When my wife passed away, I started spiraling. Drinking, fighting, doing whatever I could to fill the void. Eventually I got clean for our kids and buried myself in work, but I knew something was still off. So I started volunteering with a South Dallas nonprofit that mentored men coming out of prison, and for the first time in a long time, I felt peace. They were just putting one foot in front of the other, like I was. It was grounding. So I kept showing up.
That’s when I felt called to move into the Bonton neighborhood full-time. In 2011, I sold my home and found a spot through Habitat for Humanity. The only catch was, there was no electricity and I’d be roommates with a man who had just come out of prison... I said yes.
At first, the neighbors didn’t trust me. I was the only white guy in the neighborhood, and everyone thought I was a cop. But over time, our porch became a gathering place. People started talking, sharing stories, connecting. I could see how much they were hurting.
I didn’t know Bonton was a food desert. My new friends said if they couldn’t find a job, they’d end up dead or back in prison, and at first I thought that was the main problem. But as I got to know them, I realized it went deeper. People didn’t just need a job, they needed access to real food. They taught me about food deserts and their impact on health. So I started a garden, hoping it could grow both food and résumés.
Today, that little garden has become more than 40 acres of urban farmland, plus a café, coffee house, innovative affordable housing, a financial wellness center, and a health center all rooted in one simple idea: when people are given a chance to work, grow, and belong, an entire community can heal.
People like Doris prove that. She’s lived in South Dallas since she was a kid, and when she joined the team nine years ago, she helped turn that patch of dirt into a pillar for the community. Folks like her are why I keep showing up. They’re the heart of Bonton Farms.
That’s when I felt called to move into the Bonton neighborhood full-time. In 2011, I sold my home and found a spot through Habitat for Humanity. The only catch was, there was no electricity and I’d be roommates with a man who had just come out of prison... I said yes.
At first, the neighbors didn’t trust me. I was the only white guy in the neighborhood, and everyone thought I was a cop. But over time, our porch became a gathering place. People started talking, sharing stories, connecting. I could see how much they were hurting.
I didn’t know Bonton was a food desert. My new friends said if they couldn’t find a job, they’d end up dead or back in prison, and at first I thought that was the main problem. But as I got to know them, I realized it went deeper. People didn’t just need a job, they needed access to real food. They taught me about food deserts and their impact on health. So I started a garden, hoping it could grow both food and résumés.
Today, that little garden has become more than 40 acres of urban farmland, plus a café, coffee house, innovative affordable housing, a financial wellness center, and a health center all rooted in one simple idea: when people are given a chance to work, grow, and belong, an entire community can heal.
People like Doris prove that. She’s lived in South Dallas since she was a kid, and when she joined the team nine years ago, she helped turn that patch of dirt into a pillar for the community. Folks like her are why I keep showing up. They’re the heart of Bonton Farms.