Mr. Cameron Has Something to Tell You

As we head into Thanksgiving—only eight short months away—it’s never too early to start thinking about gratitude. After all, in the fundraising world, “thank you” shouldn’t be a seasonal garnish. It should be the meat and potatoes. Or the tofu and quinoa, if your donors are that kind of crowd.

And while most people are busy planning their next Netflix binge or their next excuse not to write that appeal letter, we’re digging into the wisdom of a man who hunted lions and gave better advice than half the planned giving vendors you’ll find on LinkedIn.

William John Cameron (1879–1953) lived the kind of life that today would be optioned by Netflix and promptly ruined by a producer who insists on adding space aliens or a tragic love triangle. Let’s get one thing straight: Cameron is not just remembered for his pithy sayings. The man actually did things. Real things. Hard things. Things you can’t outsource to a freelancer on Fiverr.

He was born the son of Manitoba pioneers, one of 13 children—a statistic that, in modern terms, suggests either a deep belief in big families or a broken television. At one point, young William walked barefoot over 100 miles from Gladstone, Manitoba to Bottineau, North Dakota. Why? To work on his uncle’s farm. Today, most teenagers won’t walk 100 feet to take out the trash unless there’s Wi-Fi waiting at the curb.

But Cameron didn’t stop at being an overachieving pedestrian. He later founded a successful surgical equipment company in Chicago. That alone is enough to retire with a nice tan and a mildly inflated sense of self. But no—Cameron had bigger plans, including becoming a famed big game hunter and exploring the Kalahari Desert. Yes, the Kalahari. You know, the place with sand, snakes, and zero Starbucks.

This guy didn’t just hustle; he defined it. But despite a life bursting with entrepreneurial grit and the kind of courage that can’t be downloaded, Cameron is often remembered for his aphorisms. And while that might seem a bit like remembering Einstein for his hair, in Cameron’s case, the sayings are actually worth repeating.

Let’s talk about two of them—especially because they hit a little too close to home for anyone in the world of fundraising.

“Money never starts an idea; it is the idea that starts the money.”

Let’s take a moment to appreciate just how brutally honest this is. Cameron, in one sentence, has decapitated the excuse-making industry. We hear it all the time:

• “If only we had more budget…”

• “We need a grant before we can plan anything…”

• “Let’s wait until Q3, when resources open up…”

You don’t need a padded budget to dream. You need a functioning brain and a refusal to wait for perfect conditions. Because spoiler alert: perfect conditions are like unicorns. Or 4-hour Zoom meetings that end early. They don’t exist.

This quote is practically a direct attack on one of the worst habits in fundraising: procrastination disguised as planning.

And yet, you know who lives and dies by this philosophy? Entrepreneurs. The real ones. The ones who start in garages and end up changing industries. They begin with the idea. The budget? That comes later—once the idea is strong enough to attract money like a magnet with a Harvard degree.

So the next time you find yourself stuck in committee hell or clutching a spreadsheet like it’s a security blanket, remember: Money follows the idea. Not the other way around. No budget? No problem. Start with the good idea, and let your brilliance attract the dollars like bees to a bougie, artisanal honeycomb.

“Thanksgiving, after all, is a word of action.”

Now, this one’s sneaky. It sounds warm. Fuzzy. Like something a yoga instructor says before handing out complimentary kale. But Cameron was a man of grit, not glitter. What he’s really saying here is: gratitude is a verb.

Let’s break that down for the fundraising world.

Donors give. That’s the first action.

Nonprofits thank them. That’s supposed to be the second action.

But too often, what happens is:

1. Donor gives.

2. Nonprofit says, “Cool. Let’s add them to the email list.”

3. Donor hears nothing for six months.

4. Donor is hit up for more money before even getting a proper thank you.

That’s not thanksgiving. That’s negligence dressed up as fundraising strategy. Thanksgiving is picking up the phone. It’s a handwritten note. It’s recognition, personalization, a sense that someone on the other end actually noticed the gift came from a human being and not a line item in Salesforce.

Thanksgiving in action means the act of giving thanks becomes part of your brand. It means donors are more likely to give again because they felt something. And no, we’re not talking about the kind of empty emotional manipulation that belongs in political campaigns. We’re talking about authentic, intentional, tactical gratitude.

Gratitude isn’t some woo-woo concept from the self-help aisle. It’s a business strategy.

Why Cameron Still Matters

Let’s be honest: there are plenty of historical figures who left behind words of wisdom, but most of them never walked barefoot 100 miles or stalked lions in the Kalahari. Cameron earned the right to be heard.

More importantly, he reminds us of something fundraisers forget too often:

• You don’t need a big team.

• You don’t need a massive campaign.

• You don’t even need money to get started.

You need the idea and the action. That’s it.

And if you’re in fundraising, this is your playbook:

• Start with a great idea, not a great budget.

• Make gratitude part of your daily operations.

• Don’t wait. Don’t overthink. Just start.

Final Thought (or, the part where I pretend this is a TED Talk)

William John Cameron didn’t build a legacy by waiting around. He didn’t ask for permission or search for validation. He acted. He moved. He explored. And when he spoke, his words weren’t soft or forgettable. They had punch.

So here’s a little punch for your day:

• Stop waiting for the board to approve your genius.

• Stop letting a lack of budget dictate your momentum.

• And for heaven’s sake, thank your donors like your job depends on it—because, well, it does.

Thanksgiving is a word of action. And your next campaign? It should be too.

Because in the end, the only thing standing between your nonprofit and greatness is the same thing Cameron started with: an idea, and the guts to act on it.

Now get moving.