My Story

My life and work have been shaped by a simple but demanding question: What does it mean to live responsibly in a complex and unequal world?

I grew up in Hershey, Pennsylvania, in a community where work, responsibility, and contribution were taken seriously. As kids, we went to Hershey Park, the Hershey public pool, the Hershey Community Center, and the Hershey Rose Gardens. We were constantly reminded of the remarkable legacy of Milton S. Hershey, founder of the chocolate company, including the Milton Hershey School for disadvantaged children.

When I was nine years old, the second of five children, our family welcomed into our home a Vietnamese brother and sister who were refugees from the war. They were twenty and twenty-three years old. This experience, along with others my young parents made possible, helped my siblings and me recognize that we lived in a kind of bubble. Many people, both near and far, lived lives far more difficult than ours.

That sense of stability began to unravel as my parents’ marriage deteriorated. I was fifteen when they eventually divorced, and by then I was spending time with a peer group that took risks with drugs and alcohol. I was fortunate to make it through those years alive and not in a juvenile delinquency home. I was also fortunate to be white and to have a father who served on the school board and was well known in the community.

I grew up in the church and experienced the depth of faith in a loving God. Along with the influence of some wonderful people in my life, the beliefs and principles of my upbringing provided the guardrails I needed to find my way back. When I was eighteen, I heard Tony Campolo speak for the first time. His ability to connect Jesus’ message to everyday life, including his willingness to call out the hypocrisy he saw in much of American Christianity, resonated deeply with me.

I attended Eastern College, where Tony taught for one semester. I loved his sociology class in particular. Still, I eventually left, disillusioned by the prospect of taking on significant debt to pursue international development, a field that would likely require compromising my convictions by joining a large organization simply to earn enough to repay student loans.

I chose another path and entered business and sales. Financially, things improved quickly. I paid off debt, bought a house, and enjoyed a comfortable life. For a time, I imagined becoming financially independent and, fifteen or twenty years later, devoting myself fully to helping people in developing countries rise out of poverty. Yet with each passing year, I felt life being slowly drained from me by work I experienced as increasingly meaningless.

At twenty-seven, I resigned from my position as a District Sales Manager with Panasonic and moved to Haiti with Tony Campolo’s organization. I loved his philosophy about learning the language and culture where you serve, and accompanying and supporting local initiatives of education and entrepreneurship that helped people rise out of poverty. I initially made a two-year commitment.

Those two years became decades. Haiti has been my most demanding teacher. Working alongside educators, community leaders, and families who strive to build opportunities under extraordinarily difficult conditions has challenged my assumptions, deepened my humility, and sharpened my understanding of dignity, power, and solidarity.

Much of my work has focused on creating conditions for meaningful engagement, especially in environments marked by hierarchy, inequality, or deep division. I’ve been contracted on multiple occasions by the World Bank, USAID, and others to help design and facilitate large-scale Open Space meetings in Washington, D.C., Mozambique, and Haiti, among other places. These gatherings are not about control or persuasion, but about trust, shared responsibility, and the belief that people closest to the work often hold the wisdom needed to move forward.

Along the way, I’ve become a strong advocate for democratic practices in organizations and freedom-centered leadership. In recognition of this work, I received the Lifetime Achievement Award from WorldBlu, an honor that reflects not individual accomplishment, but a long-standing commitment to fostering workplaces where people are trusted, voices matter, and power is exercised with care.

In 2003, I met the extraordinary Merline, and we married in 2004. Her influence on my life has been profound. Together with our community in Haiti, we established a school in 2012 for twenty-five three- and four-year-old children. Today, the Children’s Academy and Learning Center serves more than 500 students and places special emphasis on strengthening families through various educational programs, including positive discipline and children’s rights, as well as rethinking family power dynamics to end gender-based violence. Those original students are now in 11th grade. We will add 12th grade next year and Haiti’s 13th grade the following year, realizing the vision of an exceptional PreK–13 institution grounded in a school-based community development model. For more information, visit haitipartners.org.

Merline’s and my shared journey has also included building and running a guesthouse in Haiti for seven years that welcomed thousands of guests; launching several social enterprises, including Merline’s, specializing in hot sauce and other Caribbean and Haitian foods; and hosting an Airbnb connected to our home in Delray Beach, Florida.

Across all of these experiences, one conviction has only grown stronger: leadership is not about authority or certainty, but about responsibility, listening, and the courage to act in alignment with our values. Today, my work continues through nonprofit leadership, writing, and ongoing preparation to serve as a life coach. I’m especially drawn to facilitating conversations that invite people to reflect on purpose, legacy, and how they want to live while they have the chance.

I don’t claim to have tidy answers. I remain a learner. What I do bring is lived experience, a deep respect for human dignity, and a commitment to lean in rather than stand apart. In a time marked by climate strain, technological acceleration, and social fragmentation, I believe this is not a moment for spectators. It is a moment to show up, to listen, and to choose responsibility over indifference.