. Finally, a sea blue book reveals the progress of animal rehabilitation at a wildlife rescue facility. Phillipa feels that this journal features Dana’s best photographs. On its cover page Dana wrote: “The continued existence of wildlife and wilderness is important to the quality of life of humans. - Jim Fowler.”

Phillipa gazes fondly at the photograph of Andrew on the corner of her desk. “Your niece Dana has your spirit as well as your hair,” she confirms with satisfaction.

Phillipa is the Chief Executive Officer of Andrew’s Philanthropic Society dedicated to providing housing for the disadvantaged worldwide. The Society frequently works with International Artists to bring attention to their local homeless. Working with Dana will be an absolute pleasure.