For Iona Harding, the shift from finance to human resources was not simply a career move — it was a turning point that reshaped the way she understood people, leadership, and belonging.”This is what I was meant to do,” Harding said to herself when, in the late 1980s, she began working in human resources and diversity programs at AT&T.

In college, Harding majored in business education and began her professional career teaching at Somerville High School. In the early 1980s she was fortunate enough to land a systems analyst position at AT&T, just as the microprocessor was changing the face of computing and business. After a few years in finance, she shifted careers again, this time into human resources. Her CFO, Al Grorud, sent her to a five-day executive diversity program that changed her life by enabling her to see, for the first time, that she was privileged simply because of the color of her skin. This realization moved her career path away from numbers and toward people. At the same time, the corporate “personnel department” was being transformed into the “human resources department,” reflecting a recognition that people are assets to be valued and that a diverse workforce is not only the right thing to do but good for business.

Harding grew up in Mount Holly, New Jersey, a racially and economically diverse community not far from Fort Dix Army Base and McGuire Air Force Base. In the 1960s and 1970s, Fort Dix was one of the few U.S. Army bases that permitted interracial marriages — a policy that contributed to the diversity of her local high school, Rancocas Valley Regional. There it was normal to be alongside people of different ethnicities, cultures, religions, and backgrounds every day, including notable figures such as Franco Harris. Somerville, New Jersey, was a similarly diverse community, but the corporate world was altogether different — very white and very male, particularly in management.

Working in HR at AT&T and Lucent became her life’s work. After twenty-two years in industry, Harding started her own consulting practice, helping nonprofits with HR strategy, policy, recruiting, and development — always with a focus on diversity, equity, inclusion, and belonging. She also became an adjunct instructor in the MBA program at Saint Peter’s University and at Sasin Graduate Institute of Business Administration in Bangkok, Thailand.

Harding is in her sixth year as a board member at the Center for Modern Aging, where she chairs the human resources committee. In this role, she draws on her knowledge and experience to support CEO Drew A. Dyson in developing staff policies and ensuring the well-being of Center staff.

As the Center for Modern Aging Princeton continues to grow, Harding recognizes that mindfulness toward staff remains paramount. “I see nothing but opportunity,” she says. “It is a joy to work with Drew, the leadership team, and the staff at CMAP.”

“I believe the people have a right to know and art can’t be denied if there’s credibility behind it, can’t be denied of its truth.”

William “Bill” Saunders is an artist and Princetonian whose portfolio, spanning disciplines and decades, embodies his dedication to creativity and truth.

From his early days in Princeton — in one of the first integrated art classes in the town — to years spent creating art while incarcerated in New York, and now back in Princeton, where he transformed his studio apartment into a kind of living gallery, Bill carried his creative voice through every chapter of his life.

He describes his work as journalistic — whether through photography, painting, or sculpture — capturing realities that are often overlooked, but deeply felt.

 

How did you become an artist?

My mother was a domestic worker for the Goheens. Robert Goheen was the sixteenth president of Princeton University and his wife, Margaret Skelly, was throwing away boxes of art books and jazz albums. Mother brought some home and [when] I opened those books, a whole new world opened up to me.

I would mainly copy or do sketches from the works of Edgar Degas and later Rex Goreleigh, who came to Princeton around 1947.

[Rex Goreleigh started an integrated arts school called “Princeton Group Arts” one year before the Princeton Plan integrated Princeton Public Schools. Saunders was among the first students at Princeton Group Arts.]

Now, Rex and my mother, they decided that I should be part of that class. Fifteen white and fifteen Black students on Spring Street with Rex in Princeton, and we would attend regular art classes there. That was my first formal introduction to art.

 

When you opened those art books, what was the first artist or piece that had a real impact on you?

Joseph Malloy William Turner, the famous artist who did renditions of sun’s light. I saw one of these examples was called “The Slave Ship,” in which African slaves were thrown overboard from a ship that was about to sink, and the sea was very turbulent.

This had an effect on my emotion. But it was the way he depicted the sun’s light that impressed me. That’s sort of got me started, at least with painting, but it morphed into photography.

 

What was it like meeting Gordon Parks and what impact did his influence have on you?

Well, I had read a lot about Gordon, especially about his social work, the social condition, and civil rights. I was just enthralled by what he had done as a first African American along those lines.

When he expressed that he wanted to use his camera as a weapon or tool against injustice and for equal civil rights, I was just thrown overboard. I went running to Rex to tell him I wanted to go in the direction of journalism.

I told Rex and I saw tears coming down from his eyes. I didn’t understand it at the time. I thought maybe he was disappointed, you know, in me or something like that. But he just said, “Let’s go to New York.”

He didn’t tell me exactly what it was for. I thought it was to buy art supplies or something. Instead, he took me to meet Gordon.

From then on, Gordon took an interest in my direction of photography. And through Gordon, I met several peoples in the arts, in journalism. It worked out for me, I think.

 

How did you take inspiration from your mentors?

I decided to sort of emulate [Gordon’s social purpose] and to be a photographer displaying what it is to be impoverished. A lot of my art concentrates on poverty and the people that are dislocated: families and so forth.

It doesn’t mean that I want to be the savior, but it’s in the tradition of Gordon Parks, and Rex did the same thing with his paintings. I wanted to work in that area, and my guidance was right there.

 

What would you like viewers to take away from your art about poverty and separation, and these journalistic paintings?

Well, that’s a tough question. I feel, inside, compelled to take pictures and to have my art going that direction.

I think every real artist owes a commitment to society to demonstrate things that we should be conscious of in our lives, about others who are not doing so well.

I think a lot of artists do things for self-gratification, popularity or populism or trendiness, but then later they may come back around and find a need to do philanthropy through earnings or self-gratification and so on.

Well, artists like Rex and Gordon, they feel a greater need to risk their lives in that effort. So, I wish I were educated enough to explain it in more analytical terms, but this is what I do.

 

Do you feel that your time in prison strengthened that need to reflect the injustices? Or did you already have that part in you? And then it came out in these paintings?

I believe that most who work in this area want to do something. They want to change the system or fix the system, and they talk in terms of wrongful imprisonment and so on, which I feel that I’ve been a victim of. But there’s more to it than just that.

There is the underlying judicial system of injustice. And I believe, because of cost and expediency, that this judicial system itself is morally corrupt.

There are issues where prosecution and defense, they may make deals and, in my case, it was the prosecutor who wanted a certain outcome and was by any means necessary, even punishment and torture, going to make that outcome come about.

One of the problems that bothers me is that we have my brethren, journalists, who wish to get involved tangentially or on the surface and then pull away. They just don’t seem to want to go deep enough to see that what’s going on in the inside. For instance, I have rarely, or if ever, heard of the media speaking about these deals that are made with judges and prosecutors that are under the table that are illicit, immoral, and malicious.

And this is why I profoundly say it’s not about the artists, it’s about the art. Everybody has what they would say is a practical idea of what’s going on inside these circles of prison imprisonment and judicial misconduct. But it’s nowhere near what the truth is. And I believe the people have a right to know and art can’t be denied if there’s credibility behind it, can’t be denied of its truth.

[You can come see Bill’s art at CMAP’s SpringFest on May 6 at Suzanne Patterson Building. Click here or go to https://engage.cmaprinceton.org/component/events/event/1759 to register.]

 

When Home Becomes Care: Linda Madani on Design, Aging, and Dignity

The seeds of Linda Madani’s interior design career were sown early. Growing up in New Hampshire, Linda’s father was a real estate developer who repurposed spaces, such as old mills, schools and hydro stations into housing, offices and restaurants. Linda accompanied her father to his building projects and even had her own hard hat at the age of ten. She loved construction and learned how to read architectural plans at a very young age. At Simmons College in Boston, Linda majored in business and fine arts. As a college senior she interviewed an interior designer for a class assignment and, in the process, asked if she could intern for her during her winter break. The job “clicked.” After graduating from college, Linda was offered a fulltime position as in interior design assistant. A few years later she went back to school to receive her interior design degree.

Something also clicked when Linda, now the owner of Madani Interiors, took on a renovation assignment at a neurosurgeon’s office. The doctor shared that most of his mature/senior patients had brain injuries from falls, particularly in the bathroom. As a result, Linda realized that a whole demographic was underserved by her field. It became her mission to help those in the third stage of their lives to live more safely, comfortably, and peacefully in their homes.

Linda began by developing ways to make bathrooms safer, such as providing low, amber lighting for nighttime bathroom visits and towel bars that also served as grab bars. As she developed an expertise in safe aging, she understood that the topic needed to be approachable and sensitively handled. She created a website as well as material for presentations. One of the places where she spoke was at the Center for Modern Aging in Princeton.

As Linda’s business grew, it diversified. She has worked with people who wanted to fully renovate their home or their business setting, those who just wanted to “touch up” their home, those who were ready to down-size, and those who were just beginning to think about finding a new way of living and needed help knowing where and how to start. Working in people’s personal spaces, negotiating lifestyle changes with clients, and suggesting ideas required empathy, respectful listening, observing, communicating, and good old-fashioned people skills.

In June 2023, Linda’s father was told he had three days to live. Happily, her father’s prognosis proved incorrect; bringing her design and organizational talents to bear, in just two months’ time Linda relocated her parents from North Carolina to New Jersey, into a safe, welcoming, fully ADA compliant home whose renovation she herself oversaw.

Linda felt it was a gift and an honor to help her parents through their transitional experience, and it only strengthened her resolve to help others maneuver through the aging adventure. She advises those with whom she works that being proactive and preventative about their living environment as they age provides more control over and enjoyment of ones’ home life. She helps people realize what they value most and helps them create a safe, peaceful home environment that enables them to thrive and grow. That might involve purging things they don’t need, organizing and refreshing various living spaces, or finding a new home with fewer maintenance and upkeep demands. Lucky for those who work with Linda, her empathy, energy, and insight help make change happen.

The Center for Modern Aging at Princeton is one of the recipients of Linda’s talents. Through her service as a civic co-leader in the Stoney Brook Garden Club, Linda and her fellow Club members made twenty creative holiday wreaths to decorate the CMAP Christmas luncheon venue. The wreaths were given away after the luncheon to members of the CMAP community. The holiday wreaths are a tradition between Stoney Brook Garden Club and CMAP. As part of her continuing engagement with the Center, Linda will be interviewed by Conrad Strauch on the People & Peace Talk Show airing on January 28, 2026 from 5:00-6:00 p.m. Go to https://engage.cmaprinceton.org/component/events/event/1570 to register. You can also call 609.751.9699 with questions, or email info@cmaprinceton.org.

Nancy Becker: Building Community, Changing Systems, and Leading with Heart
How a young woman from the Bronx became New Jersey’s trailblazing advocate for ethics, women’s leadership, and community impact

Nancy Becker has spent decades shaping New Jersey’s civic and political life with quiet determination and unwavering ethics. Today, she brings that same steady vision to her role on CMAP’s board. We sat down with Nancy for an Open Doors conversation about the moments that defined her, the values she returns to, and the legacy she hopes to leave behind.

Where did you grow up, and what shaped those early years?
I grew up in New York City and attended the Bronx High School of Science, one of the most respected public high schools in the country. My father passed away when I was young, which left a significant emotional and practical gap in my life. But I also remember him as someone who never restricted us. He believed deeply that I could do anything I wanted, and that sense of permission stayed with me.

I was also very close to my younger sister, who went on to build a long and fulfilling career in physical therapy. After high school, I attended the University of Michigan, where I majored in English literature, and later earned a master’s degree in English language and literature from Manhattan College.

Were there role models who influenced your journey?
My father’s belief in me was foundational. Eleanor Roosevelt was another important influence, one of the few visible female leaders at the time. Her courage and advocacy for women helped me see the world differently. But in many ways, because there were so few female leaders to look toward, I had to teach myself how to become the kind of woman I hoped to meet: principled, effective, and unafraid to lead.

What setbacks shaped who you are today?
After completing my master’s degree, I moved to Princeton and hoped to pursue a PhD in English literature at Rutgers. In my interview, I explained that I could work only part-time while caring for my young children, and I wasn’t accepted. That rejection left me unsure of what to do next. I didn’t know Princeton well, and I didn’t yet have a community.

So I looked outward and began volunteering with a nonprofit, Common Cause. Several years later, I became its executive director. That role reoriented my path—it introduced me to policy, advocacy, and community impact.

Eventually, I left to start my own lobbying firm, becoming the first woman in New Jersey to found and run her own lobbying business. It wasn’t easy at first, but the work grew, gained attention, and ultimately sustained me for thirty years.

What personal accomplishments matter most to you?
I was married to my husband for forty-eight years, and raising our two children is one of my greatest joys. At a time when few women held corporate or political roles, he encouraged me to pursue them—and he meant it.

I’m proud of the inspiration my career gave my children and grandchildren. I’m also proud that my firm employed mostly women, offering opportunities that were still rare when I started.

What core values guided your work?
Ethics. Always ethics.

Whether in nonprofit leadership or running my own firm, I needed clients whose values aligned with mine. The moral culture of my businesses mattered just as much as the professional work we produced. Ethics is not just a professional standard; it is a way of living.

What do you hope your children and grandchildren remember about you?
I hope they remember me as someone accomplished but also loving, present, and supportive. I’ve built close relationships with my grandchildren individually, not just through their parents, and I treasure that. I want them to know that they can always come to me. Trust has always been essential to me, and I hope they carry that forward.

How has serving on CMAP’s Executive Committee shaped your view of aging and community?
I’ve served on the Executive Committee for two years, leading the Strategic Planning Taskforce. This work is essential—not just planning programs but imagining the future of aging in Princeton.

CMAP’s growth since the pandemic has been remarkable. Hybrid programming has expanded access and reduced isolation for people who might otherwise be alone. That, to me, is transformative.

I have also been proud of CMAP’s commitment to diversity. Through strategic planning, we’ve worked to build more inclusive participation, including expanded programming for Latinx and Asian community members and more outreach across economic and cultural backgrounds. Understanding the challenges of aging—from dementia to social isolation—helps us shape education and engagement for the whole community.

What life lessons have stayed with you?
Patience—not the passive kind, but the kind that trusts the long arc of effort.

I didn’t expect to achieve everything quickly. I believed that if I worked with integrity and surrounded myself with people who shared those values, things would unfold as they should.

Mentorship has also been central to my life. Because I grew up without much mentorship myself, I recognized how crucial it was. I created a yearlong mentorship program during Governor Christine Whitman’s administration to train women for leadership roles in government. Many of those women went on to become judges and public officials.

Later, at Rutgers’ Eagleton Institute of Politics, I created a lobbying-focused mentorship program specifically for women, including a handbook I wrote to teach effective advocacy.

If you could give advice to your younger self, what would it be?
Part of me wonders what would have happened if I had gone to law school. But the truth is, my life moved quickly after college—marriage, young children, shifting opportunities—and everything eventually came together in a way that felt right.

So the advice I’d give myself is this:
Trust the process. Keep your ethics. Take the long view.
And be patient. The life you’re building is worth the wait.

Lori Efaw: How Care, Community, and Conversation Shaped Her Path at CMAP

When you meet Lori, you first notice the ease with which she moves through the Suzanne Patterson kitchen—placing trays, greeting participants, exchanging small jokes with the regulars. To most, she’s the warm smile behind the counter. But behind that smile is a story of early responsibility, long pauses, and the quiet strength of someone who learned to rebuild her life one shift, one connection, one good meal at a time.

Below is her story, in her own words.

Where did you grow up, Lori? What do you remember most about your early years?

I grew up in the Chambersburg neighborhood of South Trenton. I was always outside—riding my bike, finding things to do with friends, keeping myself busy and active. After middle school, my family moved to Hamilton, and I spent four years at Hamilton West High School. Those years were really fun for me. It’s also where I met my husband.

Right after graduating, I moved into a house with him and three of my closest friends. It was crowded, but it was a good kind of crowded—full of energy and laughter. At twenty, I had my first child. Becoming a mother that young changed everything. It taught me how to work hard, because suddenly it wasn’t just about me.

I had worked at Dunkin’ Donuts through high school, and afterward I bounced between being a manager at Wawa and waitressing at different restaurants—all while raising my son. It was a lot, but you do what you have to do.

You took on major responsibilities early. What challenges shaped you most?

Balancing work and motherhood at a young age was really tough. By the time I was twenty-six, I had my second child, and that made me step away from working for a while.

When my older son graduated high school, I decided to pause work for about ten years to be home with my younger son while my husband worked. It was a long stretch of caretaking, but it felt right at the time.

Then COVID hit.

I had just decided I was ready to go back to work, and suddenly every opportunity disappeared. Quarantine made everything more uncertain — not just jobs, but routines, connections, even confidence.

Eventually I learned that my mother-in-law worked for Mercer County Nutrition. She helped me get connected to the East Windsor kitchen, where we were delivering meals because no one could come inside. When the Princeton site reopened in 2022, I moved here.

Getting back to work after COVID and after years at home wasn’t easy. But as my kids became more independent, I knew it was time for me to step into something new again.

How has working behind the scenes at the Nutrition Program been different from your other jobs?

Being here has been fabulous.

This job is different because of the people. The participants bring so much warmth and personality. I get to greet them, hear their stories, catch up about their week — and that just didn’t exist in my previous jobs.

Starting my day with that positive energy makes all the difference.

I also think a lot about what this place gives the participants. Loneliness can really affect people, and here they get to enjoy good food and good company. It matters.

How do you feel about the diversity you see at Suzanne Patterson?

It’s one of my favorite parts of working here.

Every week I meet people from so many different backgrounds. It makes the building feel welcoming and alive. I love seeing conversations happen between people who might never have crossed paths otherwise.

And honestly, I think it’s only going to grow. I hope I get to keep seeing it firsthand.

If you could give your younger self advice, what would you tell her?

I’d tell her not to be so closed off.

Most of my life, especially when I was younger, I kept to myself. But working all kinds of jobs — waitressing, managing, customer service — forced me to talk to people. And that’s what changed me.

Communication taught me confidence. It taught me how to connect with people. And now, connecting with others is one of the parts of life I enjoy most.

Barbara Skinn: Finding Purpose, Poetry, and Belonging at CMAP

When you meet Barbara Skinn at the Center for Modern Aging Princeton, she greets you with a gentle warmth that can make even a cloudy morning brighter. Once a week, Barbara volunteers at the front desk, welcoming everyone who walks through CMAP’s doors with patience and grace.

Behind that serene smile lies a story of perseverance, curiosity, and quiet transformation — the journey of a woman who once called herself shy and who now helps others find connection and confidence through community.

Where did you grow up, and what was your childhood like?

I grew up in Wingham, Ontario, a very small town — only about three thousand people. I was one of eleven children: eight brothers and two sisters. You learn a lot growing up in a big family. You learn how to listen, how to share, and how to find your place in the noise.

My father was one of the people who shaped me the most. He was kind, steady, and respectful — the sort of person everyone trusted. He never needed to raise his voice to be heard. I think that’s where I learned that quiet strength can sometimes speak louder than anything else.

You’ve had an incredible academic and professional journey. How did it all begin?

From early on, I knew I wanted to go to university, but my family couldn’t afford it. That was hard — watching my dream feel so far away. But I also knew I had to try. So I studied harder than ever and earned a scholarship to the University of Western Ontario, where I completed my degree in nursing.

Nursing became my way to understand people — to be close to others when they were at their most vulnerable. Later, I earned my master’s degree at the University of British Columbia and eventually my Ph.D. in nursing at the University of Cincinnati.

Leaving home also opened me to the world. My hometown wasn’t very diverse, so being surrounded by people from different cultures changed how I saw everything. Nursing gave me a way to connect, to listen, to learn. I realized that every patient, every colleague, every stranger holds a story worth hearing.

You mentioned once that you were a shy person. How did that shape your life?

Yes, I was. I was very shy — the kind of person who preferred to stay quiet and listen. Home was where I felt safest, and for a long time, I didn’t think I had much to say. But once I left, I began to discover who I was.

Being shy taught me empathy. It made me observant. I learned that you can understand a lot about people by simply paying attention — their tone, their gestures, what they don’t say. I think that’s part of what made me a better nurse, a better listener, and maybe a better friend, too.

How did you become involved with CMAP, and what does it mean to you now?

CMAP has become like a second home for me. I’ve been part of this community for several years now — volunteering, learning, and connecting.

I joined Wonders of Wordplay, a creative writing workshop. I remember being hesitant at first, unsure if I had anything to say. But as I started to write and share, I realized that poetry wasn’t about perfection — it was about truth. It gave me another way to express myself.

Now, at the front desk, I get to greet people — each person with their own rhythm, their own story. Sometimes all someone needs is a smile or a familiar hello. That connection, no matter how small, can make a day feel different.

What lessons have stayed with you the most?

Integrity. Always that. Staying true to yourself, even when no one is watching.

I’ve learned that boundaries aren’t walls; they’re ways of protecting your peace so you can keep giving to others with an open heart.

If I could talk to my younger self, I’d tell her not to be afraid of her own voice. To speak up. To trust that being gentle doesn’t mean being small.

And what advice would you share with others?

Be curious. Be kind. Be yourself. Don’t rush through life trying to be someone else’s version of you.

And remember — joy isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s found in small, ordinary moments: a poem shared, a smile at the door, a new friend who feels like home.

Photo: Barbara with her daughter, sharing a moment of laughter and warmth. A reminder that care, love, and learning never stop. Courtesy of Barbara Skinn.