Day 111: Nextdoor Congratulates Elisa Steele on Governance Excellence. I Have a Governance Question.
Today I saw a Nextdoor post congratulating Elisa Steele on being named to the 2026 NACD Directorship 100 by the National Association of Corporate Directors.
My first reaction was: Congratulations.
My second reaction was: What exactly does someone have to do to make the NACD Directorship 100?
So, naturally, I looked it up.
And this is where things got interesting.
First, Credit to NACD: They Actually Show Their Work
One thing immediately stood out.
While I keep asking how Nextdoor selects its Good Neighbor Award recipients, NACD publishes substantial information about what the award represents, its criteria, and its selection process.
The 2026 Directorship 100 recognizes 100 directors and governance professionals who, according to NACD, exemplify the knowledge, leadership, and excellence it promotes. Elisa Steele is indeed listed among the 2026 director honorees.
Even better, NACD publishes a nomination guide.
Imagine that.
Criteria. In writing. Available to the public.
As someone who has repeatedly asked Nextdoor for greater transparency around its own awards and research, I appreciate being able to see how the sausage is made.
Read NACD's 2026 nomination criteria.
Then I Read the Criteria
This is where my eyebrows went up.
For directors, NACD looks for recent board-level contributions that materially strengthen governance oversight, strategy, or organizational resilience. It also evaluates governance influence, modernization, ethical leadership, judgment, and credibility.
Among the examples NACD provides are directors who demonstrate:
“courage and leadership under duress”
while doing what's best for the corporation and shareholders when facing pressures inside or outside the boardroom.
There's more.
NACD points to directors who contribute to consistent long-term profitability, pursue important business opportunities, improve shareholder returns, or navigate crises and major changes effectively.
And then there's this one:
“Valuing board and team performance over individual performance, keeping ego in check.”
Oh boy.
You knew where I was going with this.
😂
Elisa, I Think We Need to Talk About Nirav
Here's why this caught my attention.
Elisa isn't just someone on Nextdoor's board.
Nextdoor's own governance page currently identifies her as its Lead Independent Director. She also serves on the Audit and Risk Committee and chairs the Nominating, Corporate Governance and Corporate Responsibility Committee.
In other words:
Governance is quite literally part of the job.
That's why I'm having difficulty separating this recognition from the case study I've now been documenting for 111 days.
For months, I've been asking questions about Nextdoor.
I've questioned research transparency.
I've questioned communication.
I've questioned the company's Good Neighbor Award selection process.
I've questioned how Nextdoor responds to feedback.
I've questioned whether neighbors should participate economically when their information and contributions become valuable commercial assets.
I’ve repeatedly offered to have a conversation rather than keep typing about it.
Then Nextdoor CEO Nirav Tolia blocked me on X.
Again.
Let Me Be Fair About the Block
Nirav is entitled to block me.
Being CEO of a public company doesn't mean he has to follow me, answer every post I make, or spend Saturday night debating a shareholder on social media.
I also cannot tell you why he blocked me.
Only Nirav knows that.
So I'm not going to say he blocked me because he “felt pressure.” I can't know that.
I can discuss what leadership should look like when pressure, criticism, or uncomfortable questions arrive.
And, conveniently, NACD just gave me some vocabulary.
Courage under duress.
Doing what's best for the corporation and its shareholders despite pressure.
Keeping ego in check.
Those aren't my standards.
Those are examples contained in NACD's 2026 director nomination criteria.
Elisa, Here's My Challenge
Congratulations on the recognition.
Seriously.
NACD says its Directorship 100 is intended to recognize people shaping the boardroom agenda and demonstrating governance leadership. Being selected is something worth celebrating.
But recognition also creates an opportunity.
Use it.
Have a conversation with Nirav.
Not specifically because I'm special. I'm not.
And not because a CEO must personally respond to every shareholder complaint.
But because how leadership responds to uncomfortable feedback is a governance question.
If the CEO disagrees with someone, disagree.
If the criticism is wrong, explain why it's wrong.
If a question belongs with another executive, delegate it.
If information won’t be provided, say so.
If someone becomes abusive, threatening, or crosses a reasonable boundary, absolutely establish boundaries.
But when the issue is simply persistent questioning, I'd much rather see leadership demonstrate the kind of confidence that says:
Ask the question. Let's deal with it.
That's leadership I can respect even when the answer isn't the one I wanted.
Governance Isn't Just What Happens at a Board Meeting
This may be the biggest lesson I took from reading NACD's criteria.
Governance isn't simply approving minutes, sitting on committees, and attending quarterly meetings.
NACD's criteria cover oversight, resilience, emerging risks, executive compensation, CEO succession, board culture, strategic transformation, shareholder returns, and decision-making.
It even talks about directors demonstrating courage when pressures exist outside the boardroom.
That's important.
Because customers, neighbors, and shareholders aren't sitting inside the boardroom.
We're outside it.
Sometimes we're the pressure.
Sometimes we're annoying.
Sometimes we're wrong.
Sometimes we identify something worth examining.
A strong governance structure should be able to figure out which is which.
And This Is Why I Like Published Criteria
There's also a lesson here for Nextdoor's Good Neighbor Awards.
I can look at NACD's website and see what the organization says it values.
I can read its nomination criteria.
I can understand eligibility.
I want to learn about how candidates are evaluated.
NACD says candidates are vetted and scored using qualitative and quantitative criteria, escalated through senior leadership, and selected honorees ultimately go to the NACD board for final review.
That doesn't mean I know everything about every selection.
I don't.
But transparency gives me something to evaluate the process against.
That's precisely why I've asked Nextdoor to provide greater transparency around its own Good Neighbor Awards.
Don't just tell me the winners are wonderful people.
Show me the process.
NACD does.
Congratulations, Elisa. Now Comes the Fun Part.
So I'll finish where I started.
Congratulations to Elisa Steele.
Being included in the NACD Directorship 100 is a significant professional recognition.
But after reading NACD's own criteria, I don't think the appropriate shareholder response is merely applause.
It's also accountability.
NACD talks about courage.
It talks about leadership under pressure.
It talks about shareholders.
It talks about governance credibility.
It talks about keeping ego in check.
Those are excellent standards.
Let's apply them.
Elisa, have the conversation with Nirav.
Encourage a leadership culture that doesn't shy away from uncomfortable questions.
Encourage people inside Nextdoor to answer them—even when the answer is no.
Please let the CEO know that when a shareholder with too much time on his hands keeps asking questions, the block button doesn't make them disappear.
😂
Because after 111 days, I'm still here.
I'm still a shareholder.
I still want Nextdoor to succeed.
And I'm still asking questions.
Congratulations on the governance award.
Now let's see the governance.
👉 NielFlamm.com/blog
A New Scam Tactic Made Me Do a Double Take: “Walmart Order password88458”
When I thought my inbox scammers had settled into a comfortable routine of fake PayPal charges, Geek Squad subscriptions, and invitations to give away hundreds of dollars, somebody apparently decided the script needed an update.
This one actually made me do a double take.
The subject line reads:
“Walmart Order password88458”
Password?
Wait.
Did I ask for my Walmart password to be reset?
No.
And that tiny moment of uncertainty is exactly what caught my attention.
This One Feels Different
Most of the scam emails I've been receiving practically announce themselves.
YOU SPENT $499.99!
YOUR GEEK SQUAD SUBSCRIPTION RENEWED!
CALL THIS NUMBER IMMEDIATELY!
They want panic.
This one is quieter.
The email body has no real message. Instead, it has two attachments: an HTML file and what looks like an invoice.
The sender shown is:
Yet the subject references Walmart.
That's enough for me to stop.
If this is supposedly about my Walmart account, why is the message coming from a completely unrelated domain?
And why would I need to open attachments to figure out what's happening with my password?
No thanks.
The “Password” Word Almost Worked
That's what I find interesting about this one.
I saw “password” and instinctively wondered whether I'd requested a password reset.
For a moment, the message made me question my own memory.
That's potentially much more effective than another ridiculous $499.99 invoice.
People reset passwords all the time. Sometimes we forget that we requested one. Sometimes an app logs us out. Sometimes we get legitimate security alerts when someone attempts to access an account.
So seeing Walmart + Order + Password mashed together in a subject line can create just enough confusion to make someone investigate.
And investigating might mean opening one of those attachments.
That's where I stop.
Two Attachments? I'm Good.
One attachment ends in .htm.
That's an HTML file—a webpage packaged as a file.
Opening an unexpected HTML attachment can potentially take someone into a fake login or other deceptive content designed to look legitimate. I'm not opening it to find out what this particular one does.
The second attachment appears to be an invoice.
I'm not opening that one either, thank you.
If Walmart needs me to take action on my account, I don't need an attachment from solodax.com to proceed.
I can independently open the Walmart app or type the legitimate Walmart website into my browser and check my account there.
The suspicious email doesn't give me a roadmap for how to investigate it.
This Is Why I Keep Sharing These
Scams don't always look like:
“HELLO DEAR SIR, YOU HAVE WON $47 MILLION.”
Sometimes they're messy.
Sometimes they're polished.
Sometimes they use familiar company names.
And sometimes all they need is one word—like password—to make me stop and wonder:
“Wait...did I do something?”
I did the double take.
Then I looked at the sender.
Then I looked at the attachments.
And I remembered:
I didn't request a password reset.
Mystery solved.
No attachments opened.
No links clicked.
No passwords entered.
And, for once, Bill apparently had the day off.
Send Me Your Scam Attempts
I'm still documenting the different tactics that land in my inbox because seeing real examples can make the next suspicious message easier to recognize.
If you've received an unusual scam email, phishing attempt, fake invoice, suspicious password-reset message, or another creative attempt to get your information, send me a screenshot and your experience:
First, remove or cover any sensitive personal, financial, or account information.
The scammers changed tactics.
So I'll keep paying attention.
If I didn't request a password reset, I won’t open an attachment to understand why someone believes I did.
The Hinge Experiment: Four Hours, 250 Miles, Brussels Sprouts and a Mug
Well, it happened.
After all the matches that went nowhere, conversations that disappeared, unanswered messages, unmatches, an empty Hinge inbox, jokes about deleting the app, and Steve the Iguana patiently waiting for me to abandon dating altogether…
I went on an actual first date.
With Airica.
And I have some numbers.
Four hours.
About 250 miles of driving.
Brussels sprouts.
A half-and-half—which I learned is half sweet tea and half unsweetened tea. I thought Airica was getting an Arnold Palmer.
Shrimp & grits.
A ribeye, medium-well.
A walk for candy.
Some laughs.
Some transparency.
More laughs.
And…
A mug.
Yes, a mug.
And somehow, that mug feels like a significant development in The Hinge Experiment™.
My First First Date With a Parting Gift
This may have been the first first date where I left with something other than a broken heart, cash out of pocket to help someone pay her rent, or an overwhelming need to review some of my life decisions.
This time?
I left with a mug, a full belly, and a smile on my face.
Progress!
Before the Date, I Tried to Get Us on Dateline
Full transparency.
Yesterday morning, before Airica and I had ever actually met in person, I asked her if she wanted to take a drive with me to Tampa Bay to watch the Yankees play.
There were tickets available.
I didn't want to go alone.
Seemed perfectly reasonable to me.
Apparently, from the perspective of a woman who has never met this man before, getting into his car for at least seven hours is a slightly different proposition.
She was confused.
Concerned.
Cautious.
She may have considered that accepting this invitation could eventually land her on an episode of Dateline.
I get it.
Although, come on.
A bald dude with one leg, failing kidneys, and eyes that don't work particularly well?
I'd be skeptical, too.
Maybe the real concern should have been whether I'd wake up in a bathtub full of ice with a bunch of stitches and discover that the few functioning organs I have left had been harvested.
There isn't much good inventory here, Airica.
Either way, Tampa was wisely removed from the agenda.
We decided to start with lunch.
She Still Didn't Tell Me Where She Lives
I arrived at our meeting location in Columbia.
And no, at this point I apparently had not yet achieved "You May Know Where I Live" status.
Also understandable.
I did, however, get a nice hug.
I'll take it.
Then we headed into downtown Columbia.
I've been around there before because of a failed job interview.
See? Everything happens for a reason.
I didn't get the job, but years later I knew how to get downtown for a Hinge date.
Career development.
Airica picked The Grand, and it turned out to be a great choice.
The food was awesome, the place had a nice feel, and the company was fantastic.
There was only one problem.
I couldn't see a darn thing.
Nothing Says "Smooth" Like Almost Falling on Your Butt
The Grand was dimly lit.
Maybe romantically lit.
With my eyesight?
Basically a cave.
They showed us to a nice, almost circular booth.
I went to sit down.
I misjudged exactly where the seat was.
And for one brief, beautiful moment, gravity attempted to bring me as close to the floor as physically possible.
Now, over the years, I’ve wondered what makes a man appear smooth and confident on a first date.
Apparently it's almost completely missing the point.
Ladies, try to control yourselves.
Somehow, I recovered.
Physically, at least.
In my head?
I'm burnt toast.
Date over.
Thank you for playing.
Please collect your complimentary mug on the way out.
Except…
It wasn't.
Then We Just Talked
We ordered food.
Brussels sprouts.
Shrimp & grits.
A ribeye cooked medium-well.
And the mysterious half & half.
When Airica ordered it, I thought she meant an Arnold Palmer.
Nope.
Half sweet tea.
Half unsweetened tea.
I learned something new.
More importantly, we talked.
And talked.
And talked.
There really wasn't an awkward silence.
Well, except when we were actually eating, which I think is acceptable first-date behavior.
I assume.
I don't really know what people are supposed to talk about on first dates because I haven't had many of these recently.
But we figured it out.
If we're being statistically accurate, Airica probably did about 60% of the talking.
Which means I did 40%.
Yes, I know.
For anyone who knows me, that may be the most unbelievable part of this entire story.
I Got to Know Airica
I learned a lot.
I learned about what Airica wants to be when she grows up.
I learned about her passions.
I learned more about her life and why she is where she is.
And by "where she is," I mean Columbia, South Carolina.
Because obviously Columbia is the hippest place in the entire universe.
Why wouldn't someone want to be there?
The more we talked, the more things we seemed to have in common.
Of course, there are some important differences.
She's female.
She has two functioning kidneys.
She has a full head of hair.
Show-off.
But we both have bad eyesight.
CHECK!
Finally, common ground.
Then She Yawned
Airica had already had a longer-than-normal day, and eventually I caught a few yawns.
Message received.
I told her it was time to get her back.
Preferably with all of her original body parts still attached so she could report to everyone that she had survived her encounter with the one-legged Hinge guy.
But she wasn't ready to leave.
She wanted candy.
Wait. What?
The date continues?
Apparently I hadn't completely screwed this up.
The 200-Foot Second Act
We walked about 200 feet to a general store that smelled like leather and sandalwood.
We bought candy.
I went with saltwater taffy.
Airica selected an assortment of gummy concoctions.
Nothing extravagant.
Nothing complicated.
Just walking around, getting candy and continuing the conversation.
And I liked that.
Eventually, we made our way back to her car.
There was a great hug.
A kiss on the cheek.
And then I started the long drive home.
And Then My Phone Started Getting Updates
On the drive back, I heard from her.
She updated me that she hadn't taken a nap.
She asked how far away I was.
And apparently…
I may be getting a Boo Basket.
I don't know exactly where a Boo Basket ranks in the traditional progression of modern courtship, but I'm assuming it's somewhere between:
"I don't hate you"
and
"You may eventually be permitted to know where I live."
I'll take it.
I also let her know that I opened the gift she'd given me.
The mug.
And yes, Airica knows I'm writing this.
See?
I'm learning.
So… Will There Be a Second Date?
That's the question.
I heard on the TikkyTokky that a first date is basically an audition to see whether you get a second date.
If that's true, my audition included nearly falling onto the floor, misunderstanding a tea order, discussing my collection of medical problems, and making jokes about organ harvesting.
Strong performance.
But here's what I know.
I drove roughly 250 miles.
We spent about four hours together.
There was good food.
There was candy.
There were serious conversations.
There was transparency.
There were laughs.
There were more laughs.
There wasn't that uncomfortable feeling of trying to manufacture conversation.
And when I got back into my car, I was smiling.
That's enough for today.
I'm glad we met.
I'm glad she didn't take me up on Tampa for our first meeting.
I'm glad neither of us ended up on Dateline.
And I'm particularly glad that after everything I've written about dating over the past few months, I finally got to write this:
The Hinge Experiment produced an actual date.
A good one.
Now I wait.
Will there be a second?
Will I get the callback?
Will there really be a Boo Basket?
Will I eventually reach the coveted "You Can Know Where I Live" level?
I have no idea.
But for the first time in this experiment, I don't need to make a joke about an empty Hinge inbox.
I left with a mug, a full belly, and a smile on my face.
I'd say that's a pretty damn good first date.
Stay tuned.
Steve the Iguana may need to cancel his plans.
Bill Is Back—Twice: Apparently My Fake PayPal Account Had a Busy Morning
At this point, I think Bill needs an intervention.
If you've been following my continuing adventures with scam emails, you may remember Bill. Bill is the mysterious person who keeps appearing in these fake invoices and event invitations, supposedly using my PayPal account to buy things I never ordered.
Well, Bill is back.
And this time, he brought friends.
On October 1, I received two more suspicious event invitations. They arrived just one minute apart.
The first came from Ramadhan Riyanto at 9:52 a.m.
The second came from Anne Gomez at 9:53 a.m.
Apparently, scammers believe in efficiency.
First Invitation: $499.99
Ramadhan invited me to:
“Your Order confirmed: INV#445016. Amount:$499.99”
How thoughtful.
According to the invitation, Bill supposedly paid $499.99 for a subscription using my “Pay_Pal” account.
Yes, Pay_Pal.
Maybe PayPal's lesser-known cousin.
And, naturally, if I didn't recognize the purchase, there was a convenient telephone number for the “Resolution Center.”
Convenient for whom is another question.
The invitation even gave me the familiar choices:
Going. Maybe. Can't Go.
I'm going with Can't Go.
I have a scheduling conflict.
I'm busy not losing $499.99.
One Minute Later: Another Party!
Apparently, declining one imaginary purchase wasn't enough.
At 9:53 a.m.—just one minute later—Anne Gomez invited me to another event:
“Geek Squad Order confirmed: INV#445027. Amount:$399.99”
And guess who made the purchase?
BILL!
Bill allegedly spent another $399.99 using my imaginary Pay_Pal account.
So within one minute, Bill supposedly racked up $899.98 in fake charges.
Bill, buddy...
We need to talk about your spending habits.
The Similarities Are Almost Comical
Put these two messages side by side, and the pattern is hard to miss.
Different sender.
Different invoice number.
Different dollar amount.
Different supposed Resolution Center phone number.
But almost everything else follows the same formula.
Both arrived as event invitations.
Both claim Bill used my PayPal account.
Both mention an “unknown seller IP.”
Both provide a telephone number to dispute the transaction.
Both create a sense of urgency around a purchase I supposedly didn't make.
And both contain a warning right there in the email:
“This event invitation was not sent by Meta. Please be cautious when clicking on links or providing personal information.”
At this point, the warning may as well be flashing in neon.
Yesterday It Was Geek Squad. Today It's a Doubleheader.
What makes this even funnier is that these arrived right after another fake Geek Squad invitation I recently wrote about.
That one claimed Bill spent $399.99.
Now Bill supposedly spent another $499.99 and $399.99.
My fictional friend is having quite a shopping spree.
If this keeps up, I'll need to stage a fictional financial intervention.
Why Send Two So Close Together?
I obviously can't know who is behind these messages from the emails alone, and I can't say whether the two invitations were generated by the same person or operation.
But the nearly identical wording and timing are worth noticing.
That's part of why I keep documenting these messages.
One strange email might make someone stop and wonder whether there's really a problem with an account.
When several nearly identical versions appear, the formula becomes much easier to see.
The company name can change.
The amount can change.
The sender can change.
The telephone number can change.
But the basic objective appears to remain the same:
Get me worried enough to respond before I stop and think.
I'm Still Not Calling
If I received a legitimate-looking notice about a PayPal, Geek Squad, bank or credit-card transaction I didn't recognize, I wouldn't use the telephone number supplied in a suspicious email.
I'd go directly to the company's official app or website and check my account independently.
The email doesn't tell me how to verify it.
That's an important distinction.
And I'm definitely not calling a mystery “Resolution Center” because Bill supposedly went shopping again.
Going? Maybe? Can't Go?
I still love that these arrive as event invitations.
Imagine putting these on my calendar:
9:00 a.m. — Lose $399.99
10:00 p.m. — Lose another $499.99
Dress code: Business casual.
Refreshments: None.
Financial regret: Complimentary.
RSVP?
Can't Go.
Keep Sending Me Your Scam Stories
I'll keep documenting these because the more examples we see, the easier it becomes to recognize the patterns.
If you've received a suspicious invoice, fake purchase notification, Facebook event scam, PayPal impersonation, Geek Squad message, or another creative attempt to separate you from your money, send me your story and screenshots at:
Just remove or cover any sensitive personal or financial information before sending it.
As for Bill?
If anyone sees him, please tell him his Pay_Pal privileges have officially been revoked.
Godspeed, Brooke Eby: A Spirit ALS Couldn’t Take
Today I learned that Brooke Eby died after her long journey with ALS, amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. She was only 37 years old. Brooke was diagnosed in 2022 after experiencing symptoms for years, and she eventually became an extraordinary advocate for people living with ALS. People.com
I didn't know Brooke personally.
But I felt like I knew a small piece of her because she was willing to let people like me into her life.
I came across Brooke through her social media posts under the name @LimpBroozkit. By the time I started following her, she was already using a wheelchair. I started watching her short videos, then went back, catching up on the journey that brought her there.
And I kept watching.
What ALS Takes Away
ALS is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that attacks the motor neurons in the brain and spinal cord—the nerve cells that control voluntary muscles.
As those motor neurons deteriorate and die, the brain gradually loses its ability to communicate with the muscles.
The muscles weaken. They atrophy. Movement becomes increasingly difficult.
Over time, ALS can take away a person's ability to walk, use their arms and hands, speak, swallow, eat, and eventually breathe independently. There is currently no cure that stops its progression. ALS Association
One of the things that makes ALS particularly cruel is that the beginning may not look like what most of us imagine a devastating neurological disease would look like. Early symptoms can include tripping, difficulty walking, dropping things, muscle cramps or twitching, weakness in an arm or leg, or changes in speech. ALS Association
Brooke's story made that real to me.
She talked openly about the symptoms that eventually led to her diagnosis—things that, had they happened to me, I don't know that I would immediately have connected with something as serious as ALS.
Then I watched what happened afterward.
The Wedding Story I Never Forgot
One of Brooke's stories especially resonated with me.
She talked about going to a wedding while struggling with everything that was happening to her body. She had to wear sneakers. She felt self-conscious. She wanted to leave the reception early.
A friend followed her.
Instead of letting Brooke disappear from the celebration, her friend encouraged her to stay.
Eventually, Brooke's walker became part of the party. People incorporated it into a makeshift limbo line.
Something that could have represented everything she was losing became, at least for that moment, part of the fun.
I understood that story in a way I wish I didn't.
After my amputation, I became incredibly self-conscious. There was depression. There was grief. There was sadness. I realized the body I had lived in for decades had permanently changed.
And I had to figure out how I was going to live in that changed body.
That's one reason Brooke's approach stayed with me.
She wasn't pretending ALS wasn't horrible.
She wasn't pretending she wasn't losing things.
She found a way to talk about those losses with humor, vulnerability, and transparency.
Then I Watched ALS Take More
During the last month or so, I noticed the changes becoming much more apparent.
Brooke needed a lift to transfer in and out of her wheelchair.
She was beginning to set up an eye-gaze communication system.
When she told stories, the animated movements of her arms and hands that had once accompanied her words were no longer there.
ALS kept taking.
Mobility.
Independence.
Movement.
Eventually, even speaking and swallowing became increasingly difficult. TMZ
But there was something ALS never seemed able to take.
Brooke.
Her personality was still there.
Her humor was still there.
Her willingness to tell the truth was still there.
Her desire to educate people was still there.
She didn't allow ALS to define her spirit.
A Quarter as Hard
I live with my own health challenges.
They aren't ALS, and I won't pretend they're comparable.
But watching Brooke changed how I think about living inside a body that doesn't always cooperate with the plans I have for it.
I've written openly about dialysis, kidney disease, losing my leg, prosthetics, surgeries, recovery, and all the strange little indignities that come along for the ride.
Sometimes I make jokes about them.
Sometimes I'm angry.
Sometimes I'm scared.
Sometimes I'm simply tired of dealing with it all.
And that's why Brooke's example meant something to me.
She showed that humor doesn't mean something isn't serious.
Being vulnerable doesn't mean being weak.
And acknowledging what a disease has taken doesn't require surrendering everything it hasn't.
I hope that whatever comes next in my own journey, I continue to fight even a quarter as hard to keep my spirit up as Brooke did throughout hers.
She deserved more time.
She deserved a different ending.
But in the time she had, Brooke made people laugh. She educated hundreds of thousands of people about a disease many of us knew little about. She created a community for people living with ALS and helped others feel less alone. The MoCo Show
And she made people like me stop scrolling long enough to think differently about our own lives.
I never met Brooke Eby.
I'm grateful she chose to share herself with the rest of us.
Godspeed, Brooke.
ALS took your body piece by piece. It never took your spirit.