El Centro de la Raza honors and remembers Nancy Skinner Nordhoff
A longtime champion whose generosity and vision left a lasting mark on our community.
In 2015, Estela Ortega, Executive Director of El Centro de la Raza, received the Nancy Nordhoff Civic Leadership Award, an annual honor presented by Seattle CityClub to a regional leader who inspires civic action for the common good. The award reflects Nancy Nordhoff’s legacy of civic engagement and her commitment to empowering women and advancing sustainable community development. This recognition helped deepen a relationship that would later support transformative community investments at El Centro.
On February 1, 2019, the first day of Black History Month, El Centro de la Raza unveiled and dedicated the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. bust in Plaza Roberto Maestas, made possible through Nancy’s support. The bust, a gift from sculptor Jeff Day, stands as a lasting symbol of justice, solidarity, and collective liberation.
Nancy passed away peacefully on January 7 at the age of 93, after a life defined by deep cultural engagement, community building, and a belief in reinvention and possibility. Her philanthropy reflected an unwavering commitment to equity and to investing in people and spaces where community can gather, organize, and thrive. We are deeply grateful for her enduring support and the legacy she leaves behind.
Remembering Stephen J. Deal
El Centro de la Raza remembers Stephen J. Deal with deep gratitude and sorrow. Stephen was more than a supporter of our mission—he was a trusted partner, strategic leader, and generous donor whose vision helped shape one of our most transformative periods of growth.
As Capital Campaign Director, Stephen built the infrastructure and fundraising strategy that strengthened our long-term sustainability. He led robust capital campaigns that elevated our capacity, expanded our reach, and laid the financial foundation for lasting community impact. His leadership was instrumental in raising the resources that made Plaza Roberto Maestas a reality—creating a permanent home rooted in culture, advocacy, and opportunity for generations to come.
Long before joining our team, Stephen believed deeply in our work. He supported the organization as a donor and remained committed long after his time on staff, reflecting a lifelong investment in community-centered progress. His relationship with El Centro de la Raza was grounded in trust, shared values, and a belief that strong institutions are built through sustained partnership and collective vision.
Those who worked alongside Stephen remember his immense heart, strategic mind, and quiet determination. He approached every challenge with intention, understanding that infrastructure is not just about buildings or campaigns—it is about creating the stability communities need to thrive. Through his leadership, he helped strengthen the systems and resources that continue to support our work today.
Stephen passed away unexpectedly on January 2, 2026, at the age of 65. While his loss is deeply felt, his legacy lives on through the growth he helped spark, the campaigns he strengthened, and the community spaces he helped bring to life.
We honor Stephen J. Deal for his generosity, leadership, and enduring impact. Our organization—and the community we serve—is stronger because of his vision and unwavering commitment.
Bear on the Mountain (with Neon) by Felix Pekar
Steve—
lovingly called Bear.
If only you could see
from all the mountain tops
I climbed with Vivian—
how delighted she would be
to discover reception.
That small, glowing rectangle.
Bars rising like a quiet miracle.
A chance to call you
from the middle of nowhere.
Not to say I love you—
that was already understood—
but to show it.
To let the wilderness
briefly include you.
You were always with us.
In the weight of the packs.
In the way she conserved battery to call you if she could.
In her constant readiness
to go home.
Home meant you.
You walked every trail with us
in the lunches you packed—
food for three days
on a one-day hike.
Sandwiches wrapped with ceremonial care,
as if even the mustard
deserved respect.
This is how love practices:
by making sure no one runs out.
I met you in 2005.
Young.
Queer.
Lost in the ordinary way—
not broken,
just looking for a place to be me.
You didn’t ask questions.
You just made room.
First for me.
Then for my friends.
Then for my blood family.
You had a big body
and a big house,
but it had to be that way—
you needed space
for all that welcome.
The house was always alive—
voices, laughter,
pots simmering,
someone always arriving,
someone always staying.
Your work—
El Centro, United Way,
neighbors, friends—
was simply how your heart moved
through the world.
Building homes
was building community.
Cooking meals
was love with seasoning.
And then—Vegas.
Bright lights,
slot machines chiming like unruly bells,
carpet patterned to confuse the mind.
You loved it all.
The spectacle.
The absurdity.
The joy of it.
Enlightenment, apparently,
can also be gaudy.
You teased me
for being in a cult.
Now you have the wide view—
the one beyond effort,
beyond winning or losing.
From there you can see
Vivian loving you
and all of us loving you
at once.
No separation.
No missed calls.
No need to check reception.
Thank you,
our teacher.
Our Bear.
The one who showed us
that welcome has many forms—
mountain silence,
crowded kitchens,
and neon glowing
in the desert night.