Please welcome to the stage, Kyle Coyers, representing the Kaufman Interfaith Institute at Grand Valley State University.

Good afternoon, everyone.

Welcome to Michigan Listens.

It is truly an honor to be here with you today at Grand Valley State University, gathered here in the spirit of listening, deep, intentional, reverent listening Everyone gathered here in this room was invited with the intention to intentionally curate a space, or perhaps more appropriately, to set a table reflective of our beautiful state of Michigan So whether you are here as one of our speakers or are a part of our audience, thank you for opting into the courageous and vulnerable work of listening, of empathy of striving to see others in ourselves and the humanity of the people around us.

To that end, we are grateful for all of the unseen labor that has made this event possible.

Conference and events, services, catering, facilities, the AV team, GVPD and our dear friends from Boise State University.

Thank you all.

We also honor the Anashinabe people, the Ojibwe, the Adowawa, and the Bawadami peoples on whose ancestral Michigama land we are gathered tonight to listen In the spirit of relationship and advancing understanding through education and to formally welcome you to Grand Valley’s campus, it’s my pleasure to introduce the president of GVSU Philomena Mantella.

Thank you, Kyle.

What a pleasure to see you all in this room and be together in community for this experience that we’re going to share It is truly my great honor to welcome you to Grand Valley State University for a powerful evening of storytelling and sharing values.

We live in a time when polarization often feels like the default setting where shouting seems louder than understanding, and where difference is often treated as danger.

But today, we’re choosing a different path.

Today, we’re choosing to listen.

I first learned of this idea through our rep 4 partnership with Boise State University and their president at that time, Dr.

Marlene Trump.

And I would like to acknowledge President Trump have you stand and be recognized for your leadership as this this was inspired in Boise under your leadership.

Marlene?

Marlene, I have to now invite you to meet her as UVM’s new president.ident at the University of Vermont, where she joined them this summer.

I also want to acknowledge the colleagues from voicesise that she introduced us to and who’ve been on this journey with us together.

So would you all stand if you were a part of the planning team from Boise State University Thank you so, so much.

These individuals have been super generous with their time.

But as we talked about this program, Marlene encouraged me to watch the video of Idaho Listens I think we made one mistake at setting up the program, and that is there’s no tissue on the table.

And I’m going to tell you from watching the video that might have been a critical area.

So particularly for me.

So anybody in the back that wants to help me, you know, feel free to bring some forward.

Because it’s very powerful I watched people share a wide range of experiences and a number of assumptions just fall into the ethos as we learn to see each other differently.

So I’m so excited to have the people from across our state be a part of a conversation that will help us understand each other better as we live in an increasingly chaotic world.

Tonight, we’ll hear from nine miganders, remarkable miganders, everyday people from across the state who have generously agreed to share not only their story, but a piece of themselves with us They come from different quarters of Michigan, from different backgrounds, from different professions, faith, and life experiences to be here with us tonight.

Together, they represent a rich tapestry of our state, from the Upper Peninsula to the thumb from the urban core, to rural townss, from classrooms to farm fields, to boardrooms.

They are here to share their stories and illuminate what they value and why.

Michigan’s listens as a part of a larger GVU initiative called Talking Together.

I want to thank our university partners on that project who have worked together to do many events, including the one here tonight, the Howenstein Center for Presidential Studies the Kaufman Interfaith Institute, WGVU, Public Radio, and the Padno Cirosic Center for Civil Discourse.

Would you join me in giving them a round of applause?

Their commitment continues to ensure that we have a community of productive dialogue here at Graham Valley State University.

Since the fall of 2022, these four centers have leaned into talking together in the spirit of collaboration, the culture of conversation, not just on our campus, but across our communities.

Today, as we gather, we culminate their work in this gathering.

So thank you again for joining us.

Thank you to Kyle who is taking us an emcing tonight and for walking us through the vision for this event.

I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you.

So as President Mantella mentioned, this idea began in Idaho, with a simple, the powerful vision from the philanthropist Gregory.

Carr.

He imagined a space where people from all walks of life could speak their truth, uninterrupted and where the audience would respond not with applause, but with attention.

That vision has now traveled here to Michigan, and we are proud to carry it forward.

We are grateful to our friends at Boise State University for pioneering this work and for their support and partnership in making this vision a reality this evening As institutions of learning, universities have a unique opportunity to present the ideals and values of the American people as information, not as politics.

We can use our classrooms in auditoriums to educate ourselves about a multiple array of view viewpoints, but most importantly, about each other and our lived experiences.

Despite popular narratives, that point to singular outlooks and ideologies So as we begin, I invite you to settle in, to listen, not just with your ears, but with your whole being.

You may hear something today that challenges you.

You may hear something today that resonates deeply That’s the beauty of this space.

Let us remember that values are not abstract.

They are lived.

They show up in how we treat our new.

neighbor, how we raise our children, how we show up at work, how we navigate both pain and joy And while we may not all share the same values, we all have the capacity to listen, to learn, and to grow with and from one another.

This event is not a performance.

It is not a debate, it is not a contest of ideas It is something far more radical in today’s world.

It’s a space for presence, for story, and for humanity.

So we will soon hear from our speakers as though we are traveling around the state of Michigan.

Each speaker will share what they value, what guides them, what shapes their decisions, what shows up in their everyday lives These stories are not meant to persuade you or provoke you, they’re simply meant to be heard, fully, quietly, respectfully.

And so to that end, we’re going to hear from our first five speakers, and then as noted in your program, there will be a short break after which we’ll hear from the remaining four.

Both during the speaker’s stories and afterwards, it’s important that we remain silent.

No clapping, no cheering.

As one speaker finishes in the next walks on stage, there will intentionally be silence, no music, no applause.

This may feel strange at first, but I invite you to lean into these moments for silence and reflection.

It’s a way of saying, your story matters.

Your voice matters.

You matter At the very end of our program, we will invite our speakers back up to applaud them altogether.

So I invite you to get comfortable in your chair as we begin our time of listening together To kick us off, I invite to the stage, Mr.

Sam Simpson.

Thank you.

Good evening, everyone.

My name is Sam.

Sam.

I was born by a river in a little W Sam, I’m sorry.

My name is Sam Simpson.

I was born in Detroit.

I’m in my 60s.

I was born in the 60s.

I grew up near downtown Detroit, I have seen the rising fall of Detroit due to policies and politics What I value most is family.

My dad had nine children, four girls, five boys.

We watched our dad and mom, who moved here from the south, work hard to provide a better life for us.

My dad didn’t’t drive, so I watched him catch the bus to work in early morning hours and watch him come home late at night.

My mom worked at Chrysler.

My parents always were constant in our lives.

Family gatherings were constant, and we still carry those traditions today.

We added brothers and sisters day instead of Mothers and Fathers Day.

We have several holidays where my sisters get together and you treat the the brothers for brothers they for everything we did out through the years.

It’s coming for a good card game or potluck to be thrown together at any time in my family.

I had nine aunts on my father’s side and nine aunts and uncles on my father’s side.

We’re down to one.

So today, me and my brothers and sisters, we’re the new aunts and uncles.

I knew my aunts and uncles by name, they knew each and every one of us as we know each other’s children.

The correcting course of my life was the birth of my daughter.

I was reborn again in 1993, when my daughter was born.

That’s when I started working for the auto industry.

I didn’t understand at the time why my father worked so hard to take care of his children until I had one of my own, just one, one of my own.

I didn’t understand what he was doing.

Then it began working in automotion, I realized I needed a steady job with benefits to provide for my family.

I’ve been billing seats for the big three for 30 plus years at companies like Lear, I’m currently at Bridgewater Interiors.

I can say in knowing you have behind you, a good family is wonderful.

If I as a reflect, I can see how intertwined those two words can really are both built on connection and showing up every day doing your best when no one is even watching.

The artist industry taught me how to work hard, and my family showed me why.

I’m carrying on tradition of my family.

The goal is still the same.

To always put family first and learn how to balance the two working family and provide a better life for my family in the next generation.

Thank you very much.

I immigrated from Lebanon to the United States when I was just one year old My parents didn’t speak English, so we relied heavenly on the neighbors, the school system, in a local nonprofit called the Access to help us navigate this new world.

That was my first lesson in community We survive alone, but we thrive when we are part of something bigger than ourselves.

But life wasn’t easy.

By 16 and a half, I was in an unhealthy relationship.

At 17, I was married, and by the age of 19, I had two children And for nearly two decades, I lived in an abusive relationship, feeling isolated, trapped, and alone.

Domestic violence remains a devastating issue across the world and right here in the United States Its scars aren’t always visible, but they run deep.

Yet even in my darkest moments, community found me.

I remember being at target and strangers, people that didn’t even know me, would come up to me and ask,Are you okay?

Can I help?

And I would think, maybe they saw the bruises beneath the makeup, maybe they saw the sadness in my eyes.

I usually looked the way I was too afraid to speak, but those small acts of kindness, they gave me hope Ordinary acts of kindness became my lifeline.

Late at night, when I wondered whether I would make it through another day I remembered those faces, those voices, and I I think someone cares.

I’m not completely alone.

Hope doesn’t always come in bold gestures Sometimes it comes in whispers, and soft reminders that the world hasn’t forgotten you.

I held on to those moments.

They reminded me that I wasn’t invisible and that someone cared.

To me, community isn’t just the people around you.

It’s a belonging.

It’s being seen.

It’s It’s knowing that you don’t have to face life alone, even when you haven’t yet found the strength to ask for help.

At school, teachers and peers tried to reach out.

I wasn’t ready.

Sometimes, not ready, looks like the quiet girl who never raises her hand again.

Fear held me back.

It took years for me to believe I deserved help and even longer to accept it.

What time I earned my master’s degree in clinical psychology, and what felt like faith, I found myself working at access, the same nonprofit that had once helped my family when we arrived to this country Access is the largest Arab American community nonprofit in the country, in its services anyone who walks through its doors.

I started off as a therapist, and as I was approaching my two years, my director approaches me and with excitement.

He says,<unk>We just received funding to start a domestic violence program here and he wanted me to lead that effort.

My initial reaction, I panicked.

What do they Do they know my secret?

What are they going to think of me?

And I gave them every reason why I wasn’t the right fit for that position.

We agreed that we would come back in two weeks and we would discuss discuss it again.

Two weeks passed, and I walked into his office with my resignation in hand.

He looked confused, kept asking, why?

And then there was silence, and I looked at him, and I said, how can a victim help other victims?

He was quiet for a moment.

We went back and forth again about family, how.

And I put my head down, and he looked at me, and he said, well, what do you want to do?

And I said, "Please, I just want to get out."

He looked at me, and said, "We are your family now.

And in that moment, something in me shifted, I wasn’t alone Today, I serve as the director of the Axis Community Health and Research Center, leading more than 70 programs.

And about 15 years ago, when we first started the program, we held a domestic violence fundraising dinner, and I stood in front of a large audience and said for the very first time I am a survivor."

That night, I slept peacefully for the first time in years.

I felt free.

And of course, I took that position, and I was given the opportunity to create a program at domestic violence program designed to remove all barriers for survivors, offering legal support, transitional housing, therapy, financial assistance, you name it Everything a survivor needs to rebuild a life with dignity and safety.

I have witnessed firsthand how community can transform lives the belief that carried me through childhood and through the hardest chapters, the power of support, kindness, and connection, guides everything I do today.

Community has taught me that even when life feels overwhelming, and even when we feel that we are alone we are never truly alone.

Small acts of kindness matter, Supp support matters, connection matters.

Community saves us long before we even know we need saving.

Sometimes it’s a neighbor.

Sometimes it’s a teacher, and sometimes it’s a stranger in a target aisle who simply asks, are you okay Kindness echoes, support lifts, and connection heals, and the care we offer, even in the smallest moments, has the power to change someone’s life just like it changes.

mine.

Thank you.

I wanna start by asking you something.

What does family mean to you?

Is it somebody you’re born into Or is it somebody who stands by you no matter what?

For me, family isn’t just about a last name.

I’m an only child and growing up without siblings taught me a lot about the importance of showing up, not just for family but for others and understanding what really matters family is about the people you show up for the ones who depend on you and the ones you choose to stand beside through the good days and especially the hard ones To me, it’s also where love, responsibility, connection, and perseverance all come together.

I am a first generationation Mexican American born in Flagstaff, Arizona to parents who carry traditions, values, and resilience of their homeland a few months after I was born, my family migrated back to their home village of Santa Rosa saccas located in the north central region of Mexico I spent my earliest months and years surrounded by sights, sounds, and flavors of our culture la cultura Mexicana.

I can still remember the smell of fresh tortillas in the morning from the tortilla shop next door to our family home the laughter of neighbors in the dirt roads and the rhythm of life that taught me lessons about connection and care at around the age of seven, my mother and I moved to Los Angeles, California and honestly, I hated it at first.

I had gone from a small village to a huge busy city from dirt roads to paved streets from cows and horses, roaming freely to motor vehicles and crowds of strangers.

Everything was unfamiliar a new school, new faces, and a new language I struggled to find my place while trying to hold on to the culture that I came from over time I started to adjust because I realized that the neighborhood I lived in had people who shared the same traditions, foods and valuesues I grew up with in Mexico, hearing Spanish being spoken, smelling homemade tamales during the holidays, and seeing familiar celebrations made me feel at home.

I also made friends who became like family, and their support and kindness helped me feel like I truly belonged in this city.

Then at the age age of 13, we moved to Flint, Michigan snow for the first time unfamiliar streets, new schools, and a city facing real economic struggles.

I felt out of place, and I felt like I didn’t quite belong anywhere.

This was a real struggle, and I didn’t understand why.

Flint was a complete culture shack, not like Mexico where life was full of warmth and community and not like California, where I had just started to adjust to the city life.

I was raised by a single mother and being an an only child.

I mean, what resilience truly feels and looks like.

My mom worked long long hours to make sure we had what we needed.

I could still hear the sound of her keys jingling at the door.

And see the soft smile she wore while she asked, didid you eat yet, mo?

Even when I knew she hadn’t eaten herself.

Her sacrifices taught me that love isn’t just a feeling.

It’s an action, it’s a showing.

It’s showing up and doing what needs to be done, even when it’s hard.

Watching her, I learned responsibility to take care of what matters, to keep going through challenges, to prioritize family above everything else.

I also have a big extended family, 12 uncles and aunts to be exact, and while I didn’t grow up with a father, I later realized I had father figures all around me.

Sometimes you just don’t realizeize it until you do.

My grandmother was very family orient orientated.

She didn’t play games and family was family, no matter what.

That mindset has guided me through life.

Now as the father of six Those lessons guide me every day.

My home is full of laughter, madness, and chaos.

The sound of little feet running down the hallway, running up the stairs and the front door opening and shutting every five minutes.

Those moments remind me that what life is really about.

I want to give a quick thank you to my fiance, Cara for her support and being part of this journey with me.

Family extends and beyond my home.

I see it every day in my work as the workforce and economic development coordinator at the Latinx Technology and Community Center Inf Flint.

Our center celebrates Latin American culture and Latinx culture, but it’s also a place where people find connection, hope, and opportunity As I say this, I think of an eight year old boy and a single mother who migrated to Michigan a few years ago from Venezuela.

Meeting him really hit home because I was once in his shoes, arriving in a new place, hearing a new language and feeling uncertainty everywhere I’ll never forget that that sad, lost look in his size as he clung to his mom, quietly taking in the room, observing everything around him, just like I once did.

That moment reminded me how important it is to help someone feel seen, valued, and part of a family Flynn itself has contributed to my understanding of family.

It challenged me, but it also shaped me and taught me the meaning of family and ways I hadn’t fully understood before.

The struggles like the economic hardship, environmental environmental justice, and even a global pandemic showed me that family isn’t just about blood.

It’s about showing up, supporting one another, and never giving up, even in the hardest times Some values that guided my home, love, responsibility, and perseverance are the same values I now bring to my community because at the end of the day family isn’t just something you’re born into.

It’s something you build.

It’s the people you care for, the community you strengthen and the love you pass forward.

And for me, that’s’s what give life its true meaning.

Thank you.

Buj.

Walking a path of success in two societies doesn’t seem as complicated as we all think it may be.

In fact, you would assume the same work in both worlds would mean double accomplishments and double gratification The insurmountable feeling overwhelms my ability to thrive in some ways more than others.

In my teenage years, I realized I was different than most of my peers.

Early on in my life, I played sports, learned the importance of leadership, worked hard on my academics, and strived to be the best student athlete I could be.

But at home, I spoke a language of the Inishabe people, worked on powos in Regalias, was taught how to respect Mother Earth and use our traditional medicines.

Monday through Saturday, we practiced the way of our ancestors.

On Sunday, we dressed in our best for church.

We lived a secret indigenous existenceence without anyone in my predominantly white community, knowing.

Over time, I felt stuck in between worlds.

I was too assimilated for my tribal community but too Indian to be recognized by the American standards.

I carried that uncertainty everywhere, the feeling of being unseen, misunderstood, and while having roots in two places, but never feeling firmly planted in either.

I started to see that I didn’t fit into society.

I was being raised in, I was doing everything right, but why did I feel like I was doing everything wrong?

My life was different from my peers, and I knew it had something to do with the reasons I hid my Native American roots from the world.

My mother, Sharon W is a survivor of Holy Childhood, Indian boarding school of Harbor Springs, Michigan.

At the age of nine, my mother and her siblings were four forced to attend.

They cut their hair punished them when they refused to speak English.

She was physically abused when she would cry out for her brother, and their meals were sometimes infested with maggots.

But by the time my mother was 13, she finally was kicked out of holy childhood for continuously trying to fight the nuns.

She started a new life running into institutions and authority by living off the streets of Grand Rapids and as far as Chicago.

Her entire life, she feared, sharing who we were, as the Nishinabe people, constantly in panic that her children in her traditional ways would be stripped from us.

Growing up, I had to make a choice to walk a path as a Nishanabe, or to focus on the wonders of the Western educational systems.

I began to realize I was institutionalized and I didn’t even know it.

and all I wanted to do was rebel.

Not knowing my cultural ide identity silenced my intuition, blocked my dreams, and increased my fears.

At the age of 21, I felt the need to fight against the world that I was constantly trying to make me something I wasn’t.

I abandoned my path in education and decided to learn everything I would need to know about who I was as a member of the Grand Trevers Band of Ottawa Chiba Indians.

The first day I walked into a lodge and heard my people’s way of life.

It sparked understanding back into my spirit.

The smell of the fire, the sound of the laughter, hearing the original language of my people brought clarity.

I realized my adunity and my place in society.

I felt the greatest value any living being could wish for, and that was purpose.

The viability of my cultural identity became one of the most valuable assets.

It deepened my self awareness, strengthened my condition, my connections with others, and fostered a strong sense of resilience It provided a strong foundation for my personal growth by shaping my values and beliefs.

It prompted empathy and respect for appreciation.

Understanding my cultural identity began to preserve my cultural heritage for future generations in all I could think about was, I found out who I was.

Connecting back to my roots allowed my blood memory to heal from my generational trauma.

Instantly, I knew my path moving forward was to ensure that the next generation would experience the same feeling of creation I felt that day.

Upon my journey of discoverance, I knew my ancestors had my back.

Every once in a while, the creator would give me a reminder to stay in the path of healing and teaching.

From the day I received my spirit name, to the day I sat on the edge of a dock with my feet in the water, then having an honor swim past me, knowing the Creator was sending me a message, blessing my path, I began to learn the significance of my journey.

In today’s society, I understand I am not the majority.

I had to come to this conclusion for my ability to code switch, and to understand that my disparities are my superpower.

My life took a turn for the better, once I acknowledged I am a first generation Indian born and school survivor.

Trauma teaches us that healing is not about forgetting, but embracing our past wounds.

It was time for my generationation to break cycles, to be the first that chooses not to be defined by our past, and to have the courage to face the flames.

Today, I serve as the Indigenous Educational Director for Sons Bay Public Schools.

and an advocate in higher education for indigenous people.

statistically, Native American students have historically faced some of the highest high school dropout rates and lowest college enrollment and completion rates among major racial and ethnic groups of the United States.

Healing is about reclaiming our power and rewriting our future.

For me, the most fitting and perhaps most ironic place to be begin that journey was within the very system that once shaped and in some way silenced us, the Western educational system, where we are today Mig.

I remember when I was in middle school.

There was a September when it just kept raining.

I was looking out the window thinking, man, it doesn’t want to quit raining.

Most of you would probably be thinking yeah, it’s a lot of rain, but it’ll quit at some point, and it probably won’t affect me much.

But for my family, it weighed heavily on our minds.

You see, we were cash crop farmers, and one of our major crops was potatoes.

The more it rained then the larger the chance we wouldn’t be able to harvest some of our crop because the field would be too wet.

Or worse, that amount of rain would cause our potato crop to be so saturated, it would rot in the ground.

We ended up getting more than 10 inches of rain in a week’s time.

When it did finally quit raining, we decided to assess the damage to our fields.

All of our fields, but one was going to need a lot of time to dry out before we could even get our equipment out there to harvest what wasn’t already rotted.

The field that we could har harvest was hilly and stony, but it was sandy soil, so we were able to harvest it.

I remembered to this day what my dad said.

We may have hills and stones to contend with on on this field, but I’m glad we have this field, because we can at least get some of our potatoes harvested while the others dry out.

I learned at a young age that if I wanted to be a farmer, I was going to have to be resilient.

You would have to get used to setbacks at times, and problem solving skills would serve me well, but mostly when when things get tough, you have to push through and not be willing to quit Just the nature of the farming business requires large amounts of investment and risk that most people would not be willing to contend with with.

Our investments in equipment, land, fertilizer, seed, and many other things can take years to realize a return and in most cases, the return is a small percentage of the investment.

It takes an understanding relationship with the bank, seed suppliers, fertilizer suppliers, equipment dealers,, etc., etc But most of all, it takes a support of family, such as the one I’m blessed with having, to be able to continue with fulfilling my family dream each year.

I am a second generation farmer, and I have multiple third generation family members wanting to continue farming.

I can honestly tell you that I love what I do.

My grandfather used to say, if you can find something to do that you love and can make a living at it, you’ll never work a day in your life.

Farming presents many challenges.

We have to manage to plant, grow, harvest, and market many crops Our farm has diversified to growing many crops in order to help make us more sustainable.

Besides having to rotate crops in our fields to manage disease, insects, soil erosion, fertility, crop, residue, and many other things, we also grow many crops to help endure changing markets.

When one crop might be able might be below break even to grow, another may return a profit.

The idea is that it helps us even out our cash flow as well, since each crop returns payback at differing times of the year Each crop presents new challenges, but some of our investments in equipment and infrastructure overlap.

For example, we can use the same harvester for wheat, corn, and dry beans, and we can also use the same planter for corn, dry beans, and green beans.

At the present time, though, I would say we are facing some of the biggest challenges I’ve faced in my farming career.

Ever since the COVID pandemic, we have had to deal with rising input costs that have gone up substantially each year.

Fertilizer, chemicals, equipment costs, just to name a few have doubledd in price and sometimes more in just the last five years.

Hired labor is more expensive.

The services we need done, such as mechanical repair, have cost us at least 50% more.

Now, I know that inflation has hit hard for everyone, and I’m willing to absorb it along with everyone else.

But we have the unfortunate situation where our farm prices are at the same price they were in the 1970s.

We aren’t able to pass along enough of the input cost to remain profitable, our ability to be resilient to tough challenges is currently being tested.

But we have faced big trials before, and God has always been faithful to see us through I know in my heart that he will see us through these current trials as well.. Jeremiah, 29/11 says, I alone know the plans I have for you, plans to bring you prosperity and not disaster.

Plans to bring about the future you hope for.

In Flippians 467 says,B anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with Thanksgiving, let your request be made to God, and the peace of God, which suppresses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

As I described one of the challenges at the beginning of my speech, and God brought us through that challenge, we have had many challenges of my 30 plus years of farming, and each time God has been faithful to bring us through.

Although I may not know the outcome or the outcome may not be what I thought it would be God promises me in his word that he has plans for me, and he promises me his peace and provision.

I know that he will bring us through this current chanceenge.

Thank you.

So to kick off part two of our evening, I’d like to welcome to the stage, Mr.

Robert La Fave.

Well, my friends call me Bob, but my value has guided me and my career is integrity.

Of course, it started with conversations, I think, and relationships with my grandparents.

This was with my grandfather about doing what’s right, following through on the things that you say that you’re going to do, and doing those things, even when people aren’t even looking.

in my professional career, these leadership traits are molded more by my participation in the Houndstein Center’s Cook Leadership Academy.

I had an opportunity to meet Ralph and share in his vision of creating better leadership to help lead communities forward.

He did so much to help deal with those issues in the 20th century.

And so taking those things in a newly minted MPA from Grand Valley, I started out on trying to find a job.

2007 was not a particularly great time to be looking for a job in Michigan, but I was committed to staying here in the state.

And there was a job opening up in a little town on the western UP called Launce, Michigan Being a young man from down here, I didn’t really know exactly how people up there would feel about a young person from downstate coming and helping them try to run their community.

But I went anyway, thinking, well, at the very least, I will get some interview experience and I will get an opportunity maybe to open up the cabin.

My family has had property up there for a very long time And I remember getting done with the interview, and having to call my mother and say, gee, you know what?

I think I’m going to have a decision I’m going to have to make.

She’s, "WW?"

I’m like, "Well, I think I got that job."

So within a few months, I had packed everything up in my little red car car and was moving up to Launce, Michigan, which had a lot of really, really big challenges for me.

It’s a small, tight knit community, but it’s a very complex place, and I was the ultimate outsider.

I’m not from there, and I didn’t really necessarily understand everything about the community when I first got there But that’s where I think integrity became very, very important.

See, people didn’t know me, but in time, through my actions, words and deeds, they would get to know me better, and they’d get to know that I’m doing things for the right reasons And that integrity has become the currency that I’ve used to get things done for my community and help become an effective leader.

I was considered young, not from there, and I definitely didn’t know how things worked.

So, I mean, I stepped in it many times.

I can’t certainly say I didn’t make a mistake or two along the way, but I remember specifically at a time that I did not hire an individual who was related to somebody.

Instead, I hired the person I believed was the most qualifiedified person Then having that relative of that person show up in my office, slammed the door, and tell me that I need to pack all my stuff up and get back down below the bridge where I belong.

Well, later on, like I said, the more and more people had an opportunity to know me and know what I was about, the more trust was able to be built and the more I was able to get done.

And I like to think that today, having been there now for 18 years I think I’ve more than survived.

The other challenge also is that the northern third of the community is also on the Cab Bay Indian Community’s reservation, and I will tell you that there are no textbooks for dealing with managing relationships and building bridges with a sovereign nation.

That creates issues, but also opportunities.

In some cases, not knowing why it is that we don’t do certain things or why certain things do happen and understanding and having the patience to understand that maybe the reason why something isn’t happening is because of something that happened 50 years ago, that you weren’t a part of, and it’s not personal, but something that perhaps the community is not ready to have the conversation to do, but perhaps down the road those bridges can be built and those things can happen.

So I had to work across these different cultures myself, coming into the community to to be an effective leader.

And it led to many outstanding projects, probably my favorite as a community solar project that we did.

We’re a town of 2,000 people It’s a big undertaking, but we worked with a local university and other partners to help design a program working directly with the community, to design a program that made sense for everybody.

that offered envill financing options for those that didn’t have the dollars to participate right away, but would like to participate and try to get this thing off the ground.

This is something I really wanted to do, but I also was really conf concerned that this might turn into my albatross on the hill.

So we’re trying to find a way to right size this.

And I think one of the greatest things that’s ever happened as far for me personally, and I know it’s a big deal for the community, but we were able to successfully build this project.

And when folks had commented in the flyers that we sent out, that they would participate in the program, for me, the most reassuring moment was when everybody came in and they did exactly what they said they were going to do So we have 100% subscribe program that is part of an answer, I think, to dealing with some very large issues at a local level and is helping to make our community a better place.

So the average city manager’s life, if anybody wants to know, is about three years in a place.

So I’m proud to say that I am today in front of you, the longest serving city manager in the upper Peninsula this time.

Thank you.

I love West Michigan, and she’s loved me back for almost 20 years.

But I’m not from here.

I’m a happy transplant from Chicagooland who came over to start a new life and blend two families.

My second husband and I merged our kids together in this beautiful area that has taught me so much and shown me so much that I have come to love and value.

I grew up across the lake, and like many suburban kids on the outskirts of a big city, I was well loved, well fed, and well educated.

The standard in our home was that if you wanted something, you found a way to work for it A whole lot of how I see the world, too.

today is from those early service jobs as a teen.

Working as a waitress, in retail, and as a very charming cheese hostess.

It’s eye opening as a young person when when you realize you thrive in service, and that being faster, friendlier and more efficient than your coworkers makes a difference.

Being effective in service is powerful.

When I got to college, I quickly learned I needed to do something with my spare time other than sit in the bar with my friends getting happy I applied for a work study program for credit and the cash, of course, at the health center on campus.

I took the tour, spent a couple of hours with the staff caring for sick patients, and went home thinking I could not wait to get back.

I loved it, way more fun than being in the bar.

Shortly after that that day, I learned I didn’t get that work study position, but that didn’t matter.

I wanted to be there and be part of that team, even if I needed to volunteer my time.

Fast forward 45 years, I’m still in the medical field after an assortment of fascinating jobs, now working in an award winning private medical practice as part of a care management team Here’s what I’ve learned about me through the years.

I’m drawn to service, and I love to serve the unwell.

One reason is because the need for nurses is always great, but the other reason that is so striking to me is that there is no status when we’re sick There’s no CEO in that wheelchair, there’s no famous astrophysicist on that gurney.

There’s no NBA players spilling out of that hospital bed.

They are all just patients needing medical care, and I can do that.

Human illness is a great equalizer.

Hospital robes are a great equalizer.

When people are ill, they generally don’t have the energy to be critical, well, perhaps about hospital food It’s the importance of a life interrupted that is their concern.

It’s humbling.

Some are being humbled with illness for the very first time in their lives.

We understand that people behave differently when they’re hurting.

It’s a privilege to assist people who are unable to care for themselves, and if they are grateful for your being there, that’s the reward Caring for people takes you into some very interesting places, places that are often teach you more about yourself than your patients.

Being part of a care team, you learn you can borrow each other’s courage when you need it.

The courage to enter into a poor Appalachian home to do wellbeing checks on all 10 people inside the courage to do night shifts in a shelter for terrified women and children escaping abuse.

The courage to enter an ICU family waiting room after an unthinkable tragedy, has occurred to provide comfort.

I don’t have that kind of courageage on my own, but I drew it from my team and from my personal source of comfort and strength, which is my faith.

In times of difficulty and sorrow, it’s my faith that propels me.

It compels me to serve.

I believe for most of us, our souls know to seek what this world cannot give.

When people are in crisis where we<unk>re often reaching for something to grab onto, and for me, years ago, I grabbed onto Christ.

In my work, there is nothing more meaningful than being present when somebody knows the end is near.

Over the years, there have been a few folks who ministered to me by the bedside in their last moments, while actively dying I’ll never forget them, their profound peace and their confidence in eternity.

I wanted that confidence, too.

They each taught me in in their own way, that that gift was there for me, as it is for anyone who seeks it.

Our human condition is filled with pain.

Confusion, conflict, blame, we all know it, we’ve all been to that dark place before.

I believe it’s these experiences that unite us give us opportunities for connection and the ability to care for one another.

I believe we’re all called to some sort of service, whether professional or private Some gravitate towards leadership, while others thrive on being invisible worker bees.

My heart is full of admiration for those willing to insert themselves into crisis situations to serve those in deepest need We really are made stronger when we serve.

To my friends who dive into foster home situations, adopt medically desperate children who find room in their homes for just one more.

more.

You are my heroes.

Other, more ordinary, but just as important ways to serve, can look like hospitality, opening our homes to others, packing lunch bags, reading to kids at the library, being companions to the elderly.

My personal family has shown me beautiful example of service going back generations.

I’m proud of my parents for the qualities they instilled in us.

And I’m certain one of the reasons I’m here in Michigan at all is because the man I married has served others in quiet ways for years a very attractive quality to me.

The Bible urges us to serve the Lord and one another with gladness, to build each other up, and research has shown that service to others lifts depression and anxiety.

What other reasons do we need?

I have a dear childhood friend who years ago lost her youngest child very suddenly.

She went into a deep and profound depression for months after his death.

The rest of the family and her friends could only watch as she sank into deeper isolation.

We prayed hard for her.

One day, the following year, she was approached by a stranger in a grocery store, who had said she was a grandparent of one of her kids’ friends She knew her story, she knew the sorrow, as she had lost a young child, too.

The older woman suggested the idea of a specific grief support group Today, my friend now runs that support group and all of the grief groups in the area serving thousands.. To this day, Linda still swears that that sweet lady in the store was an angel that brought her out of the dark and back to life.

This very building that we’re enjoying tonight is because of someone’s desire to serve.

Much of this city was built in service, and how fortunate are we to benefit from the public leaders with private hearts to give back?

Yes, I have many reasons to love Michigan and all that she keeps showing me.

Thanks for listening.

I want to share something deeply personal, my journey with education, not just the kind found in textbooks or classrooms, but the kind that transforms you.

It challenges you and ultimately helps you become someone you never imagin you could be.

My relationship with education became like most kids, routines expected, almost mechanical.

I went to school because I had to.

But everything changed when I moved to apology public middle school.

The transition was jarring.

I faced being bullied, isolation, and a deep sense of not fitting in I remember sitting at lunch, pertaining to school through my my phone, to just avoid eye contact.

I didn’t feel safe.

I didn’t feel seen.

That’s when I first realized that education is just by academics.

It’s about belonging.

High school brought even greater challenges.

My mom was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer.

I watched her fight with everything she had while I tried to keep up with classes and maintain a sense of normalcy.

She was my rock, and suddenly everything felt unstable.

When she passed away, the grief hit during the pandemic, a time when the world was already upside down.

I didn’t just feel sad, I felt lost.

I slipped into a deep depression, I stopped caring about school I stopped caring about myself.

I remember waking up and staring at the ceiling, wondering what the point was.

I had no motivation, no energy, no direction.

But my school didn’t let me fall.

Teachers checked in, counselors listened, my classmates showed up in ways I never expected The support taught me something profound.

Education can be a lifeline.

It can be a community, it can be healing, and slowly I became to talk again, to write again, to show up again.

Every time I did, someone was there to say, we’re glad you’re here.

There were moments when I questioneded everything, my path, my purpose, even my worth.

While I was a late night text from a friend, a quiet encouragement from a professor, or a memory of my mom’s strength.

I kept going.

I learned that education isn’t linear, it’s a full of setbacks, doubts and breakthroughs.

And those moments of struggles taught me more than any textbook ever could.

Despite everything, I kept going.

I owned a full ride scholarship to Grand Valley State University through the Barrow Creek Scholars Program, a community driven initiative that sports students from Barr Creek Central High School, for serring degrees.

I remember the moment I got the email, sitting on my bed, handshaking, staring at the screen, and I felt chosen.

I felt like maybe, just maybe, I belonged.

Still, the transition to college wasn’t easy.

I spent many nights wondering, do I really belong here?

I didn’t have many friends at Fris and the transition was lonely.

That’s when Stephanie, my visor, stepped in.

She became my school mom guided me, encouraged me, reminding me that I wasn’t alone.

She didn’t just help me act dimally.

She helped me emotionally, spiritually, and personally.

She saw me, I couldn’t see myself, and lo her, I found An Nella family, the Bing Sc was program.

That program just didn’t give me a scholarship, it gave me a community.

We a cohort, about six cohorts with 60 students, all from the Barrack Central High School, all navigating college together.

We check on our each other, so each other wins, and with and lift, each other is growing losses It’s not just a support, it’s belongings., and changed my life.

One of the most powerful lessons I learned is that success isn’t just personal.

It’s collective.

I carry the hope of my family with me, my dad, who works tirelessly, loves me unconditionally, shows me what quiet strength looks like.

My sisters, who cheered me on through every milestone, reminded me that joy is meant to be shared.

My grandparents, uncles, and cousins, a big, beautiful family, have been my foundation.

Their love is woven into every achievement, every step forward, and I’m not here alone.

I’m here because of them.

As I found my footing, I met Professor.

Pierce, who opened my eyes to new possibilities.

My hospitality and tours management major gave me tools to understand service leadership and the power experience My psychology major helped me understand people, their motivations, their struggles, and the potentials, and came to the National Association of Student Person Administrative Conference in Denver this past summer with established Stephaniene, Charlotte, and Avery, which was a turning point in my journey.

I arrived in Denver, not knowing what to expect.

I was surrounded by professionals, grad students, and leaders in students fear, and for a moment I wondered if I blend in or disappear.

But something shipped.

People start coming up to me after panels asking about my perspective and want to hearing more.

I felt seen, I felt popular For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.

It was nothing like middle school when I felt like I faded into the background.

Immersed in workshops, panels, and conversations, sit on students’ wellbeing, equity in leadership.

I began to see higher education, not just as a system, but as a space where people like me could make a meaningful impact.

I realize how compassion, community, and purpose driven space spaces can shape the students’ experiences not just academally, but motion and socially.

That conference in it teached me, it formed me.

It was in Denver that I realized my dual background in psychology and hospitality wasn’t just relevant.

It was needed.

Now I’m preparing to go to grad school and higher education because I want to be that person for someone else, that one who says, you belong here.

I want to help students who feel lost, who are grieving, who are questioning their place.

I want to build programs that sports students not just activeally, but emotionally and socially because I lived it.

I felt the power of teacher kindness and advisor guidance and a community embrace.

So when I say I value education, I don’t mean grades or degrees.

I mean the teachers who stayed after class, the viruses who became family the classmates who showed kindness, the moments of the doubts that turned to growth.

Education gave me a new version of myself, and I want to pass that gif on.

Thank you.

Beloved, as the afternoon has turned the evening, we’ve heard phenomenal testimonies of my colleagues that have opened our hearts, our minds, and souls to views about this process of listening.

Well, I’m persuaded that listening is imperative to the human condition.

As humans, we’ve learned the need at times to sit and to listen for some to God or a deity, a group of persons and even ourselves, in order to get through trying times in our lives.

I personally stand upon the shoulders of one whom, as a preacher, politician and gentleman, made a difference in my views towards relationships in the personhood of Reverend Lyman Parks, Sr., the first African American city, commissioner, and only African American mayor, thus far here in Grand Rapids, and a dear friend, of President Gerald Ford.

I was blessed to know him and affectionately call him Grandpa Parks.

Based upon a lifetime of familial ties starting as a teenager.

Who knew that 30 years later, I would be assigned to the area to follow in his footsteps and pastor the African Methodist Episcopal Church he loved first community here in Grand Rapids.

Known for his political savviness and racial reconciliation compassion, Reverend Parks made an evening drive from the heart of the southeast side of Grand Rapids to the suburb of Ada to have a bold conversation with Rich Devosce about investing in the Pantline Hotel, which would become the Amway Grand and changed the trajectory and the development of our beloved downtown Grand Rapids.

In one of Reverend Park’s last interviews, given on his 90th birthday after preaching a sermon at First Com community, Reverend Parks encouraged others by saying that we need to learn to help people become better, better people than be better ourselves.

I believe that being better comes by listening, for I am convinced that listening is also indicative of individualistic insight and building social capital.

For the building of social capital calls for right us to be aware of every opportunity that is presented unto us to learn how to value the power of personal relationships.

I wonder if you would have the confidence to imagine if you will on this evening.

Seeing a pastor take off his robe, leave a sanctuary, and then put on a bulletroof vest, showing up to a roll call of police officers that are willing to put their lives in harm’s way in order to protect and serve.

I wonder if you would be willing to take a risk to do as I do, oh so often.

And by the way, walk into a room full of officers that don’t look like you.

but look right at you.

They know that you are present for a ride along and desiring to establish the very means for a communal exchange, and an accountability experience.

Some may find this quite intriguing To be present amongst officers that carry guns with handcuffs, pepper spray, and you only have a vest, your cl on patrol shirt plus a host of prayers togetherether in a place in a space where life and death are in your collection collective grasp where conversations come and go between the racing down the street to a domestic abuse call, pick it up someone who sees you and says, sir, I’ve seen you before, listening to disagreements between a mother and a child and a grandmother, because the child does not want to go to school.

Hearing them say, with tears in their eyes, <unk>Officer clergy on patrol, we’re really good people Pray for us, please.

It’s not always like this.

Re Realizing that no one is above the law, not even in the outpouring of honest deliberations found within a hollowed squad car, as we witnessed the transformation of an unknown officer and our pastor turning into confidence, confidants which leads to friendship, that began through the sharing about one’s upbringing and love for sports and family members and an occasional taste of brown libations Yet building up enough trust to roll up the window in conversation, disclosing about challenges in one’s marriage, and even the attempt to have a child through the need for IVF.

All of a sudden, a rush of emototions comes upon me in the midst of the conversation, and my heart begins to sink and sweat fills my brow and my eyes become wet because I too share an understanding what he’s going through, because he’s telling my story.

Here I am remembering and sharing how I had to help and watch my wife at times, put injections into her body standing and watching her at the pharmacy counter writing checks for thousands of dollars for medications, with tears running down her cheeks and hopes of becoming a parent.

Then to hear the doctor say, congratulations as we watched our only child move on the sonogram and then be born.. And to find out that the same officer and his spouse would eventually do the same.

I’ve come to acknowledge that the silence in between our conversations can lead to unimaginable support and amazing solace along our life journeys, knowing that we are not alone.

As people, we have more things in common than we do differently.

For listening and steals the courage and strength and wisdom for us to be able to unmask and unite together as one.

Sometimes we have to just say less and listen more, to grow authentic relationships and be real one with another.

So listen to the angst and the anxiety of the fearful fellow who has fallen on hard times.

Listen to the cries of the mother and the father broken because their child was murdered in the street streets, unexpectedly.

Listen to the dreams and the visions of the excited new citizen, listened to the joy of children playing with laughter in your neighborhood that makes your heart smile.

For a roller coaster of emotions can still produce a host of blessings that calls you to hear your own heartbeat with appreciation because you can admit that you see God.

You feel the pain of your friend, and you hear your beloved.

So hush.

Hush.

Somebody’s calling your name, and you can hear it if you just take more time to listen.

I guess Grandpa Park Parks was right.

We could help people become better people, and we become better if we just listen.

Listen, listen.

Thank you.

At this time, I’d like to invite you all of our speakers to join me back up on the stage Sam, Mona, Jose, Samantha, Darwin, Robert, Liza, Noah, and Willie Thank you to you all for your stories, your bravery, your perspectives, and your presence with us this evening.

This has been truly powerful and I’m so filled with gratitude for each and every one of you, for who you are and what you have shared with us this evening.

So, friends, at long last, will you please join me in thanking our speakers?

And we also must thank you to our incredible audience of listeners.

We’re going to have our speakers remain up here for a quick photo op, but I now have the joy of turning you all towards one another as we get to share a delicious family style meal together, and this is an important portion of our evening for what is more human than to be with one another and to say things like, please pass the green beans.

Thank you again to our speakers and to you all for coming and being a part of this powerful night of storytelling and listening.

Please enjoy your meals and company with one another.

Thank you.

Thank you.