A Change is Gonna Come

A Change is Gonna Come
Given that it’s now been three months since Wildwoods’ 25th Anniversary Celebration, where we announced Carol Peralta as the incoming Executive Director, I think it’s probably best for me to admit my tendency toward procrastination when it comes to these blog posts. (You can’t hear it, but in the background, my wife is laughing… rather impolitely.)

My overall sloth notwithstanding, there was something that was making me reluctant to write a “passing the torch” post. But I couldn’t figure out why. I mean, it certainly had nothing to do with any concern about Carol’s qualifications for leading the organization. After all, she’s already raising Wildwoods’ profile with her accomplishments.

At the 25th Anniversary Celebration, we also announced that Carol was the 2026 recipient of the Richard Louv Prize for Innovation in Nature Connection from the Children & Nature Network. The prize was largely based upon Carol’s work on the Rooted Resilience program, a collaboration with the La Linterna clinic at Children’s Hospital/AltaMed, which supports families who have experienced migration-related trauma with wrap-around medical, mental health, and legal services. In Rooted Resilience, Wildwoods partnered with the clinic’s mental health team on outdoor excursions that help participants use nature as a stress-reduction strategy.

As Carol expands our work deeper into the health and wellness sector, she is reconnecting with some of the founding principles with which we started Wildwoods in the aftermath of the horrific Columbine school shooting. So, that full-circle connection is satisfying.

And Carol has grown into an impressive leader. Her empathy for her team inspires fierce dedication and loyalty. Her skill at logistics and operations, along with her depth of understanding of Wildwoods’ human resources capacity, means that we have a huge impact with a lean staff.

So, if my hesitancy to write this post was based on none of those things, then what the heck was it?

And as I stared at the AI-generated image that accompanied the Google search results, it hit me.

That imaginary runner is going to run in a circle around a track and then hand off the torch to another runner who will then run in that same circle.

And that is certainly NOT what I envision for the future of Wildwoods in Carol’s stead. I don’t want to see her running in circles, always racing.

You know, back in the day we used to teach kids how to make fire using a hand-drill. Literally rubbing two sticks together. It was part of a multi-layered lesson that explored the parallels between the natural resources required for modern living and those required in the California of 300 years ago.

In that lesson, we discussed with the students what fire was used for by the indigenous people who lived here then. It was used for light, and for heat. And for cooking. And for safety.

It wasn’t being used to run in a circle.

So, as much as Carol’s real-life persona leans into the metaphor (she is an actual marathon runner, after all), I would prefer to think that Carol will use the flame in a more productive manner.

And I think I have a pretty good idea of what that’s going to look like.

I’ve now known Carol for over a decade, since she was fresh out of undergrad, responding to our Craigslist post searching for instructors. Since then, she has conducted (and in some cases, created) every program that Wildwoods offers. At this point, she probably has more institutional knowledge than I do.

And among the many admirable characteristics she possesses, the one I believe is the most admirable is her desire to be of service.

She and I have talked about the many private sector opportunities she could have easily taken with a much higher paycheck. For a brief while, at the beginning of the pandemic, Carol left Wildwoods and worked as a project manager for a construction company that was updating public housing plumbing with water-smart fixtures. But even then, she was volunteering with one of our programs that served foster care families.

The conversations we had after she rejoined Wildwoods as our Program Director revealed that the motivating factor in her decision to return was her desire to reconnect with the public. To engage firsthand with the people she was working with.

Wildwoods’ residency at the Magnolia Place Family Center has given her ample opportunities to do exactly that. We’re neighbors with a free clinic, a financial literacy nonprofit, and, until recently, a Los Angeles County suite shared by the Departments of Social Services, Children & Family Services, and Mental Health. The hallway outside our office is the de facto waiting room for all of them. The people outside our door are there because they are in pain, they are in trauma, and they are in need. Sometimes all three.

And regardless of who walked through our door, what they were looking for, or what they needed, Carol never met a stranger. She took the time to engage with compassion and respect, any soul in need. I know because I’ve watched her do exactly that during countless Zoom meetings. (You get used to it and start factoring it into the meeting schedule. A short “Carol helps” break. It’s actually good for you. You should try it.)

So, with that as her North Star – engaging people with compassion and respect – I am certain that she’ll take Wildwoods’ mission of enriching lives with nature to a new level. And bring the “healing power of nature” to more children and families in Los Angeles… and beyond.

I don’t really know what Wildwoods will be like under Carol’s leadership. What she’s going to do; what she’s going to change. What she’s going to create.

But a change is coming. And I can’t wait to see what it looks like.

P.S. If you read the first post in this transition series (It’s Only Natural), you might remember the idea of an “essential question” that my wife introduced me to.

Instead of a New Year’s resolution — which, let’s be honest, rarely survives past February — she suggested picking a question to carry with you all year. The answer, whatever it turns out to be, tells you something about yourself.

I decided that my essential question for the year was:

How do I bow out gracefully?