"Dr. Presti, there's a call for you on line two. It's an Aaron Jackson," my receptionist's voice crackled through the intercom.
I frowned, the name vaguely familiar. "Aaron Jackson?" I muttered as I picked up the phone. "This is Dr. Presti."
"Dr. Chuck? It's Aaron Jackson. Do you remember our conversation about a year ago at my grandfather's funeral?"
The memory suddenly flooded back – the funeral, the passionate young man, our lengthy discussion about changing the world. I recalled the earnestness in his eyes, the way he spoke with conviction beyond his years, sharing stories about his grandfather’s relentless passion for life. A mix of emotions washed over me: surprise at this unexpected call, curiosity, and a twinge of regret.
"Aaron! It's been a while. How have you been?" I managed to respond, my mind racing to recall the details of our interaction.
"I'm doing well, thank you. Dr. Chuck, I'm calling because I need your help. Remember how we talked about making a difference? Well, I've found a way to do that, and I was hoping you'd join me."
As he spoke, there was a sense of urgency and hope in his voice—a spark that reignited memories of our first conversation. His words hung in the air, and I felt a knot forming in my stomach. What could this young man, barely out of high school, be proposing? And why did I have the sense that whatever it was, it would be far outside my comfort zone?
Little did I know that this phone call would change the course of my life, Aaron's life, and countless others.
As I spoke to Aaron, my mind drifted back to that day at the funeral. We had lost a dear friend suddenly. He was a brilliant man, gifted in his profession as an architect and in many of life's pursuits—an artist, a craftsman—a true modern-day Renaissance man. There, at his memorial service, was the setting where it all began. The end of one man's chapter and the beginning of another's.
During this service, I spoke at length with his grandson, Aaron Jackson. Aaron was a recent high school graduate, and as we talked, he spoke of his grandfather's inspirations and tireless pursuits. His grandfather's boundless energy had clearly left a mark on the young man. Aaron shared his passion to serve those less fortunate, working part-time helping the homeless and, at times, even sleeping in the shelter. To make ends meet, he also worked as a caddy, earning extra income while gaining a sense of responsibility and discipline. It was clear he had a deep desire to make a difference. A truly heartfelt conversation—two generations connecting over shared hopes for a better world. I was in my early 40s at the time, immersed in my private practice, and it felt like I had just met a kindred spirit.
Now, months later, out of the blue, I received his call at my office. Aaron reminded me of our conversation, saying how much it had meant to him. He had heard about a very poor area in Haiti where people were struggling and suffering. With calm confidence, he told me he wanted to set up a clinic there and asked if I would join him. He had the backing of a missionary on-site but needed a physician to complete the project.
I was taken aback. Here was a 20-year-old, barely out of high school, proposing something I had never even imagined. Neither of us had been to Haiti, or to any other developing country for that matter. My first thought was, how could someone so young possibly know how to handle this? I couldn't help but think back to myself at 20, and I was nowhere near capable of doing something so ambitious. His youthful idealism, curiosity, and empathy were profound, but was it rational? Reasonable? Realistic?
I wrestled with the idea. Logic, past experiences, and fears told me that this was impossible and a recipe for disaster. But there was something about Aaron's voice, a certainty that cut through my doubts. In that moment, it felt as though the universe had orchestrated this call, connecting me to a purpose I hadn’t known I was searching for. It was a moment of magic—one where faith spoke louder than fear. I sought guidance through faith, and I said yes in a leap of trust. I chose to believe in his vision, and we set off to Haiti together. Though I'd be lying if I didn't say I was scared as crap!
I will never forget my first sight of Cité Soleil. It was not a city as most would imagine—it's a slum. Crowded, hot, and desperate. The "homes" were makeshift structures of rusted tin, plastic sheets, and cardboard, barely able to stand against the elements. When it rained, everything turned to mud, sewage, and garbage. It was a place that seemed beyond hope, and yet, there we were, trying to set up a temporary medical clinic. Hoping to make a difference in a sea of challenges.
For three days, we saw over a hundred patients each day. Mothers brought in sick children, elders came in suffering from diseases that would have been easily treated in America. But this wasn't America. One baby, in particular, was barely holding on. His mother was too ill to feed him, and without her milk, he was wasting away. I watched as Aaron cradled that fragile child, doing what he could. His face carried a mix of hope and heartbreak—a look I would see often in Haiti. And yet, despite everything, the people still smiled. What struck me most was how they managed to show kindness, even in the worst of circumstances.
One evening, we attended a local church service after a long day at the clinic. The building was modest, but the voices that filled it were anything but. Despite the suffering we had witnessed, the space was filled with a chorus of love and faith. The congregation sang with the most beautiful voices I had ever heard—songs that seemed to rise from the depths of their hearts, praising God and life. Their music lifted the weight of everything we had seen, transforming it into something sacred.
Those memories stayed with me long after I returned home. I thought often about that baby, the people we met, and especially about Aaron. How could someone so young have such clarity of purpose, such fearlessness in the face of overwhelming need?
As it turned out, Aaron Jackson would go on to inspire countless others. After our first visit, he returned, and within a short period, he established orphanages in Haiti, providing safety and care for children in need, expanding into a global movement of compassion and advocacy. While caddying, Aaron befriended a professional basketball player whose roots were in Haiti. Hearing of Aaron’s vision, he contributed a substantial donation that helped turn dreams into reality. In 2007, Aaron was named a CNN Hero for his work through Planting Peace, the nonprofit organization he founded.
Planting Peace grew to tackle a variety of pressing social issues, from deworming programs to environmental conservation and disaster relief. But one of Aaron's most powerful gestures came in 2013 when he painted a house in rainbow colors and established the "Equality House" directly across from the Westboro Baptist Church, symbolizing peace, love, and support for the LGBTQ+ community. It was a bold act of defiance, one that captured the world's attention and showed how a single act of love could counter hate.
Through his work, Aaron embodied the ripple effect of transformation. He took a leap of faith—when passion and purpose overrode fear and uncertainty. What I saw in him that day at the funeral was only a glimpse of what he would become: a beacon of hope for many. His faith in the good he could do was the spark that ignited a movement, and I'm grateful to have witnessed the beginning of it. It was through Aaron's unyielding belief that I, too, found the courage to step outside my comfort zone, and together, we created something meaningful.
Looking back, I realize that taking that leap with Aaron wasn’t just about helping others—it was about finding a part of myself I hadn’t known existed. In moments of doubt and uncertainty, it was his faith that led me to discover courage I never thought I had. History is full of such examples—Joan of Arc at 17, Martin Luther King Jr. at 26, and Malala Yousafzai at 15. Like them, Aaron showed that it is often the youngest among us who have the clearest vision of what is possible, and through their courage, they invite the rest of us to see the world in a new light.
Aaron's journey is a testament to how acts of compassion, no matter how small, can grow into something extraordinary. He represents that magnificent moment when faith overrides logic, past experiences, and fear. That moment transformed not just his life but mine, and many others. As I look back, I realize that magic exists in those times when we choose to see past our doubts and embrace the possibilities of connection. It’s through these shared experiences that we find unity, purpose, and the courage to inspire others.