I first met Lani while working as a newspaper reporter in San Luis Obispo, on California’s Central Coast. She had come to town to speak about her Holocaust oral history work at Cal Poly. Our interview — one of the best conversations I have had — stretched to over two hours on the back patio. Long after I filed that story, I thought, I want to keep in touch with her.

Lani must have been thinking the same thing. As a reporter, I had few relationships with sources, but most sources weren’t Lani. She called me from time to time just to say, “How are you? I just want you to know I’m thinking of you and hoping all is well.”

After I moved to the Bay Area and, because of economic reasons, left my job at the Contra Costa Times, I thought of Lani and wondered how she was doing. I called her and expressed interest in getting together, to which she said, “It may have to be later this year — I’m working on events to honor James Byrd Jr.” She suggested the work was all-consuming, to which I asked whether I could help her. It was my great fortune that Lani said yes.

Over a few months, she and I crafted a plan to reach media about events she was organizing in Texas and San Francisco. I enjoyed hearing her ideas and working with her, and the events went as she had hoped. At the San Francisco event, I remember watching Lani greet dozens of people with a hug and a kiss and think, What a lovely, caring woman.

Lani emanated compassion, was a patient listener and accepted people as they are. Her legacy isn’t just her work — it’s small, individual acts of kindness that, added together, lead our world toward becoming what she wanted: a better place.