I was born in Houston, Texas, in 1957.
And let me tell you something.
I’ve had one hell of a ride!
I’m 69 years old now, and when I look back over my life, I realize I’ve had a front-row seat to some of the most extraordinary events in American history.
I’ve witnessed segregation, the civil rights movement, the Vietnam War, the space race, the computer revolution, and now artificial intelligence.
And through all of it, I’ve learned one very important lesson.
Ordinary people can do extraordinary things.
Let me tell you what I mean.
I was born in Houston in 1957.
That was Jim Crow America.
Segregation was the law across much of the South.
Black Americans couldn’t eat in the same restaurants, attend the same schools, or enjoy the same opportunities as white Americans.
Think about that.
That wasn’t ancient history.
That was my lifetime!
Two years later, my family moved to Connecticut.
And I grew up during one of the most turbulent periods in American history.
The 1960s.
The Vietnam War.
Civil rights marches.
Protests.
Demonstrations.
People were questioning everything.
And as a young boy, I got caught up in that energy.
I remember going to demonstrations against the Vietnam War.
People gathering together, carrying signs, singing songs, demanding change.
And here’s what fascinated me.
These weren’t generals.
They weren’t senators.
They weren’t presidents.
They were ordinary Americans.
Students.
Teachers.
Mothers.
Fathers.
Young people.
Millions of people who decided they weren’t going to sit quietly while their government continued a war they believed was wrong.
And over time, that movement grew.
And grew.
And grew.
Until millions of Americans were demanding an end to the war.
Now, the war didn’t end overnight. And the protests weren’t the only reason it ended.
But those ordinary Americans helped change public opinion and put enormous pressure on the people running this country.
They proved that when enough people stand together, the people in power have to pay attention.
That’s lesson number one.
Now, fast-forward to 1969.
My family moved back to Houston.
And we moved into a neighborhood right across from NASA.
Now, you have to understand what Houston was like in 1969.
The space program was everything!
Everybody in our neighborhood seemed to have some connection to NASA.
Engineers.
Scientists.
Technicians.
Contractors.
People who worked with astronauts.
And yes, astronauts themselves.
It was an extraordinary place to be a 12-year-old boy.
Because that summer, something happened that changed the world.
We put a man on the moon!
Think about that for a second.
In 1903, the Wright brothers flew an airplane for 12 seconds.
Sixty-six years later, human beings were walking on the moon!
Holy shit!
That’s extraordinary!
And here’s what I remember.
It wasn’t just Neil Armstrong.
It wasn’t just Buzz Aldrin.
It wasn’t just the astronauts.
It was hundreds of thousands of people working together.
Engineers.
Mathematicians.
Mechanics.
Secretaries.
Electricians.
Machinists.
People building parts.
People checking calculations.
People doing thousands of little jobs that had to be done exactly right.
Most of their names will never appear in a history book.
But every single one of them contributed to something that had never been done before.
They put human beings on the moon.
And brought them home safely.
Ordinary people working together accomplished the extraordinary.
That’s lesson number two.
Now, fast-forward again.
Eventually, I moved to Greensboro, North Carolina.
And I settled in.
Raised a family.
Built a career.
Made this city my home.
And as I learned more about Greensboro, I discovered something remarkable about its history.
On February 1, 1960, four young Black men attending North Carolina A&T State University decided they were going to do something.
They were going to have lunch.
That’s it.
Lunch!
Now, that doesn’t sound particularly revolutionary, does it?
Four college students wanting a sandwich and a cup of coffee.
But in 1960, those four young men weren’t allowed to sit at the whites-only lunch counter at Woolworth’s.
So they sat down anyway.
Ezell Blair Jr.
David Richmond.
Franklin McCain.
Joseph McNeil.
Four young men.
Four college students.
Four ordinary Americans.
And they refused to accept that the color of their skin determined where they could eat.
They sat down.
They asked to be served.
And they were refused.
But they came back.
And others joined them.
And the movement grew.
The demonstrations spread.
Greensboro became a focal point of the civil rights movement.
And the sit-ins helped inspire similar protests across America.
By July, the Greensboro Woolworth’s lunch counter was desegregated.
Now, think about that.
Four young men decided they were going to sit down and have lunch.
And they helped change America.
They didn’t have millions of dollars.
They didn’t have a political action committee.
They didn’t have television commercials.
Hell, they didn’t even have the internet!
They had courage.
They had conviction.
And they had each other.
Four ordinary people did something extraordinary.
That’s lesson number three.
Now, here’s where all of this comes together for me.
I’m 69 years old.
I’ve watched America change dramatically during my lifetime.
I’ve seen people challenge segregation.
I’ve seen millions of Americans organize against a war.
I’ve seen an entire nation come together to accomplish something as impossible as putting a man on the moon.
And I’ve come to understand something.
The greatest force for change in this country has never been one politician.
It’s been people.
Ordinary people.
People who care enough to get involved.
People who are willing to question the way things have always been done.
People who believe tomorrow can be better than today.
And that brings me to Greensboro in 2026.
I’ve decided to run for mayor.
Not because I think I’ve got all the answers.
Hell, at 69, I’ve finally figured out how much I don’t know!
But I do know something about people.
And I know what happens when people start talking to one another.
That’s why I’ve started a thousand-person interview project.
One thousand Greensboro residents.
Four simple questions.
I’m asking people what they think about their city.
What they like.
What they don’t like.
What they’d change.
What they imagine Greensboro could become.
And I’m hearing some remarkable things.
People have ideas.
People have concerns.
People have dreams for this city.
And some of the most interesting conversations are with young people.
People in their 20s and 30s.
Generation Z.
Millennials.
People who are going to inherit the decisions we’re making today.
Now, here’s something I find fascinating.
In 1960, four college students helped change America.
In 1969, young people helped lead a movement against the Vietnam War.
And today, we’ve got another generation of young people facing enormous challenges.
Housing.
Healthcare.
Education.
Jobs.
Artificial intelligence.
A rapidly changing world.
And I wonder what extraordinary things this generation might accomplish.
Because I’ve seen what happens when people get involved.
I’ve seen what happens when people find common ground.
And I’ve seen what happens when an idea catches fire.
So here’s my question.
What could Greensboro accomplish if we started working together with that same sense of purpose?
What if we stopped thinking about our city as a collection of separate neighborhoods and started thinking about ourselves as one community?
What if we listened to each other?
What if we combined the experience of older generations with the energy and imagination of younger generations?
What if we stopped saying, “That’s the way we’ve always done it,” and started asking, “What could we do differently?”
Now, I’m not comparing running a city to landing on the moon.
Although, judging by how long it takes government to get some things done, sometimes I wonder which one’s harder!
But the principle is the same.
Big accomplishments begin with people sharing a vision.
And then doing the work.
Together.
I’ve lived through some extraordinary chapters of American history.
And I don’t believe the extraordinary chapters are over.
I believe there are more to come.
I believe Greensboro has opportunities worth exploring.
And I believe its residents have ideas worth hearing.
But none of that happens automatically.
It takes participation.
It takes imagination.
It takes people willing to get involved.
And it takes the willingness to listen to somebody who sees the world differently than you do.
So here’s what 69 years have taught me.
You don’t have to be famous to make history.
You don’t have to be wealthy.
You don’t have to hold public office.
Sometimes all it takes is four college students sitting down at a lunch counter.
Sometimes it’s thousands of people working behind the scenes to send three astronauts to the moon.
Sometimes it’s millions of Americans standing up and demanding to be heard.
And sometimes it begins with two strangers having a conversation.
That’s why I’m out there talking to people.
That’s why I’m listening.
Because I want to know what Greensboro thinks.
Not just what I think.
And I want those conversations to help shape what comes next.
I’m 69 years old.
I’ve seen what ordinary people can accomplish.
I’ve seen what happens when people come together.
I’ve seen the power of momentum.
And I’ve learned that history isn’t just something we read about.
It’s something ordinary people create.
The next chapter hasn’t been written yet.
And every generation has a chance to help write it.
So Greensboro, here’s my question.
What extraordinary things could we accomplish together?
I’m ready to find out.
Now’s the time.