I was six when my mom went from invincible to human. My role changed from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new facet of life. It set the parameters for understanding the process to be a human with a body. Every summer since 2016 (9 years old), I have volunteered with the Challenger League. Athletes with health conditions partner with non-disabled peer athletes to play baseball games. My first baseball buddy was Allen, a stellar athlete, born blind. Allen told me about a beeper baseball most blind athletes use to hit in games. The beeper ball was expensive. Confident in my ability to support Allen, assured in the kindness of my community, I created a donation form with the Challenger League 501(c)3 number and set out on foot to local businesses. My first stops were with business owners all donated to support my youth baseball, hockey and football teams. Not one of them donated. I was bemused by what was happening. The last business owner shocked me when she said, “They aren’t athletes so I’m not donating.” Ableism slapped me in the face. The realization that a cultural value set athletic societal worth was appalling. Youthful naïveté previously managed my processing of life events but suddenly that innocence vanished. Maybe my life growing up in a poor, conservative community as a bi-racial kid, adopted by an openly gay, now disabled, single mom prepared me? Knowing inclusion was more powerful that division was my reset button to plan a different fundraising path. Action became my healing tool. Utilizing the positive people and resources in my life, I planned a huge fundraising event for the Challenger League. The plan was simple: invite my teammates in all three sports, classmates, plus all of their families to participate in and include their social networks to participate in a kickball tournament. The tournament gained momentum as I invited more people to join my core event team. Ultimately we created an unrivaled community event raising $5000 for the Challenger League. In 7th grade, five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards. These teammates were from poor, single parent households, and couldn’t afford to purchase the mandatory item to participate in football. A long-term solution seemed necessary to avoid similar situations for poor athletes in my community. In 2019, I started my non-profit 501(c)3, called Powerhouse Sports Closet. Full day “sports swap” events where athletes, organizations and businesses can donate any new, or gently used, sports gear. The gear is cleaned, sanitized, then organized in my garage. Over the years I have partnered with my local Dunham’s store to receive donated new gear from them as they do seasonal changes. Other non-profit organizations also donate items they receive that aren’t selling in their locations but would benefit local athletes. Some community members have supported the Powerhouse Sports Closet events by purchasing gift cards for Dunham’s. I purchase gear through Dunham’s with the donated gift cards for all unmet needs for athletes and organization needs. Since 2019 all of our community athletes have been provided gear for free so they can participate in any and all school/community sports. The lessons I learned by volunteering with the Challenger League and starting a non-profit helped me understand my purpose in life. Helping others fuels my spirit. My goal is to become a physician assistant with specialty in neuroscience to help patients with brain damage. My approach outlined by Saint Francis of Assisi "Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible."

My personal progression: “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” -Francis of Assisi “Your mom was electrocuted at work.” I was six years old when my mom went from an invincible SWAT officer to a human, changing my role from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new dimension to my life. As my mom re-learned how to talk, eat, and other tasks we take for granted, I learned how to help her. The injury required us to move from a Milwaukee suburb to rural Beaver Dam, WI to be near my grandparents. The downside of moving was transitioning to a poor, conservative, white community as a biracial (black and Puerto Rican) kid adopted by a single, white mom. Decades earlier my mom was a hometown cop, so I became “the cop’s kid.” My classmates of color didn’t embrace me because they lived in Beaver Dam to be near their incarcerated parent at the local State Prison. The positive part of moving though was the help my grandparents with caring for my mom. This new “everybody knows everybody” environment had some small-town charm. My grandmother was well known, working 42 years as an oncology nurse. Hospital workers were a tight knit group. Insurance coverage limited therapy sessions so she continued her rehabilitation on her own in nightly kettlebell classes. I tagged along and played with kids of the other kettlebell moms. One friend, Taylor, had spina bifida. Taylor was allowed that one hour of class playtime without his back brace, so we went full tilt! Taylor introduced me to his Challenger League team and later became a peer volunteer. My first buddy was Allen, a total stud athlete born blind. From Allen I learned about the beeper baseballs blind players track by sound to hit the ball. Of course, the beeper ball was very expensive but I wanted Allen to have one for our games. Our local sports teams required all players to fundraise each season for equipment. Every season I sold cookie dough for our football fundraiser. My Challenger buddy/teammate needed equipment too so naturally I went to the businesses that supported me for my other teams. This time not one of them donated! The last business owner shocked me saying, “They aren’t athletes so I’m not donating.” I was shocked by this. At the time I didn’t know what ableism was and it never dawned on me that societal worth diminished with a medical condition. The knockout punch instantaneously hit as I processed events that my mom and I might be treated as inferior to others after her electrocution. Being young and naive led me to that moment, but that innocence vanished after that experience. I decided to turn what could have been disappointment into action. Action became my healing tool. With the positive people and resources in my life, I set into motion a larger scale fundraising event for my Challenger League buddies. The plan was simple: invite teammates from my other three sports, classmates, their families, plus the community to take part in a kickball tournament. The tournament gained momentum as I encouraged more people to join me. We created an unrivaled community event, raising $5000 for the Challenger League and the beeper ball was our first purchase. This became my healing tool at nine years old. Orchestrating community teamwork seemed natural. It was my moment of clarity, solidifying my perspective that life’s challenges ARE the reason to invite everyone. Cut to a few years later, My new viewpoint was tested when five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguard in 7th grade. Listening to our coach berate these teammates with words oozing with judgment about poor people re-triggered that same unnerving feeling. My coach’s belittling words wounded me. To cope I decided I needed to take action again and bridge the gap between athletes in need with others that have extra gear. Using a “celebration” mindset I planned a figurative launch party for my new nonprofit 501(c)3 organization Powerhouse Sports Closet.I hosted community collection events and people donated used sports gear, new equipment outgrown before use and new gear from retail stores. My path helped instill empathy/compassion for others. I spent the past decade studying the Bible in church classes. God has guided me to use my faith to help others. I’m a freshman at Holy Cross studying more advanced ways to continue my journey.

“Your mom was electrocuted at work.” I was six when my mom went from invincible to human.  My role changed from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new facet of life. The new parameters outlined to understand being a human with a body. The most devastating injury for my mom was on her brain. The explosion propelled her at a high speed with an impact on a cement wall. The traumatic brain injury was significant. Over the next twelve years, I watched her PT, OT, biofeedback and speech therapy sessions where she retrained her damaged brain. In eighth grade, my football teammate and friend, Junior, died by suicide during our football season. Junior was having a difficult time when Covid forced our school to online academics. Junior grew extremely depressed. His home life was difficult. Junior's dad was incarcerated for armed robbery, his mom had substance abuse issues, so Junior was living with a foster family. Junior confided in me that he thought he was gay. Junior is the biggest, most muscular, toughest guy on our team. I believe he told me because he knew I would be understanding. My mom is gay and I love her endlessly. I hugged Junior and said everyone would love him the same no matter who he loved. Junior hung himself days later. My heart broke knowing Junior's mind led him to suicide. On January 8th, 2022 I was notified that my friend and hockey teammate, Jase Luther, died from an overdose. Jase and I grew up together battling every team we faced as the dynamic defensemen duo. Jase was one year older but significantly smaller in body frame. Our pairing combined opposite styles of play that synced perfectly. We read each other's mind on the ice and moved instinctively together. Off the ice, Jase was a witty, fun loving friend. We made the most out of our hockey tournament hotel stays by playing endless hours of shinny together. He had long, curly hair, that he grew out every season to give him the perfect hockey "flow." We spent thousands of hours together since the age of seven. Hockey tournaments are notoriously big drinking events for parents. Both Jase and I came from single, non-drinking mom households. It was a rarity we bonded over. We vowed to never drink. The drunken debauchery team parents got involved in was our motivation to remain sober. Jase was a good student, positive influence to our team and a friend to everyone. Never once did I suspect that he would try any drug. His older sister had difficulty with substance abuse that lead to physical altercations between Jase's sister and mom. Jase's mom was physically disabled and walked with Lofstrand crutches (forearm style). Jase would vent to me about how his sister's drug abuse was making life difficult to keep his mom safe during attacks. Jase spoke about distain toward the drug dealers supplying his sister. To say I was shocked when told about Jase's overdose is the understatement of the century. The news buckled my knees. My mind was swirly with snippets of what I missed. How could I have helped show him support? I was fifteen and two friends were dead. Something needed to change. I switched to an elite academic high school, Culver Academy, on a full academic scholarship. That education prepared me to major in neuroscience at Holy Cross this fall. I will educate my mind fully to help people like my mom, Jase, Junior. The brain offers endless answers and solutions.

My friend, Taylor Post, introduced me to his Challenger League team. Taylor was born with spina bifida. I became a peer volunteer in 2018 and continued to volunteer every summer. My Challenger League buddies change every summer. All athletes have different medical conditions. My buddies through the years have all been amazing but Allen led me to community activism. Allen is a total stud athlete born blind. To hit in games, Allen was using a tee, but most blind players use beeper balls and buzzing bases. The cost for bases and a ball is $1200. To fundraise for Allen’s baseball gear needs, I planned n a large scale , community wide, youth kickball tournament as a fundraising event. We had hundreds of participants. I rented four City owned baseball fields at one park, organized volunteers for a concessions stand, resulting in a 3 hr tournament raising $5000 for the Challenger League. The community generosity allowed $2700 to be utilized to install safety chain link fencing and ramp access to handicap accessible bathrooms. The fencing and ramps were installed at the City park where the Challenger League plays games. Last year I organized a different type of fundraising event during Thanksgiving school break. Two women from my church were battling stage 4 cancer. Both had rising medical bills and needed a little financial help. I named it “Resale for a Cause” and rented out our church’s newly constructed parish center at St Katherine-Drexel for a week, Before school break, I made calls to everyone I knew, placed in local papers, created social media pages for the event, then discussed event details during an interview on a local talk radio. The donation times where posted and for one week straight, people dontated truck loads of new and gently used household items, clothing, appliances, sports gear, etc. My crew of volunteers grew daily (just family and friends the first day, then 40 new volunteers by day 5) as we washed, organized and priced items. The parish center was overflowing with donations. The event began on Black Friday and the 40+ volunteers made non-stop sales for two days, raising over $35,000. The cash was split evenly between the two families. Prior to the event, I reached out to my fellow non-profit friends, scheduling them to arrive at my event when it closed. They selected needed items for their own organization from the truckloads of remaining quality donations. The 40 volunteers loaded their trucks and trailers delivering remaining items to: Habitat for Humanity Restore, People Against a Violent Environment (PAVE, our local domestic abuse shelter); St Vincent de Paul resale store. The whole community benefited. I began my own non-profit 501(c)3 in 2019. I started my non-profit in 7th grade after five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards. These teammates were all minorities, from poor, single parent households, and couldn’t afford to purchase the mandatory mouthguard to participate in school football. I am the only other minority in our program. My non-profit is called Powerhouse Sports Closet. For five years I have hosted six full day “sport swap” events per year where athletes can donate any new or gently used sports gear they outgrew or no longer need and/or pick-up any needed gear for free.Since 2019 all of our community athletes have been provided gear for free so they can participate in any and all school/community sports. I graduate in June, having earned twelve varsity letters in football, hockey and baseball. This scholarship will help me afford Butler University. I am playing D1 football. Pioneer League colleges are all non-athletic scholarship programs.

In eighth grade (2020), my football teammate and friend, Junior, died by suicide during our football season. Junior was having a difficult time when Covid forced our school to online academics. Junior grew extremely depressed. His home life was difficult. Junior's dad was incarcerated for armed robbery, his mom had substance abuse issues, so Junior was living with a foster family. Junior confided in me that he thought he was gay. Junior is the biggest, most muscular, toughest guy on our team. I believe he told me because we are the only two Puerto Rican players in our entire football. Puerto Rican men are raised to develop machismo. Junior was concerned people would perceive him differently, less of a man, shunned by fellow Puerto Ricans. I hugged Junior and told him everyone would love him the same no matter who he loved. In my mind, Junior was my funniest friend, a beast on the field, the teammate you wanted on the field with you. Unfortunately, Junior didn't receive great feedback when he came out to others. He hung himself days later. My heart was broken knowing Junior's mind led him to suicide. On January 8th, 2022 I was notified that my friend and hockey teammate, Jase Luther, died from an overdose. Jase and I grew up together battling every team we faced as the dynamic defensemen duo. Jase was one year older but significantly smaller in body frame. Our pairing combined opposite styles of play that synced perfectly. We read each other's mind on the ice and moved instinctively together. Off the ice, Jase was a witty, fun loving friend. We made the most out of our hockey tournament hotel stays by playing endless hours of shinny together. He had long, curly hair, that he grew out every season to give him the perfect hockey "flow." We spent thousands of hours together since the age of seven. Hockey tournaments are notoriously big drinking events for parents. Both Jase and I came from single, non-drinking mom households. It was a rarity we bonded over. We vowed to never drink. The drunken debauchery team parents got involved in was our motivation to remain sober. Jase was a good student, positive influence to our team and a friend to everyone. Never once did I suspect that he would try any drug. His older sister had difficulty with substance abuse that lead to physical altercations between Jase's sister and mom. Jase's mom was physically disabled and walked with Lofstrand crutches (forearm style). Jase would vent to me about how his sister's drug abuse was making life difficult to keep his mom safe during attacks. Jase spoke about distain toward the drug dealers supplying his sister. To say I was shocked about Jase's overdose is the understatement of the century. The news buckled my knees. My mind was swirly with snippets of what I missed. How could I have helped show him support? I was fifteen with two friends that died. Something needed to change. My mom owned a CrossFit gym in my hometown. I was fortunate to grow up a gym rat. Workouts became my outlet to help cope with stress. All of middle school, I was in the gym, developing my athletic skill set. Now I wanted that same challenge in my education. I applied to an elite academic high school, Culver Academy, and received a full tuition, academic scholarship. To help people that look like me, academic success was necessary, ultimately leading to an elite academic college. My college pursuit is to become a psychiatrist and help people like Jase and Junior.

My mom worked as an undercover narcotics special agent with the Department of Justice (DOJ) Division of Criminal (DCI) my entire childhood until she retired. It was common for her to work long hours and get phone calls from informants at all hours. Growing up with an undercover mom helped me gain perspective on drugs. She was involved in dangerous investigations but loved her job. To her, the criminal justice system was flawed by punishing users, so she made it her mission to arrest every dealer causing an overdose under the Len Bias Law. To her, an overdose was murder, and needs to be investigated like all murders. Even after retirement, Christmas cards get sent to her from victims' families and old informants. In eighth grade, my football teammate and friend, Junior, died by suicide during our football season. Junior was having a difficult time when Covid forced our school to online academics. Junior grew extremely depressed. His home life was difficult. Junior's dad was incarcerated for armed robbery, his mom had substance abuse issues, so Junior was living with a foster family. Junior confided in me that he thought he was gay. Junior is the biggest, most muscular, toughest guy on our team. I believe he told me because he knew I would be understanding. My mom is gay and I love her endlessly. I hugged Junior and said everyone would love him the same no matter who he loved. Junior hung himself days later. My heart broke knowing Junior's mind led him to suicide. On January 8th, 2022 I was notified that my friend and hockey teammate, Jase Luther, died from an overdose. Jase and I grew up together battling every team we faced as the dynamic defensemen duo. Jase was one year older but significantly smaller in body frame. Our pairing combined opposite styles of play that synced perfectly. We read each other's mind on the ice and moved instinctively together. Off the ice, Jase was a witty, fun loving friend. We made the most out of our hockey tournament hotel stays by playing endless hours of shinny together. He had long, curly hair, that he grew out every season to give him the perfect hockey "flow." We spent thousands of hours together since the age of seven. Hockey tournaments are notoriously big drinking events for parents. Both Jase and I came from single, non-drinking mom households. It was a rarity we bonded over. We vowed to never drink. The drunken debauchery team parents got involved in was our motivation to remain sober. Jase was a good student, positive influence to our team and a friend to everyone. Never once did I suspect that he would try any drug. His older sister had difficulty with substance abuse that lead to physical altercations between Jase's sister and mom. Jase's mom was physically disabled and walked with Lofstrand crutches (forearm style). Jase would vent to me about how his sister's drug abuse was making life difficult to keep his mom safe during attacks. Jase spoke about distain toward the drug dealers supplying his sister. To say I was shocked when told about Jase's overdose is the understatement of the century. The news buckled my knees. My mind was swirly with snippets of what I missed. How could I have helped show him support? I was fifteen and two friends were dead. Something needed to change. I switched to an elite academic high school, Culver Academy, on a full academic scholarship. Goal driven to become a psychiatrist and educate my mind fully to help people like Jase, Junior and Cade.

Grandma: “Your mom was electrocuted at work.” Me: *numb* I was six when my mom went from invincible to human. My role changed from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new facet of life. The parameters outlined to understand being a human with a body. This new norm led to my involvement volunteering with the Challenger League at nine. Athletes with health conditions partner with non-disabled peer athletes to play baseball games. My first baseball buddy was Allen, a stellar athlete, born blind. Allen told me about a beeper baseball most blind athletes use to hit. The beeper ball was expensive. Confident in my ability to support Allen, assured in the kindness of my community, I created a donation form with the Challenger League 501(c)3 number and set out on foot to local businesses. My first stops were with business owners that all donated to my youth baseball, hockey and football teams. This day, not one of them donated. I was bemused by what was happening. The last business owner shocked me by saying, “They aren’t athletes so I’m not donating.” Ableism slapped me in the face and dazed my soul. The realization that a cultural positioning structure set athletic societal worth was appalling. The knockout punch instantaneously hit when I processed events where my mom and I were treated as inferior after her electrocution. Youthful naïveté previously managed my processing of life events. That innocence vanished. Luckily my mind defaulted to emotional surfing to navigate my visceral response. Maybe my life growing up in a poor, conservative community as a bi-racial kid, adopted by an openly gay, now disabled, single mom prepared me? Action became my healing tool. Utilizing the positive people and resources in my life, I set into motion a fundraising event for the Challenger League. The plan was simple: invite my teammates from all three sports; classmates; their families; the community to take part in a kickball tournament. The tournament gained momentum as I included more people to join my core event team. We created an unrivaled community event raising $5000 for the Challenger League. This was my healing tool at nine years old. At age twelve, five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards required to play on our seventh-grade team. Listening to our coach’s viewpoint, punishment plan, all oozing with judgment of these five poorest athletes, re-triggered my inner tidal wave of emotion. This torrent of feelings created a different surf to ride. The kickball event taught me a need to incorporate nonidentical strategies to overcome obstacles. This time, my action plan was to bridge the gap between athletes in need, with athletes that have extra gear. Utilizing my social network of teammates, our team organization members, then the organization’s sport gear supplier, a foundation to build upon formed. In 2019 I gained 501(c)3 status for my nonprofit organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I held community collection events where individuals, teams, businesses donated gently used sports gear, new equipment outgrown before use or gear left over from retail seasonal turnover. I cleaned the gear, organized and categorized items. Monthly times and dates to pick-up, drop-off, or exchange gear for free to any athlete flourished the program. My mind needed an outlet to process each obstacle. Entertainment to unwind when my mom was injured. At 6 years old my social network consisted of: Luigi, Mario and Sonic. I transitioned to brainstorming with Batman and Zelda for a few years. Now my IRL friends and I bond over Metroid. Nintendo games are my decompression time.

Grandma: “Your mom was electrocuted at work.” Me: *numb* I was six when my mom went from invincible to human. My role changed from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new facet of life. The parameters outlined to understand being a human with a body. This new norm led to my involvement volunteering with the Challenger League at nine. Athletes with health conditions partner with non-disabled peer athletes to play baseball games. My first baseball buddy was Allen, a stellar athlete, born blind. Allen told me about a beeper baseball most blind athletes use to hit. The beeper ball was expensive. Confident in my ability to support Allen, assured in the kindness of my community, I created a donation form with the Challenger League 501(c)3 number and set out on foot to local businesses. My first stops were with business owners that all donated to my youth baseball, hockey and football teams. This day, not one of them donated. I was bemused by what was happening. The last business owner shocked me by saying, “They aren’t athletes so I’m not donating.” Ableism slapped me in the face and dazed my soul. The realization that a cultural positioning structure set athletic societal worth was appalling. The knockout punch instantaneously hit when I processed events where my mom and I were treated as inferior after her electrocution. Youthful naïveté previously managed my processing of life events. That innocence vanished. Luckily my mind defaulted to emotional surfing to navigate my visceral response. Maybe my life growing up in a poor, conservative community as a bi-racial kid, adopted by an openly gay, now disabled, single mom prepared me? Action became my healing tool. Utilizing the positive people and resources in my life, I set into motion a fundraising event for the Challenger League. The plan was simple: invite my teammates from all three sports; classmates; their families; the community to take part in a kickball tournament. The tournament gained momentum as I included more people to join my core event team. We created an unrivaled community event raising $5000 for the Challenger League. At age twelve, five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards required to play on our seventh-grade team. Listening to our coach’s viewpoint, punishment plan, all oozing with judgment of these five poorest athletes, re-triggered my inner tidal wave of emotion. This torrent of feelings created a different surf to ride. The kickball event taught me a need to incorporate nonidentical strategies to overcome obstacles. This time, my action plan was to bridge the gap between athletes in need, with athletes that have extra gear. Utilizing my social network of teammates, our team organization members, then the organization’s sport gear supplier, a foundation to build upon formed. In 2019 I gained 501(c)3 status for my nonprofit organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I held community collection events where individuals, teams, businesses donated gently used sports gear, new equipment outgrown before use or gear left over from retail seasonal turnover. I cleaned the gear, organized and categorized items. Monthly times and dates to pick-up, drop-off, or exchange gear for free to any athlete flourished the program. I was heartened to receive my first business donation. Our ReStore manager handed me ten boxes. The equipoised donation held football mouthguards in each box. That donation sparked an inner brightness toward my purpose. My life was impacted by my mother’s leadership, guiding me to help all youth be included, valued and afforded equal opportunity. The mind is powerful. Feed it with knowledge to empower all.

Mom: “Junior was just found dead. He hung himself.” Me: *numb* At age twelve, five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards. It’s a required item to play on our seventh-grade football team. Listening to our coach’s viewpoint, punishment plan, all oozing with judgment of these five poorest athletes, triggered my inner tidal wave of emotion. This torrent of feelings created a surf to ride. The five athletes were suspended from several games and I saw Junior become deflated by the news. Junior was our best athlete and one of the players arrested. We had been friends and teammates for years. My mom often gave Junior rides to/from practice, sent him with food and groceries weekly, plus washed his clothes and uniform at the end of the week. Shortly after Junior was born, his father was incarcerated for robbery, his mother dealt with addiction issues and was absent from his life, so Junior lived with foster parents. Ironically, Junior lived with the same foster parents that raised his mom, the same people his mom labeled as abusive during her childhood. Junior was well liked at school, had a bright future athletically, and used sports as his coping tool during tough times. Taking away football from Junior was devastating to his mental health. It was his outlet, his safe space, his support system to tolerate an abusive home life. That night Junior ended his life. Processing Junior’s death was difficult. It didn’t make sense to me. My mom was a detective and explained that Junior didn’t die by suicide because of the arrest. Junior experienced a lifetime of pain, neglect, abuse. His coping tool to battle the horrible home life was football. Without it, he could not cope. My soul was heavy knowing Junior felt like he had no community support. It motivated me to take action as my coping tool. There had to be a better way for athletes in my community to gain access for these required sports gear items. My action plan was to bridge the gap between athletes in need, with athletes that have extra gear. Utilizing my social network of teammates, our team organization members, then the organization’s sport gear supplier, a foundation to build upon to create my vision. In 2019 I gained 501(c)3 status for my nonprofit organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I held community collection events where individuals, teams, businesses donated gently used sports gear, new equipment outgrown before use or gear left over from retail seasonal turnover. I cleaned the gear, organized and categorized items. Monthly times and dates to pick-up, drop-off, or exchange gear for free to any athlete flourished the program. I was heartened to receive my first business donation. Our local ReStore manager handed me ten boxes. The equipoised donation held football mouthguards in each box. That donation sparked an inner brightness toward my purpose. I knew Junior would be proud. My life moto: “Start by doing what’s necessary; then do what’s possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” -Francis of Assisi

Grandma: “Your mom was electrocuted at work.” Me: *numb* I was six when my mom went from invincible to human. My role changed from son to caretaker. This is not what defined me, or my childhood, it just became a new facet of life. The parameters outlined to understand being a human with a body. This new norm led to my involvement volunteering with the Challenger League at nine. Athletes with health conditions partner with non-disabled peer athletes to play baseball games. My first baseball buddy was Allen, a stellar athlete, born blind. Allen told me about a beeper baseball most blind athletes use to hit. The beeper ball was expensive. Confident in my ability to support Allen, assured in the kindness of my community, I created a donation form with the Challenger League 501(c)3 number and set out on foot to local businesses. My first stops were with business owners that all donated to my youth baseball, hockey and football teams. This day, not one of them donated. I was bemused by what was happening. The last business owner shocked me by saying, “They aren’t athletes so I’m not donating.” Ableism slapped me in the face and dazed my soul. The realization that a cultural positioning structure set athletic societal worth was appalling. The knockout punch instantaneously hit when I processed events where my mom and I were treated as inferior after her electrocution. Youthful naïveté previously managed my processing of life events. That innocence vanished. Luckily my mind defaulted to emotional surfing to navigate my visceral response. Action became my healing tool. Utilizing the positive people and resources in my life, I set into motion a fundraising event for the Challenger League. The plan was simple: invite my teammates from all three sports; classmates; their families; the community to take part in a kickball tournament. The tournament gained momentum as I included more people to join my core event team. We created an unrivaled community event raising $5000 for the Challenger League. This was my healing tool at nine years old. At age twelve, five of my football teammates were arrested for stealing mouthguards required to play on our seventh-grade team. Listening to our coach’s viewpoint, punishment plan, all oozing with judgment of these five poorest athletes, re-triggered my inner tidal wave of emotion. This torrent of feelings created a different surf to ride because all five were African American and I was the only other black athlete on the team. This time, my action plan was to bridge the gap between athletes in need, with athletes that have extra gear. Utilizing my social network of teammates, our team organization members, then the organization’s sport gear supplier, a foundation to build upon formed. In 2019 I gained 501(c)3 status for my nonprofit organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I held community collection events where individuals, teams, businesses donated gently used sports gear, new equipment outgrown before use or gear left over from retail seasonal turnover. I cleaned the gear, organized and categorized items. Monthly times and dates to pick-up, drop-off, or exchange gear for free to any athlete flourished the program. I was heartened to receive my first business donation. Our local ReStore manager handed me ten boxes. The equipoised donation held football mouthguards in each box. That donation sparked an inner brightness toward my purpose. I earned an academic scholarship to an elite high school, Culver Academy. 40% of my classmates are international students and we push each other toward excellence in STEM. Culver prepared me for elite STEM colleges which are only possible to afford with scholarships.

Toby Flenderson is absolutely my favorite character! He is surrounded by ridiculous behavior from coworkers and administrators. His approach is to gently direct and correct actions through a more positive action plan. Not all situations are easy to correct but he shows up to work daily, knowing he will have to face conflict and residual personal fall-out, with the same calm demeanor. The first week of my 7th grade football season our head coach called over five of my teammates for a sideline meeting with the assistant coaches to “punish” the boys. The head coach explained that the five players were caught shoplifting football mouthguards at Shopko before practice. My mom was an assistant coach and furious as she said, “so a required safety equipment item was stolen by five low-income athletes as their means to meet the requirement for participation and you think the issue we need to discuss as a coaching staff is to punish them?’ We left the field and, on the drive home, discussed frustration that the school, coaching staff, and community didn’t offer an alternative support option for required equipment so more kids could participate.  I thought for days about how to bridge the gap between athletes in need of required equipment and those with extra gear. In October of 2018 I applied for 501(c)3 status and named my organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I published our organization in the newspaper and on social media which lead to loads of equipment being donated! Individual community members donated gently used or outgrown sports gear. Then businesses, teams and organizations donated new equipment when they saw my program flourish. The donated items were given to any youth athlete in our community that needed the gear. The other organization I volunteer my summers with is the Challenger League. It’s a baseball team that plays games every Sunday night June-August. I was partnered with a physically challenged peer athlete to help them compete in the game. My baseball buddy the summer of 2019 was a blind athlete. I used the Powerhouse Sports Closet resources to buy him a beeper baseball. He was able to track the ball by sound and would get amazing hits! My temperament is similar to Toby. We face chaos with calm resolutions. The actions Toby and myself do are anchored in "doing what's right" and not what's popular. This method of improving situations was logical to me and a great segue to how I became Toby in real life! I'm currently entering my senior year at Culver Academy, a military style elite (predominantly white) prep school, that I was only able to attend through an academic scholarship. My military rank last year was Diversity Sergeant. The position required me to address/counsel my peers for "diversity violations" reported within our unit. I was dumbfounded at times at how absurd justifications can be by people clearly doing wrong actions/behaviors. It does become comical to listen as my Caucasian peers explain to me why they have "earned" the right to use racial slurs. I remain calm, explain diversity inclusion behaviors but usually the end result to the conversation is a mind-blowing, completely wrong take-away by my peer. Sometimes I would sit and look for a camera after the conversations concluded because I felt like my present at the end each conversation was a rock with a post-it that said "Suck on this!"

The first week of football in 7th grade, our head coach called over five of my teammates, for a sideline meeting with the assistant coaches to “punish” the boys. The head coach explained that the five players were caught shoplifting football mouthguards at Shopko before practice. My mom was an assistant coach and furious saying, “so a required safety equipment item was stolen by five low-income athletes as their means to meet the requirement for participation and you think the issue we need to discuss as a coaching staff is to punish them?’ We left the field and, on the drive home, discussed frustration that the school, coaching staff, and community didn’t offer an alternative support option for required equipment so more kids could participate.  I thought for days about how to bridge the gap between athletes in need of required equipment and those with extra gear. In October of 2018 I applied for 501(c)3 status and named my organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. I published our organization in the newspaper and on social media which lead to loads of equipment being donated! Individual community members donated gently used or outgrown sports gear. Then businesses, teams and organizations donated new equipment when they saw my program flourish. The donated items were given to any youth athlete in our community that needed the gear. The other organization I volunteer my summers with is the Challenger League. It’s a baseball team that plays games every Sunday night June-August. I was partnered with a physically challenged peer athlete to help them compete in the game. My baseball buddy the summer of 2019 was a blind athlete. I used the Powerhouse Sports Closet resources to buy him a beeper baseball. He was able to track the ball by sound and would get amazing hits! I tell you this information so that you understand why my favorite Team USA athlete is Fred Kerley. Fred grew up battling the odds from a young age. He has several tattoos as reminders to himself that his journey through life wasn't easy but he still honors where he came from. His parents weren't able to care for him so he was adopted by his Aunt, slept in a one bedroom home with thirteen family members, worked hard to remain positive and earn olympic greatness. Fred changed race distances from 400 meter to shorter races like the 100 meter and logged the sixth fastest time in history. His bronze medal in the 100 meter race at the Paris Olympics at age 29 is remarkable. It's fun to watch athletes accomplish greatness. The part that makes me root for Fred Kerley more than others, is that he exemplifies that love and support from just one person, can make all the difference.

My mom adopted me at birth as a single parent. She knew being a single parent wasn't the easiest path but one she welcomed fully. In 2013, while working on duty as a detective, she was electrocuted when I was six years old. She suffered significant physical injuries but the most impactful was a traumatic brain injury. The TBI affected her memory, cognitive ability, motor function, speech and balance significantly so I had to become a caretaker at a young age. Through years of various types of physical and cognitive therapy, memory aids, adaptive equipment paired with pure motivation to improve, she regained independence. The experience showed me that in a blink of an eye life can change. Health is wealth! During the six years she spent recovering her independence, I was surrounded by amazing people that helped her get me to my actives and events. Life was different but never less rewarding. All the support shown to me by our "chosen family" helped me appreciate pure acts of kindness and gain an inner motivation to give back to the community as a sign of appreciation. I began volunteering my summers in 2018 with was the Challenger League. It’s a baseball team that plays games every Sunday night June-August. I was partnered with a physically challenged peer athlete to help them compete in the game. My baseball buddy was blind. After a game I was chatting with his parents and they mentioned a family goal was to raise money to purchase him a beeper baseball to track the ball by sound. My mom overcame many physical obstacles with the help of physical aids so I presented a plan to her where I could seek out community donations of new or gently used sports equipment at the end of each sports season. If I was blessed with cash donations then I could purchase items like a beeper ball or required safety equipment for all participants. In 2018 I applied for 501(c)3 status and named my organization Powerhouse Sports Closet. My fundraising efforts were successful and the Powerhouse Sports Closet resources lead to purchasing my buddy a beeper baseball. He was able to instantly get amazing hits and everyone at the game cheered for him! His parents cried with pride and truthfully so did I. My entire perspective of athletic accomplishments up to that point was from a highly competitive athlete perspective, only viewing sports based upon personal performance, but that changed instantly. Now I view athletics based upon experiences and my ability to include others to participate and have their own experience! All Challenger athletes faced different physical challenges. At each Challenger league game the parents filled the stands and cheered, the players all had fun and I loved participating. I became close friends with my Challenger league buddies over the years. It became obvious that our City owned baseball/softball fields didn't allow enough protection or accessibility for my Challenger buddies to watch games comfortably or safely. After brainstorming, I organized a big kickball fundraiser event, raised $2500 in cash donations, went to the city with a fence quote and proposal to pay for it. The end result was that my fundraising donations hired and paid to have the side of the baseball diamond facing the handicapped bathroom to be fenced off for protection of spectators. We then made a gravel path to the diamonds which connected to the main gravel path. My buddies never missed any of my games from that point forward. Some situations may be more complex but each one can be met with teamwork toward progress.