Small, Personal, Human — and Effective
Founder’s Reflections
Machiko no Ishi was never meant to become a large organization.
From the beginning, I knew that if I created a charity in memory of my wife, Machiko, it needed to remain something personal. Something human. Something that focused on kindness rather than scale.
My name is Tom McLaughlin, and I founded Machiko no Ishi — also known as Machiko’s Legacy — as a small memorial charity inspired by Machiko’s life, her compassion, and her love of animals. From time to time, I will write here about the work we are doing and the ideas that guide this effort.
When I first mentioned the idea of starting a nonprofit, someone asked a very practical question:
Did I want the charity to grow into a national organization?
For me, the answer was easy.
Machiko’s Legacy was always intended to remain small and focused. Our mission prioritizes comfort for patients in hospice or facing life-limiting illness, particularly within the Asian community and especially among those of Japanese ancestry. That focus naturally keeps our work personal and local.
But there is another reason we remain intentionally small.
We want to stay connected to the people we serve.
We interact personally with the caregivers, hospice professionals, and families who request our plush companions. Each request represents a real person going through a difficult time. Remaining small allows us to treat every request with the care and attention it deserves.
We also made an early commitment to simplicity and transparency. Machiko no Ishi has no salaries, no wages, no benefits, and no perks for volunteers or directors. Donations go directly toward providing more plush companions to patients who may find comfort in them.
Above my computer monitor hangs a small quote that reminds me why this work matters:
Most of the good in the world
Is not audited by applause
It is just done.
That thought guides much of what we do.
For example, every plush companion we send includes a handwritten note of hope. Taking the time to sit with pen and paper changes the moment. It focuses the mind not on logistics or administration, but on the person who will receive that small gesture of kindness.
People sometimes ask what success will look like for Machiko no Ishi.
In truth, I already know the answer.
Success happened the moment we delivered our very first plush companion to a patient in need. I will never know that person’s name or their story, but I do know that a small act of comfort was given in Machiko’s memory.
That is enough.
And with the support of friends, caregivers, and donors who share this belief in simple kindness, we hope to continue providing comfort — one plush Maltese at a time.
Warmly,
Tom
