SIM ONE: an unforgettable true love and fundraising story
SIM ONE: A raw, unforgettable love story that redefines life, loss, and living boldly.
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Brett here:
Last Friday, Valentine's Day, Julie and I enjoyed dinner and a movie ... and then I started reading fundraising copywriter and trainer extraordinaire Tom Ahern's new book SIM ONE. (And finished it on Monday.)
SIM ONE is a heart-rending-and-mending memoir of the life, illness, death, and still more life of Tom's beloved partner-in-all-things, Simone Joyaux, a peerless fundraising legend, who suffered a brain bleed just before Covid and lived and worked valiantly until her death of a stroke in 2021.
This is not your ordinary love story.
This is not your ordinary fundraising professionals story.
This is a book you'll never forget.
It makes sense. There was and remains nothing ordinary about Tom, Simone, Tom & Simone, or their bodies of work.
So I want to tell you both why I think you should read SIM ONE — and also why it might (I hope not!) not be for you...
SIM ONE: an unforgettable true love and fundraising story
So here we were, on Friday, January 17, 2020, driving out of Boston. Singing in the car: “Thank you, Dr. Greenie.” His advice was all we needed to hear that afternoon: Live your life. Live your life hard. Simone and I heard the same, wise theme: Don’t smother your lives in worry. Live as much as you can.
You should read SIM ONE because it's likely to give you a new perspective on yourself, your loved ones, and true love in all its bold colors. That alone is priceless.
And, if you do read the book, I think you'll be highly tempted to lean deep into your bold, better, colorful self. Also priceless.
On top of that, I believe a careful reading will leave you trending towards life over death, love over fear, and we over me myself and I. For your fundraising, priceless. Because all hearts are meant to grow, and bigger hearts do more great good in the world.
Okay, but give me some details already!
Yes, of course, you got it.
Here's Tom on life and love:
Simone’s in the passenger seat, on the other side of the console.
Her fingers trace mine. We touch hands a lot.
Mostly I drive, here in America and in France, where we have a second home. She gets to gaze. BUT she’s also the DJ. She curates our CDs.
Her top choice for the last year or so: classic rock. For some reason, Meat Loaf’s 1977 anthem “Bat Out of Hell” lights her up. We boost the volume beyond polite. Open the side windows, the rooftop.
Simone shouts the lyrics. Her avowed purpose: “I want people to see me and think, Look how cool that old lady is.”
Live long enough? Your wishes will seem pathetic, too.
Then we listen to Springsteen. Then to Nobel laureate Dylan. She’s also in charge of dispensing peppermint Altoids, the “curiously strong mints.”
Sim One’s a frequent re-minter; every half hour, she offers up the fire-engine-red tin. She likes to place the mint on my tongue as I drive, so I can keep my hands at nine and three, as the feds recommend (to accommodate air bags; back in the day, it was ten and two).
As our chief vehicular-safety officer, Simone’s in charge of making sure the coast is clear.
“You’re fine,” she says, at this moment, at this intersection. “No one’s coming.” I swing out at full speed without a second glance.
Here's Tom on love and fundraising:
Simone always set the agendas. Tap, tap, tap. “Yes, my sweet…”
She’d sprawl across a couple of stairs, like a sack of sunflowers. I’d sit on the landing above her with my back against a cupboard made by a friend.
She and I would gossip. Complain. Weep. Admit. Reveal. Forgive. Plan… always plan. Simone was a zealous planner.
She was a sticky-note factory, a sticky-note proud peacock. She published daily sticky notes about her life, about my life, about us, about the world. Her office flew great distances, its wings feathered in sticky notes. Sticky notes were one of Simone’s magic wands.
Here's Tom on love in the face of death:
Then there is this episode. Something happened. I’m dismounting our despised (enduring, suffering) exercise bike. Simone flies into our bedroom, tossing herself across the made bed, despairing: “I want to be Simone Joyaux. I do not want to STOP being Simone Joyaux.”
Rewind: “I want to be Simone Joyaux. I do not want to STOP being Simone Joyaux.”
Once more: “I want to be Simone Joyaux. I do not want to STOP being Simone Joyaux.”
Honest explosions like that. Welcomed. Broadsides.
I’m in the 24/7-hug business. I feel like a convenience store with absolutely nothing on its shelves. A hug. That’s all I can give you.
And here's Tom on love after death:
Doing things will help me heal in time, I’m assured. As soon as Simone passed, other spousal survivors quickly warned me: Say yes to everything.
Translation: Don’t isolate… because I did that and it made things SO much worse.
They’re right. I sense it. I smell it. I sprawl across this sudden raft.
Mid-ocean. No compass, of course.
“Life goes on” doesn’t come with a compass.
And yet, this book is not for everyone.
In my opinion, you might not want to read this book if...
- you only like your love stories in a romantic / fairy tale / Disney / Hollywood style
- you flinch at the occasional f-bomb
- or you don't want rawness when it comes to politics, mental health, love, sex, illness, death...
Otherwise, yes, I highly recommend you read and take to heart Tom Ahern's SIM ONE: a love and then-what-happens story.
And don't forget to live your life hard! ❤️
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