
My marketing agency is 9 years old this month. I started it the day after the 2016 presidential election. Helluva day to start, yeah?
I'd woken up that morning, unemployed, with a new president-elect that I wasn't particularly excited about. A lot of people probably crawled into a hole that day. I could not blame them.
It had been a long, dark autumn.
I'd been laid off from a job late in the summer and rattled around Seattle for a few months, chatting with agencies and companies about work. No one had hired me, and to be honest I wasn't sorry about that.
But on this November morning, I sat at the kitchen table. My dogs, Clyde and Maeby, were on the couch, staring at me. Kara was at work and the house was quiet. I remember feeling that there wasn't a lot in the world that I could control, but here was something that perhaps I could.
So I filled out some state documents, paid a few fees, and suddenly owned a marketing firm named Clyde Golden. No clients. No revenue. But I did something that day. Took an action.
I guess that's how next steps always start.
In the days that followed I joined the dogs on the couch and started sending out notes to potential clients.
It's another November day, nine years later, and I'm still out here looking for new clients. The team and I are busy these days with client work, but I still sent out a handful of notes to people at nonprofits who I honestly believe we could help.
My ancient black lab, Maeby, is here on the couch with me right now. Staring at me, probably hoping our new puppy, Willie, doesn't come downstairs and find us.
Some things just never really change.

Last month, I packed up the Clyde Golden exhibition booth and drove down to Portland for the two-day Nonprofit Impact Conference. I enjoyed the conversations, and realized I’ve gotten better at describing what we do.
The conference offered field trips after the second day, and I chose the World Forestry Center, where the curator led a small group of attendees through their featured art exhibit, "Sasquatch: Ancestral Guardians". The works in this exhibition were created by Indigenous artists.

I grew up in SW Washington, near Mt. St. Helens, where we'd have the occasional Sasquatch report, and I've always enjoyed (okay, sought out) Sasquatch lore.Here are a few things I didn't know.
First, in many Indigenous cultures across North America, Sasquatch is considered not a predator to be feared but a benevolent guardian of the forest—a figure who shields people from unseen dangers and negative forces.
Second, when you hear a blue jay singing in the woods, it's likely telling Sasquatch of your presence—nature’s alert system between people and what lurks in the forests.
If you find yourself in Portland, check out the World Forestry Center. It's right across the parking lot from the Oregon Zoo. The art exhibit is a smart example of a nonprofit leveraging a tangential, engaging story to attract new people and interest to their mission.
As we get closer to the Thanksgiving holiday, I highly encourage everyone to stop working, kick up your feet (if that’s what does it for you - I’ll be out in my boatshop working on a new runabout), and remember what it feels like to relax. Hit reply and say hi, too. I’d like to hear about all the meetings you just canceled upon reading this section.