One thing I’ve learned about myself over the years is this: I’ve always been drawn to the places where the need is most visible. Not because it’s easy or comfortable, but because that’s where people matter most.
Volunteering has never been about checking a box for me. It’s been about paying attention. Looking around. Asking, “What’s missing here, and how can I help?”
When I lived in Florida, I saw a community shaped by retirement, aging, and transition. Around that same time, I was also navigating the loss of my father, and with it, a deep desire to stay close to him in any way I could. Hospice felt like a natural place for my heart to land. Sitting with people at the end of their lives changes you. It teaches you patience, humility, and the power of simply being present. In hospice, there’s nothing to fix and nothing to rush. There’s just time, dignity, and compassion. That experience taught me that sometimes the greatest service we can offer is to sit quietly with someone and remind them they are not alone.
In Massachusetts, my volunteer work looked very different, but the lesson was the same. I volunteered with Special Olympics and participated in Tough Mudder events. If you’ve never experienced a Tough Mudder, it’s important to know this: those races aren’t about winning. They’re about teamwork. The course is intentionally designed so that no one can finish alone. There are walls you can’t climb by yourself, obstacles you can’t cross without a hand, moments where progress only happens if everyone helps everyone else.
That stuck with me. It’s a powerful reminder that success is rarely an individual effort. When we lift together, we all move forward. That mindset, shared responsibility, and collective effort, is something I carry into every community I’m part of.
In Houston, the need was impossible to ignore. Food insecurity. Families are working hard and still struggling to put meals on the table. So, I volunteered at food banks. It was honest work, packing and unpacking boxes, sorting food, and serving others. It reinforced a simple truth: people don’t need judgment. They need support. They need systems that work. And they need leaders who understand the reality of everyday life.
Here in Galveston, my volunteer efforts have been rooted in care for the place we all share. I’ve worked with local beach cleanup initiatives because our island is more than a destination, it’s our home. Protecting it isn’t optional. It’s our responsibility to each other and to future generations.
More recently, I’ve stepped into a new role as President of a 501(c)(3) organization that works with lower-income schools and daycares to teach our next generation about healthy eating and exercise. Investing in kids, especially those who may not have access to those resources, is one of the most meaningful ways we can shape the future. When children are supported early, they carry those lessons with them for life.
All of this work has something in common: it’s not about me. It’s about listening. It’s about showing up. It’s about putting in the time and doing the work, even when no one is watching.
City Council in Galveston is a volunteer position. That matters to me. Service without personal gain is something I understand deeply. I’m not afraid of working hard. I’m not afraid of committing time. I’m not afraid to listen, especially when the conversations are difficult.
District 6 deserves someone who sees service as a responsibility, not a title. Someone who understands that progress happens when we work together, support one another, and refuse to leave people behind.
My hope, for District 6 and for Galveston, is a future where everyone has a fair chance to succeed, where help is accessible, and where leadership is rooted in empathy, action, and care for the community we all call home.
That’s the kind of work I’ve always been drawn to. And it’s the kind of work I intend to keep doing.
Next time, I’ll tell you why I call Galveston my home.