Stephen Beaudoin

January 21, 2010.

I'm backstage at the Aladdin Theater in Portland, drenched in sweat and tears. We've just shut the place down with a door-busting musical finale at "Songs for Haiti," a major musical fundraiser to benefit Mercy Corps' on-the-ground Haiti disaster relief efforts that was organized in less than a week by a team of Portland changemakers.

I've just stepped offstage, and a wild-looking woman with a shock of grey hair makes a beeline to me:

"I'm Julie Mancini with Mercy Corps," she says.

Then, without missing a beat:

"And I just have one question for you - - -

How the fuck did you pull this off?"

So began my years-long relationship with Julie as mentor, confidante, advisor, and friend.

She was all of those things to me, and more - and not just to me. To dozens more... hundreds more... thousands more people.

Every few weeks for several years, especially from 2010 to 2013, Julie took several hours to meet with me - we called it nonprofit therapy. And it was. While downing Diet Cokes and fielding calls from various Portland luminaries, she offered kind counsel and priceless wisdom.

I learned more than I can ever calculate or say from our time together.

Just a few weeks ago in July of 2022, I texted Julie. It had been a few years since last we spoke, as I'd relocated to the east coast for various performing arts leadership posts. Having just finished an MBA, I was interviewed by a publication and asked what contributed to my success... I traced this back to the support and belief of mentors like Julie Mancini - then texted her a link to the story highlighting my shoutout and appreciation to her.

"Just made me cry. A lot," she texted back.

"Well done dear one."

Thank you, Julie. Well done, dear one.