Imagine this: a circle of people, young and old, sitting in folding chairs on the hardwood floor of the multi-purpose room of the old Olympia Community Center, now long demolished from its site on the east side hill.

It’s the third season of the nascent Olympia Farmers Market. I’m one of the young ones, a 20-something and the Market manager, sitting in this circle with farmers, home gardeners, and market fans. Now imagine, too, that the meeting is less than efficient, that conversations are circular, as people pontificate, argue, and scratch their heads on how to make the market sustainable.

Also in the circle is a woman named Lu Hall, former director of the Retired Senior Volunteer Program. In her 50s, short black hair streaked with gray, Lu is mainly quiet in all this huffing and puffing. But she occasionally raises her hand and says something like, “Would anyone mind if I took our scale to get certified for this year?” or “Would it be helpful if we . . . ” and she’d gently point out something we might need to stay legal, like . . . oh . . . say a license from the Department of Revenue.

She was the most effective, least bossy woman I’d known. In my memory of her, she took up such little space and instead helped others step forward, which definitely included me in my formative years. In the scheme of things, her work was pedestrian. Her name is not widely known in Olympia. Yet, she quietly helped shepherd the Olympia Farmers Market from its inception through its first tumultuous decade. 
Her mentorship meant the world to me, even more so now as my own hair begins to gray. It’s aspirational but I try to channel Lu when I have my head on straight: Look ahead, don’t take up too much space, and be helpful, if possible.  It’s a good way to live a life.