Last June, the Emporia State Alumni Association agreed to a partnership with Liberty Mutual, an insurance company based in Springfield, Mass., to exchange alumni mailing addresses for a portion of the profit Liberty Mutual makes from alumni using their insurance programs.
According to Judith Heasley, executive director of university advancement and the ESU foundation, the ESU Alumni Association provides the mailing addresses of alumni who have agreed to be contacted about these partnerships and special offers.
“(Liberty Mutual) sends a letter out to alumni on the Alumni Association’s behalf, who have agreed to be contacted… If (alumni) decide to use Liberty Mutual, we get back a source of revenue for the Alumni Association,” Heasley said.
Heasley said the exact amount that the Alumni Association will receive in revenue from Liberty Mutual has not yet been determined because promotion to alumni started in January.
Heasley addressed the accusation that the Alumni Association is selling Alumni names through these partnerships.
“We do not sell our alumni lists, we have conflict of interest and donor confidentiality policies here in the Alumni Foundation and Alumni Association,” she said. “We never sell our lists, ever. If (an alumni) doesn’t want to receive something, they can let us know, and they will be put on a ‘do not contact’ list in our database.”
Though Heasley is unsure at this point how much money the affinity partnership with Liberty Mutual will produce, she stated she was excited about the contract, and hopes more affinity partnerships will become available in the future.
This “affinity partnership,” according to Heasley, is aimed at providing benefits for ESU Alumni, as well as generating more funds for the ESU Alumni Association.
Some students thought targeted benefits after graduation were a good idea.
“We spend so much money here that it is good to know they offer something for us after college,” said Lacey Bishop, freshman psychology major.
Heasley explained the nature of the relationship between ESU and partners like Liberty Mutual.
“Affinity partners are partners that we (partner with to) offer as many services that we can give to our alumni,” Heasley said.
The Alumni Association sends emails to alumni to promote these affinity partnerships.
According to a Liberty Mutual Brochure, 650 institutions nationwide have some type of partnership with Liberty Mutual. As stated on Alumni Association Web sites for Regent institutions, Kansas University, Kansas State University, ESU, Fort Hays State University and Pittsburgh State University have affinity partnerships with Liberty Mutual.
“These affinity partnerships are very normal in higher education,” Heasley said.
Because the ESU Alumni Association does not charge annual dues for members, Heasley said that other sources of income become essential to the association because of increasing statewide budget cuts.
“We all know what’s happening with state funds—they’re being cut. So in order to operate the association, we do need to have some partners and do need to be bringing in money,” Heasley said. “The Liberty Mutual contract is great… and it’s a nice discount (for alumni).”
Heasley did not give an exact amount for discounts that alumni receive.
Through Liberty Mutual, ESU alumni are offered car, life, short-term medical and renter’s insurance at discounted prices. According to the Alumni Association Web site, other affinity partnerships with ESU include GoNext, a company offering travel opportunities, the Emporia State Federal Credit Union and a partnership with the Kansas Department of Motor Vehicles, which offers Emporia State themed license plates to alumni and friends of the university.
Santa hits a glitch on the night before Christmas see here beard trimmer
The Record (Bergen County, NJ) January 4, 2009 | BILL ERVOLINO BILL ERVOLINO The Record (Bergen County, NJ) 01-04-2009 Santa hits a glitch on the night before Christmas BILL ERVOLINO Date: 01-04-2009, Sunday Section: BETTER LIVING Edtion: All Editions Christmas Eve went swimmingly. Roughly translated: If it swam, we ate it.
For the most part, our tradition-drenched evening stuck closely to the Ervolino playbook: the hugging, the kissing, the fish, the gifts, the yelling, the screaming, and then, at around 10 p.m., the Santa suit preferably with someone in it.
Every year Santas pivotal arrival in a hail of jingle bells and ho-ho-hos is followed by some manic picture-taking with Santa, dessert (after Santa leaves), more yelling and screaming across the table, the orderly distribution of leftovers and then, finally, the mass exodus to the driveway for one final round of hugging, kissing, yelling and screaming.
For the last seven years, my cousin Caroline has shown up at my brothers house with the expensive red-and-white Santa suit cleverly disguised in the cheap black trash bag and proceeded to grill the usual suspects, while my mother, aunt and sister-in-law were busy in the kitchen grilling 40 pounds of flounder.
The usual suspects, of course, are the males of the family, and Caroline refuses to rest until she gets her man.
“So, Uncle Emilio,” she whispers, “how would you like to be Santa this year?” “GET LOST!” “Tony, how would you like to …” “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” “Billy, I dont suppose youd like to …” “NO! NO! NO!” The only real criterion for this job is saying yes, since none of us actually looks the part. No eyes all a-twinkle. Or dimples so merry. Or cheeks red as roses. Or noses like cherries.
Granted, we all have that round belly/bowl-full-of-jelly part down to a science. But is that enough?
My gut tells me it isnt.
Of course, this little masquerade is for the kids in attendance: my niece Talia; my cousin Tonys kids, Anthony and Sara; and Carolines son, Dominick.
Of that group, only Dominick now in nursery school still falls for it. The rest of them carefully study who is and isnt in the room when Santa arrives and then crack the case wide open like Angela Lansbury.
As you may know, some kids are frightened of all Santas. They send him letters, leave him cookies and milk, stare out the window waiting for him to arrive. Then, he finally prances down the stairs or sneaks in through the back door and its “Nightmare on Elm Street.” Happily, Dominick is not one of those children. All night long he asked his mother when Santa was coming and this only intensified her recruiting efforts.
My father, of course, was out of the running since he is now older than the real Santa Claus.
Having kids jump on and off your lap for half an hour is exhausting enough when youre 32. When youre 82, its a recipe for disaster not to mention hip replacement.
To date, I, my brother and assorted cousins have all taken on the role. A couple of years ago, we even persuaded my cousin Louises son Harry who was spending his FIRST Christmas Eve with us to don the suit, although he did so under protest.
“Im Jewish!” he insisted.
“Oh, so what?” I said, shoving him and the big black trash bag into my brothers bedroom. “You wear a nice tailored suit, you cover your head and you put on a beard. Whats more Jewish than that?” “Yeah … but … what do I do?” “Just ho-ho-ho a lot and give them their presents,” I explained. “Have fun! Have a good time! Hava nagila!” We had no Harry to kick around this year. And after everyone else said no twice, Caroline who was becoming increasingly desperate suddenly fixated on my beard. The last time she had seen me, a couple of weeks earlier, I was clean-shaven. Then I grew it all back. And I have to admit, it looked pretty good by Christmas Eve: thick, neatly trimmed and dark brown, thanks to some pricey hot oil conditioner, my trusty electric beard trimmer and two tubes of Just for Men. beardtrimmernow.com beard trimmer
“Weve never had anyone play Santa with a REAL beard,” Caroline said, nudging me. “Could you make it white?” “You must be kidding,” I replied. “It took me two hours to make it brown.” Then, at 8 p.m., divine intervention: Carolines boyfriend Russ called from his sickbed to say he was feeling a little better.
“Is it too late for me to come over?” “OF COURSE NOT!” Caroline shrieked.
Russ arrived about half an hour later. And he not only agreed to play Santa, but he actually looked the part.
“Hes perfect!” I whispered to Caroline. “Eyes twinkling! Nose like a cherry!” “Thats the antibiotics,” she explained.
Oh, well.
Any Claus in a storm.
***
BILL ERVOLINO