Growing up in Minneapolis in the late 60s and early 70s, I was part of a cultural revolution aimed at desegregating public schools by bringing together children from diverse neighborhoods, races, and socioeconomic backgrounds. As a child, I saw it as an opportunity to make new friends. But some of these friends came to school without lunch, wore the same clothes every day, or would sometimes just disappear.
While I struggled to understand these situations, they left a lasting impression that wouldn’t fully hit me until 20 years later. Despite the hardships, most of us had an amazing time growing up together, and the bonds we formed remain strong today, fifty years later. Our experiences broadened our perspectives and taught us to embrace one another despite our differences.
That was my small world—accepting, but mostly unaware of the struggles faced by so many and especially our underrepresented communities. As I built my career in construction, I had the opportunity to work all over the U.S. on projects like the New York, New York Casino in Las Vegas, a movie theater at the Santa Monica Pier, Planet Hollywood in Chicago, and I even moved a small mountain to build a Target in Jeffersontown, KY.
As I traveled the country, I began to see two starkly different worlds: one of privilege and opportunity, and another facing immense hardship and challenges.
One day as fate would have it, I was awarded a project for a non-profit called the Children's Safety Center. Like any project, I jumped in, working with the team during pre-construction to make sure we used the budget wisely. As I reviewed the materials and plans, I was confronted with the harsh reality that these children were facing unimaginable horrors. Kids, through no fault of their own, were starting life with such overwhelming obstacles. It felt so unjust. Despite the limited budget, we made it happen. I called in favors from trusted subcontractors, and my friends and I donated our weekends to provide labor. We got it done. The opening day was filled with tears and joy, and I felt an incredible sense of accomplishment.
I vividly remember asking the Executive Director, Teri McLaughlin, “Is there anything else I can help with?” Little did I know, that question would lead me to spend the next decade becoming an active board member and eventually the board chair. That was the beginning of my journey—the awakening of the lessons from my childhood. It sparked me to question my beliefs and how I could serve my community. I’m just one person—privileged, some might say spoiled—but I know that with determination, I can move mountains to get things done!