Around here, “philanthropy” is practically a colloquialism — and that’s a good thing. We live in one of the nation’s wealthiest suburbs and within a half-hour of some of the poorest areas. The contrast can be startling, but it can also be motivating.
Philadelphia has a long history of noble philanthropic pursuits and an equally long list of people who, year after year, support a growing number of causes. It takes an enormous amount of funding to keep these organizations alive and strong—but the way most of us see it, if we can’t spare any money or time for a good cause, well, who can?
Right about now, between the mayhem on Wall Street and the annual holiday wrapping-paper drives, black-tie galas and such, many of us have had our fill of charitable giving. But allow us to bend your ear with a few more reasons to reach a little deeper into those pockets.
According to the 2008 Commonwealth Giving philanthropy report released by Delaware Valley Grantmakers (DVG), Pennsylvania is the seventh most generous state in the nation, with the Philadelphia region leading the state in charitable contributions. Foundations are the source of about one-fourth of the region’s philanthropic giving. The remainder comes from corporations, bequests and individuals.
As a DVG board member and the executive director of Plymouth Meeting’s Claneil Foundation, Mailee Walker has plenty of stats at her disposal based on research by Campbell & Company and the Giving USA Foundation, two organizations that track such trends. Among the most impressive findings: Charitable giving in 2007 cracked the $300 billion mark for the first time ever, with individuals contributing the lion’s share of all donor dollars—more than $229 billion. Adding to that is another $23 billion in bequests. “These reports reiterate just how critical individual gifts are,” says Walker. “And organizations such as DVG and the Philadelphia Foundation make it easier for funders to be more strategic and better informed.”
Far less impressive: DVG’s Commonwealth report indicates that Pennsylvania is falling behind national trends due to slow economic growth—and the problem is likely to be exacerbated by our current economic instability.
DVG’s association of grant-makers bridges the gap between funders and organizations in Philadelphia and the surrounding areas. It serves as a network for connections and learning, a resource of information for and about the region’s grant-makers, and a voice to encourage and advocate philanthropy.
One of outgoing executive director Nancy Lanham’s goals during her four-year tenure was to encourage non-member philanthropies and donors to join forces with DVG. “Foundation giving is frequently seen as social venture capital,” Lanham says. “Because of this, foundations look for improved approaches to service delivery, increased productivity, or improved outcomes as a result of their grants. The funding needed to stimulate these changes often requires cooperation among funders.”
Ultimately, DVG provides members with resources and connections, and enables them to improve their own grant making through peer learning and focused programming. All of this falls under the organization’s central goal, which is to build stronger communities through the increased impact and effectiveness of philanthropy. “In general, DVG encourages donors to give with purpose and to support general operations, rather than designating funds for a specific use,” says Lanham.
It doesn’t take an actuary to figure out that corporate giving ebbs and flows with profit margins—or that financial anxiety translates into a reluctance to spread the wealth. Leaders in all sectors of the philanthropic loop are well aware of the immediate challenges facing both givers and receivers. In these tough times, Lanham and others are working to keep the pipelines open.
“[The nonprofits have] a flawed business model,” says Andrew Swinney, president of the Philadelphia Foundation, the oldest charitable giving entity in the city. “When people [and the economy] are doing well, the demand for services goes down but giving is high. Conversely, demand for services increases when the economy slows or heads south—and contributions go down. Sudden lapses in funds put services and programs in jeopardy when they’re needed most.”
That in mind, Swinney is working to encourage donations and offer advice to nonprofits for weathering lean times. “We’re not as good at saving as we used to be,” he says. “We live too much for the present, and a lot of organizations tend to function the same way.”
While most nonprofits understand donor cultivation, they don’t always have the time to apply the concept. Often, says Swinney, it’s as simple as encouraging donors to “think about them” in their wills and estate planning, and building in a line-item expense that designates 1 percent of monies raised each year to a reserve account. That way, those who want to give to organizations near and dear to them can continue to do so despite downturns in the economy.
For its part, DVG plays a huge role in targeting where money is needed most, so when donors are looking for a place to give, they’ve got specifics. Donors would give more to regional organizations if they “better understood local needs, and if they knew where they could give to produce desired results,” says Lanham.
Because people tend to get mired in numbers, it’s unwise to weigh your donation against someone else’s—or worse yet, to assume others are getting the job done and your meager donation won’t make a dent. Continued giving is what most nonprofits want, not the onetime slam-dunk. And the more you know about how an organization manages its finances, says Swinney, the greater confidence you’ll have that your donation is being used in an effective way.
Swinney urges individuals and foundations to give as much as they can, regardless of the economy, and to engage the organizations they’re supporting in communication about their reserves and how they plan to build on them—not just in the next five years, but long past when their largest donors have passed away or have changed focus.
“It doesn’t matter how much you’re giving,” says Swinney. “Charitable donations should be viewed as an investment, not an expense.”
Tim Ifill and Matt Joyce are sitting on a park bench outside Philadelphia City Hall, half a block from their downtown office for Philly Fellows. For the moment, the 2003 Haverford College alums are focusing on the five-year reunion they’ll celebrate that weekend back on the idyllic suburban campus.
“It will be fun to get back,” Ifill says.
As students and roommates, they had so many on-campus activities that, despite being within striking distance of Philadelphia, they never really experienced the city. “We would go into the city for Sixers and Phillies games, but we didn’t really get to know Philadelphia,” Joyce says.
“With such a great resource as Philadelphia, to not take advantage of it, you’re really missing out,” adds Ifill.
Such was the thinking behind Philly Fellows, a yearlong post-graduate fellowship program offering new college graduates the chance to engage in the city’s neighborhoods and diverse nonprofit agencies. By encouraging young local graduates to remain in the city, they hope to bolster Philadelphia’s cultural, educational and social services sectors.
The timing is terrific. Philadelphia’s youth movement mirrors a national trend that increasingly finds young people involved in nonprofit, civic and political activities. “There’s definitely a lot of energy in Philadelphia,” Ifill says. “Our program wouldn’t work half as well without all this energy.”
The tarnished image of Philadelphia that was prevalent through the 1980s is behind the city, the two say—though Ifill admits the negativity was frozen in many minds until recently. “Largely, its image was as a crime-ridden, unsafe place plagued by urban blight—and you can probably throw in culture-less for good measure,” he says. “Back then, it was much more reasonable to say, ‘Philly? Why would anyone want to move there?’ Now, with pride, we say we live here. The city has come around in incremental steps, and we’re feeding on that.”
Once the co-founder and co-director of Philly Fellows, Ifill has become executive director since Joyce announced his resignation at summer’s end to begin a fellowship studying public policy at Harvard University.
Joyce arrived on the Main Line from Freeport, Maine. Ifill is from Abington. At Haverford, both were active with the Eighth Dimension Office of Community Service, spearheading the Street Outreach program that takes students into Center City once a week to distribute food to the homeless. Joyce also volunteered with Philadelphia Habitat for Humanity.
After graduation, Joyce spent 15 months as a policy analyst for the Philadelphia Committee to End Homelessness on a Haverford House Fellowship and another year coordinating the Haverford House program. In that same time span, Ifill spent two seasons working for the U.S. Forest Service in California’s Eastern Sierras. Once he returned to Philadelphia, he worked for After School Activities Partnerships, coordinating the Philadelphia Youth Chess Challenge.
Ifill and Joyce were roommates for seven years, all four at Haverford, then three years in a West Philly apartment. One summer, they even worked together on the campus grounds crew at Haverford. Earlier this year, the two 27-year-olds separated—though they moved within two blocks of each other in the Queen Village section of the city.
“I hardly even like this guy,” Joyce jokes. “We have the same sense of humor, and that went a long way.”
Joyce’s parents are teachers, so he grew up understanding public service. Ifill’s parents never used the word “service” as it’s used today, but rather “community” or just “helping the neighbors.” “I definitely absorbed some of that,” he says.
It’s not 1960s activism, though. While 40 percent of its budget (up to $752,000 this year) is funded by AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America), Philly Fellows hardly has an anti-powers-that-be philosophy. “We don’t think that way,” Ifill says. “We have the same spirit in the form of service, but that [’60s] movement has matured and evolved over the last four decades.”
There’s a different attitude, says Joyce. The Philly Fellows perspective is to make activism a career, rather than simply making a stink and moving on.
“There’s just a wider view of what constitutes activism,” Ifill says. “Plus, our fellows’ work is not direct service. They’re at their desks inside their buildings (a stipulation of VISTA). They’re not outside planting trees or ladling out soup in soup kitchens. In a way, we don’t see this as service, but rather as leadership.”
The first year, the fellows came from five partner schools: Haverford, Bryn Mawr, Swarthmore, the University of Pennsylvania and Temple. The second year, they added Saint Joseph’s University and La Salle, and had 84 applicants for 15 fellowships (up from 62 the first year). This year, 119 applied for the 20 spots. And for the first time, they accepted
applicants from non-local colleges.
Fellows are provided housing, employment, benefits and unlimited networking within the city’s arts/cultural, educational and social services sects. Because of the VISTA funding, they must serve to build the capacity of the agency (as opposed to direct service) and work toward eliminating poverty. Fellowships cannot include direct religious or political activity. Working 40-hour weeks, fellows dedicate a portion of that time to leadership and professional development training while helping to engage more students and young people in the community.
Now with 20 fellows, Ifill and Joyce opened a fourth house. “We’re still learning as we go,” Joyce says. “As we grow, we want to keep our core values. If we grew to 300 fellows next year, we’d have a hard time keeping our values. We’ll see how it goes with 20, but there’s room to grow.”
For their ever-increasing list of participating nonprofits, Philly Fellows provides educated, motivated employees and picks up much of the salary burden the agencies would otherwise have to pay. For supporting corporations, partnerships develop future civic leaders by strengthening the city’s nonprofit agencies. For the city itself, the fellowships stimulate interest and, ultimately, help spark community involvement and economic growth.
“Philadelphia is so divergent that you can get involved at a young age,” Joyce says. “There are so many issues to figure out, and so, just to be involved in the conversation your first year out of college is amazing.”
“What’s neat is the influence we can have,” Ifill adds. “We’re taking young people from different colleges and backgrounds who want to work toward a common goal of improving their community.”
In October, the next year’s agencies submitted interest applications to host fellows, and full applications were due in November. This month, the staff does site visits. By the end of January, agencies are selected to interview fellows.
By March or April, agencies are selected and matched with fellows, who begin their assignments each summer. This year, four fellows are 2008 Haverford graduates, two fellows are 2008 Bryn Mawr College alums, and three more are first-year Swarthmore grads.
The Philadelphia region has almost 90 colleges and universities, but too often, studies find, the smartest local graduates look elsewhere to start their careers. In years past, they’ve often been lost to New York or Boston—so-called “brain drain.”
A 2004 Knowledge Industry Partnership survey of local college graduates found that Philadelphia was not among the top-tier knowledge-industry regions. Most telling, however, was a separate study by the Nonprofit Center at La Salle University. It concluded that Philadelphia nonprofits would soon face a management crisis. Two-thirds of the then-223 executive directors of local nonprofits planned to step down by 2010.
“The statistic that’s really telling is the number of our fellows who are asked to stay on,” Joyce says. “Last year, nine of the 15 were asked, and six took jobs. Philly Fellows provided the foot in the door, but it’s still hard [financially] for nonprofits [to attract and retain talent]. We’re providing a great entree into a career the fellows are excited about.”
But will there be a long-term effect?
“What will be interesting is to see who puts down roots here, continues to develop, and stays in leadership roles in these agencies or others,” Ifill says. “The retention of young people is one sure way of making Philadelphia stronger. It’s all about getting people excited about the city.”
More than three years after Philly Fellows began, if anyone asks Ifill if it’s played out exactly as envisioned, he’d say it has—even if his longtime cohort is moving on, maybe to return one day.
“We’ve had so much great support right up front,” says Ifill. “We’re not saving the city, but we’re doing something really beneficial for it.”
To learn more about Philly Fellows, visit phillyfellows.org.
Haverford’s Dr. Jennifer Chu doesn’t fool around when it comes to battling pain—whether it involves an individual or an entire country. A native of Myanmar (formerly Burma), Chu has spent most of her adult life as a doctor in the United States and a member of the faculty at the University of Pennsylvania. Her focus on healing her patients’ pain led her on an 18-year quest to combine the ancient practice of acupuncture with modern technology and create a new type of pain treatment called eToims (electrical twitch obtaining intramuscular stimulation).
Rather than approaching pain relief from acupuncture’s physiological and metaphysical perspective, or via the top layers of muscle targeted by therapeutic massage, eToims goes deeper. The technology uses electrical impulses to stimulate injured muscles that have tightened around internal nerves. This creates a “trigger point” that, through electrical stimulation, can be made to quickly and involuntarily contract and relax.
The result is immediate pain relief for many patients. Meanwhile, the contraction and release helps reestablish blood flow to the damaged muscle, allowing it to heal more effectively.
It’s a new technology that requires specialized training and equipment, and currently, Chu’s eToims Soft Tissue Comfort Center at the University City Science Center in Philadelphia is the only place it’s available. Chu has written extensively on the procedure and has a growing list of patients, many of whom could find no relief through other pain medication methods and who swear by eToims. Plans are to spread the word through presentations at medical conferences and to gain government approval for the procedure in Europe and the U.S.
But pain comes in many forms, and Chu is all too aware of the challenges and hardships faced on a daily basis by people in her homeland. That suffering was exacer-bated this past spring with the devastation wrought by Cyclone Nargis, which made landfall over Myanmar’s Irrawaddy Delta on May 2. The level of destruction wasn’t immediately evident. But as news reports filtered out, it became clear that the poverty-stricken nation of 55 million—ruled since 1962 by a military government bent on maintaining control—had suffered a significant tragedy.
In a region where many of the inhabitants live in little more than bamboo huts, the losses were overwhelming. By the following week, aid organizations and international relief workers estimated that the death toll had reached as high as 200,000—even as the government insisted that the number was closer to 62,000.
Heightening the tragedy was the ruling regime’s reluctance to accept help from outside governments and organizations. Despite offers from around the globe, the government held firm and refused to allow foreign aid workers into the nation’s most damaged areas. But Chu—who jokes that “you can take me out of Burma, but you can’t take Burma out of me”—was prepared for just such an inevitability.
She and many other alumni from the Myanmar Institute of Medicine had already anticipated the potential for a disaster in their country, prompting them to form the Alumni Myanmar Institute of Medicine Association (AMIMA). Chu is the president of AMIMA, which strives to get past government bureaucracy and the intransigence of the ruling military junta to funnel aid where it’s needed most.
So far, says Chu, AMIMA has established connections within the country’s medical community and has gained insight into the paranoia that guides national policy in Myanmar.
“This is nothing new,” Chu says of the government’s refusal of assistance from foreign aid workers. “We expected this sort of thing, because how can you get other people in under the true intent of helping people versus some veiled intent of taking over the country?” she says. “But we started it before that because we knew that Burma is so impoverished that something is going to happen—if not a natural disaster, then an epidemic. And when you combine a natural disaster with an epidemic, it’s much worse.”
Much like in her work with individuals, Chu wasn’t satisfied with merely providing temporary relief to her people. Using donations from members and those who contributed through the group’s website, AMIMA arranged to have relief money and goods transferred into Myanmar through resident nationals, the only workers allowed into hard-hit areas like Yangon (the former capital city, also known as Rangoon), Irrawaddy and Pegu.
Many of the donations have gone toward helping rebuild huts ($100-$400 each), providing basic medical care, and supporting Buddhist monasteries that have taken in many of the children orphaned in the storm.
“There are lots of organizations, but what makes us very different is we have eyes on the ground because we’re working with physicians,” she says. “We recognize the health needs and that health is always tied to poverty. We can realize the connection and work on both ends.”
AMIMA’s work has helped reduce the possibility of an additional tragedy in the storm’s aftermath—that of disease. At 14, Chu had one of the first cases of dengue hemorrhagic fever diagnosed in her home country. Her 10-year-old sister later died from the mosquito-borne infection, which causes rapid-onset high fevers and internal hemorrhaging. It’s a moment in her life from which she still bears painful scars, and it’s obviously fueled her desire to help. “Children died by the hundreds,” she says.
Such tragedies usually prompt direct donations to hospitals. “But we feel we can do it much more legally, rather than just sending personal money,” Chu says. “To encourage people to donate and make the project stronger, you should have a tax-exempt organization.”
It’s also important to note that funneling funds and aid through AMIMA means it goes straight to doctors and internal relief organizations, rather than through the government. Because the military maintains such tight control in Myanmar, it’s unlikely that much of the aid provided from international groups has actually gotten to those who need it. It’s also likely that cash contributions would disappear into government coffers, Chu says.
As a result, some of the only help the people of Myanmar will receive is from groups like AMIMA and through the work of concerned individuals like Chu. It’s work she’s committed to continuing.
“That’s why eToims has to be extremely successful—so that we can do more,” she says. “I’m not only heading this organization, but I’m committed to my success. The more successful eToims is, the more money flows back to the organization. The money will just funnel back [to Myanmar], because I can do more things more effectively.”
To learn more about Dr. Jennifer Chu and the Alumni Myanmar Institute of Medicine Association, visit burmesedoctors.org.
Give a man a fish, and you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish, and you have fed him for a lifetime.
Mark Solomon didn’t coin the familiar proverb, but it got his attention at an early age. After catching a sizable fish and winning $5 in the fishermen’s pool, a 12-year-old Solomon made his first donation: His earnings went into an envelope addressed to the sports editor of the local paper, with a request that it be given to the Red Cross, along with money collected at a recent Little League game.
Looking back, the founder and chairman of the Wynnewood-based financial services firm CMS Companies attributes his actions to his parents, who were both actively involved with Meals on Wheels and Jewish community organizations.
“My parents delivered an extraordinary amount of meals, which they got an award for,” says Solomon. “But they never viewed it as about them. Helping wasn’t about who did it, but who you did it for.”
Solomon’s baseball skills peaked at 12, but the philanthropy bug remained. His short-lived celebrity at the plate turned out to be a home run for the many lives he’s touched over the past 58 years. Today, that philanthropic reach extends across the city and around the globe—from the Russell Byers Charter School in Center City to Sri Lanka, where he and a team of employees and business associates helped deliver supplies and build homes for tsunami survivors who’d lost relatives.
Most of Solomon’s accomplishments can be whittled down to a simple game plan: know when to act, who to call, what to ask for, and when to step out of the way and let people do their jobs.
“When I was around 26 or 27, I went on the board of the Fellowship House on Girard Avenue,” recalls Solomon. “Marcus Foster was chairman at the time. He was an African-American educator who was extremely proactive and went on to become the city’s deputy of schools. He was recruited by Oakland, Calif., to help mend their school system. He wound up being shot by the same people who kidnapped Patty Hearst. I went out to the funeral, and when I came back, I knew I wanted to carry on his efforts to help disadvantaged kids get ahead.”
At the time—in the late ’60s and early ’70s—he was in the life insurance business. “One of my clients made suits, so I asked him if I could bring over some of the students (from Simon Gratz High School, where Foster had been principal) to learn how to make suits. Then I asked another client to pitch in for a dozen scholarships. Another client owned an Evelyn Wood speed-reading school. He threw in college prep courses.”
Then in 1973, Solomon was invited to accompany a friend to Israel—a tempting offer, but one that was extended with just two days notice. “There was no way I could go,” he says.
“In 30 years, when you look back at this week, what do you think you’ll remember?” his friend asked. “What you did at the office, or your first trip to Israel?”
Solomon packed his bags.
“It’s something I never forgot,” he says. “The message was so simple: Life is a matter of sharing experiences with people you care about. Everything else is second.”
The sights and sounds of happy Jewish children—many from countries outside Israel—walking together, holding hands, singing in Hebrew and enjoying a free existence stayed with Solomon.
“It was the first time I’d seen a black Jew—he was Ethiopian,” Solomon recalls. “Discovering a place where Jews from all over the world had a place where they could live freely is something I have enormous appreciation for. I decided to make it my mission to educate people and help sustain a free Israel.”
Judaism is an integral part of Solomon’s benevolence. Tikkun Olan, one of the religion’s 613 Commandments, is a way of life for all Hebrews. Translated, it refers to a universal commitment to repairing—or healing—the world and striving for peace and social justice. In 1985, Solomon headed Operation Moses to lead Jews out of Ethiopia, and in 1991, he helped usher a million Jews out of Russia in Operation Exodus. Building on that success, he spearheaded several other trips, including one in October 2007 to assess at-risk children in Israel. It’s something he’s been interested in since becoming involved with Yemin Orde Youth Village in the early 1990s—both as a financial resource and as a member of its board.
Founded in 1953 by the British Friends of Youth Aliyah to accommodate Holocaust orphans and immigrant children during the great immigration waves of the 1950s, Yemin Orde was named in memory of British Maj. Gen. Orde Charles Wingate. “The core of Yemin Orde is that you’re here on Earth to make it a better place than you found it. It’s what I believe, and what I hope for in others,” says Solomon, who is now board chairman of Friends of Yemin Orde.
Home to 500 children from 22 countries, the residential facility includes a high school with a complete academic curric-ulum, an art and music center, a computer facility, a fully equipped carpentry shop, a central dining room, a library, and extensive sports facilities. There are also opportunities for graduate study, and Yemin Orde alums can return whenever they want. For many, it’s the only home they know.
The program is so successful that the ministry of education in Israel recently contacted the board with a request to take over as many as 14 other such villages in Israel. “Currently, we’re assimilating five,” says Solomon. “It’s a lot of work. We’re replacing staff, changing the methodology, and raising the number of kids from 40 to 150, with the ultimate goal being 250.”
Solomon is also working on establishing a Yemin Orde locally. Because costs would be so exorbitant starting from scratch, he’s taken a keen interest in Girard College, a little-known gem near the Philadelphia Art Museum. The school is searching for a new director, a process Solomon is watching closely.
Dream Camp is another program near and dear to Solomon’s heart. Co-founded by Main Line brothers Michael and Bill Rouse with Paul Raether, it started in Hartford, Conn., before coming to Philadelphia in 2002. Because it targets at-risk children—providing low-income, urban youth with year-round educational and inspirational programs—Solomon sees it as the perfect complement to his Philadelphia-based residential education program. “All it takes to make a difference in a person’s life is one person,” he says.
Fifteen years ago, when Solomon first visited Philadelphia’s Gesu School, he met a young boy named Darryl Shore. “We had a 20-minute conversation,” Solomon says. “He was very bright, but what stood out was what he wanted to be when he grew up—a SEPTA bus driver, because he wanted a pension and security.”
After assessing his living situation, Solomon made arrangements to adopt the boy. It never came to fruition legally, but Darryl did move in with Solomon and his family—which he is very much a part of now that his parents have died.
Several years later, after Darryl had graduated from college, found a good job and began to settle into adulthood, he had his own chance to make a difference in someone’s life. After years of bouncing around the foster care system since the age of 2, Darryl’s nephew landed in his 13th home. So, as his uncle, Darryl orchestrated an adoption, helped him get accepted to Morehouse College in Atlanta, and even put together a financial aid package.
Then anxiety set in about sending his nephew off to school unsupervised. Darryl didn’t want him to fail, so he pushed the administration to let his nephew live with him off campus (he was responsible for the housing costs) and put in for a job transfer to Georgia. Had it not been for Solomon, Darryl might have made a different decision.
At CMS, Solomon—along with president Paul Silberberg, chief investment officer Bill Landman and managing director Morey Goldberg—has fostered a community of caring by leading by example. “CMS isn’t just about making money; it’s about making a difference in the world,” says Solomon. “You won’t last at CMS if you don’t buy into it.”
Principals at CMS are expected to give away a graduated percentage of their income each year; the amount goes up with each $100,000 earned, beginning at 1 percent for the first $100,000 and increasing to 10 percent. Where employees give is a personal decision. The act itself is what counts. “We’re very fortunate in our lives,” says Silberberg. “We have a duty to help those who aren’t.”
Currently, Silberberg is helping to raise $150 million for an education program that will combine formal academic curricula, an Israeli experience and an overnight camp. Ten years ago, when Yemin Orde was on its way to bankruptcy, he was instrumental in a campaign that raised $74 million.
Both Goldberg and Landman also are active in the community. And all CMS employees are encouraged to participate in a Big Brother/Big Sister program with the Russell Byers Charter School in Philadelphia, along with other pursuits.
“[Solomon] is full of ideas about how to raise money and increase awareness,” says senior associate Jeff Levinsohn.
Yet Solomon is adamant that the conversation shouldn’t center around him.
“If everyone around me didn’t do what they do, I couldn’t do what I do,” he says.
CASA Youth Advocates, Inc.
P.O. Box 407, Media, PA 19063; (610) 565-2208, delcocasa.org
Dragonfly Forest, Inc.
1100 E. Hector St., Suite 333, Conshohocken, PA 19428; (610) 298-1820, dragonflyforest.org
ElderNet of Lower Merion-Narberth
Bryn Mawr Community Building, 9 S. Bryn Mawr Ave., Bryn Mawr, PA 19010-3406; (610) 525-0706, eldernetonline.org
Family Service of Chester County
310 N. Matlack St., West Chester, PA 19380; (610) 696-4900, familyservice.us
1617 John F. Kennedy Blvd., Suite 900, Philadelphia, PA 19103; (215) 568-0830, thefoodtrust.org
Francisvale Home for Smaller Animals
328 Upper Gulph Road, Radnor, PA 19087; (610) 688-1018, francisvalehome.org
Home of the Sparrow
969 E. Swedesford Road, Exton, PA 19341; (610) 647-4940, homeofthesparrow.org
Natural Lands Trust
Hildacy Farm Preserve, 1031 Palmers Mill Road, Media, PA 19063; (610) 353-5587, natlands.org
Peter’s Place: A Center for Grieving Children and Families
150 N. Radnor Chester Road, Suite F130, Radnor, PA 19087; (610) 687-5150, petersplaceonline.org
3616 S. Galloway St., Philadelphia, PA 19148; (215) 339-0900, philabundance.org
Philadelphia Ronald McDonald House
3925 Chestnut St., Philadelphia, PA 19104; (215) 387-8406, philarmh.org
Presbyterian Children’s Village Services
452 S. Roberts Road, Rosemont, PA 19010; (610) 878-2480, (610) 525-5400; pcv.org
1515 Fairmount Ave., Philadelphia, PA 19130; (215) 232-7272, projecthome.net
R.A.P. (Rescue Animal Placements)
P.O. Box 1174; Chadds Ford, PA 19317, rescueanimalplacements.com
Share Food Program, Inc.
2901 W. Hunting Park Ave., Philadelphia, PA 19129; (215) 223-2220, sharefoodprogram.org
Support Center for Child Advocates
900 Cherry St., Philadelphia, PA 19103; (215) 925-1913, advokid.org
Wellness Community of Philadelphia
Suzanne Morgan Center at Ridgeland, Chamounix Drive, West Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, PA 19131; (215) 879-7733, (888) 819-3553; twcp.org
Women’s Resource Center
113 W. Wayne Ave., Wayne, PA 19087; (610) 687-6391, womensresourcecenter.net