While attending Iowa State University, his family fled Uganda after Idi Amin’s coup d’état leaving Radia with no home to return to. Radia is an Indian who was born and raised in Uganda and came to the U.S. Then, in the business section of the paper, in between the outrage over the GOP tax bill and the Great Recession’s impact on economic disparity between urban and rural areas, there was an article about Suku Radia, the CEO of Bankers Trust, who is retiring. Essentially, it’s an affordable farmers market created because, according to the New Roots website, “Just like air and water, everyone has a right to fresh food” in order to be healthy and happy. In addition to creating low-income housing, Rochman volunteers for New Roots, a nonprofit food justice organization that brings farm-fresh fruits and vegetables to food insecure communities. We do not do everything in our power to house the homeless, feed the hungry, clothe the cold, educate the poor and support each other with the goal of the betterment of everyone-even though it is within our reach.” “Currently, Americans are divided from one another. Our advantages are used of the good of the planet and all its creatures-all people, all living things,” he said, before adding a sobering caveat. “We have a land with vast resources and a people capable of anything. In Rochman’s case, he renovates historic properties into affordable housing. Oh, snap! His comments were my dream verbatim. But, because of that privilege, I have a duty to share and to give back.” The person-of-the-week interviewed was Gregg Rochman, a developer in Louisville, Kentucky, and in the first paragraph he said, “I grew up in an affluent area and I could have done anything I wanted. One of the first articles I read was the “ One Nation: I am an American” column, syndicated by the USA Today Network. Shaking off the heaviness left by the dream, I went downstairs to have coffee and read the Sunday paper. “Pay your civic rent” with a gift card with the request it be regifted to someone in need. The scene was so vivid and visceral-from the walnut paneled-walls and red leather Chesterfield armchair to the woman’s gray hair in a neatly trimmed bob, to the dramatic and forceful delivery of my statement-that, unlike most dreams, I remembered every detail of it when I woke up. I stood next to her delivering an emphatic, tearful plea, insisting, “ When you are born into privilege it is your responsibility to help others less fortunate than you.” Man, I was really crying. On Saturday night I dreamed I was in the elegant living room of an older wealthy woman.
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