There was a time when people thought my position was about money or status. The Special Citizens Centers which we developed with the help of AARP (a parents group fighting for their chirldren’s rights.)
What they didn’t see was how it all began — 4 years of building a coaltion through conversations, planning, and persistence, to even get that far.
Not everyone believed in what I was trying to build. I was building a profitable business through recycling of aluminum cans, batteries and different types of metal.
My local AARP group refused to release the money they had raised.
They were determined to build a thrift store instead.
I saw a different need—and I stayed with it.
We were living on the Flathead Indian Reservation, home of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, where unemployment was around 50%.
This was not just about creating a program.
It was about creating opportunity.
The tribe donated land so we could build something meaningful. A farmer donated his time and equipment to grow corn we could sell in our store.
And what we created did more than serve individuals with disabilities—it helped the entire community.
We employed:
- Individuals with disabilities
- Teen volunteers
- Adults who needed work
We created jobs where there had been very few.
We created purpose where there had been discouragement.
Across the state, families began to support what we were doing.
I wrote grant after grant, and eventually secured $400,000 in funding to help expand these programs.
We built:
- Recycling centers
- A hydroponic greenhouse growing tomatoes nearly year-round
- Work programs that gave people pride in what they could accomplish
But success brought something I didn’t expect.
It brought conflict.
People began to fight for control of what we had built.
It became, in many ways, like “king of the hill.”
Some saw it as a mission.
Others saw it as an opportunity for money and position.
I believed in hiring based on willingness and ability—not on background.
But on the reservation, there were deep divisions.
Some of the Native community had long faced discrimination, even while living side by side with non-Native residents.
I refused to take part in that.
In the end, I lost the position.
The program was divided because the next director said it was too much work to manage as one.
That was hard for me.
Not because I lost the job—
but because I knew what it had taken to build it.
And I knew what it had meant to the people it served.
But even now, I don’t see that time as failure.
Because what we built mattered.
Lives were changed.
People found work.
Communities were strengthened.
And through all of it, there was one constant:
Faith.
People of many beliefs prayed with us and supported what we were doing.
We didn’t always agree on everything—but we agreed that this work had value.
To me, this was never just a program.
It was something built through persistence…
through sacrifice…
and through a prayer that never left my heart.
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