Who Will Write America’s Next 250 Years?

America has now celebrated the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. The fireworks have faded, the speeches have ended and families have returned to their daily routines. Yet, I believe the most important part of this historic anniversary is only beginning. The question before us is not how we celebrated America’s first 250 years, but how we will help write the next 250.

As I reflected on this milestone, my thoughts returned to an experience that changed my life forever.

Growing up in the inner city of Washington, D.C., my eighth-grade teacher gave our class what seemed like an impossible assignment: write your own obituary.

As I began writing, I found myself putting words on paper that frightened me. I wrote that I would someday live in the Midwest, become involved in politics, lead a community organization and that after my death something would be named after me.

I remember staring at those words in disbelief. None of them made sense. I had never imagined living anywhere but Washington, D.C. Politics was not part of my plans. Leading a community organization seemed beyond anything I could imagine. I even remember grabbing my own writing hand because I wanted it to stop. Yet I continued writing.

Looking back through the eyes of faith, I have come to believe that God was preparing me for a journey I could not yet understand. That is my personal testimony.

Years before that obituary assignment, another experience quietly shaped my thinking. As a sixth-grade student, I read about the Mayo brothers and how they built the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. What impressed me most was not simply the hospital they built, but that they chose a community where they believed they could put their philosophy of serving others into practice. I had no idea that one day I would travel to that very city.

In 1969, football brought me to Rochester, Minnesota, on a scholarship to Rochester State Junior College. I arrived carrying a serious leg injury from high school that threatened my football career. My coach, Cy Champa, took me to the Mayo Clinic, where treatment allowed me to continue playing. Looking back, that opportunity changed the direction of my life. In 1972, I earned a football scholarship to Drake University in Des Moines, Iowa. What began as a dream of playing football became a lifetime of serving communities in Iowa.

Then came 1976 — America’s Bicentennial.

As our nation celebrated its first 200 years, I was beginning my own journey of civic engagement. I served as Minority Education Coordinator for the Iowa Jimmy Carter presidential campaign and organized Concerned Citizens for Minority Affairs, an effort that later evolved into the Brown & Black Forums of America.

Looking back today, I find that timing remarkable. America was celebrating its history while I was just beginning what would become more than fifty years of public service.

Over the decades, I was blessed to help found Urban Dreams, serve in the Iowa Legislature, and work with extraordinary people committed to expanding opportunity. During my legislative service, I helped develop Iowa’s Racial Impact Statement process because I believed government should carefully consider the potential consequences of legislation before it becomes law. That belief still guides me today — understanding should come before decision-making.

The Brown & Black Forums of America grew far beyond anything I could have imagined when that work began in 1976. Today, it is recognized as the nation’s oldest ongoing minority-focused presidential forum and is among the longest-running presidential forums in America. In 2020, the Iowa Brown & Black Presidential Forum, produced along with VICE News, received a News & Documentary Emmy Award. That recognition was never simply about an award. To me, it affirmed that ideas born in Iowa could help strengthen our democracy.

When I wrote my obituary as an eighth-grade student, I believed that something would be named after me after I died. I never imagined that God would allow me to witness such blessings during my lifetime. Today, the Wayne Ford Equity Impact Institute bears my name, and Urban Dreams dedicated the Wayne Ford Courtyard in my honor on Sixth Avenue, where the organization continues serving the community more than forty years after its founding. Those recognitions do not fill me with pride as much as gratitude.

Years later, award-winning journalist Dan Rather selected my story for his bestselling book “The American Dream.” The obituary assignment that had shaped my own life also became part of educational conversations connected with that work.

As I look back, I realize that none of these accomplishments belonged to me alone. Every meaningful step involved parents, teachers, coaches, mentors, colleagues, neighbors, and communities that believed in giving people opportunities to grow.

I often think about another childhood memory. My family tells me that when I was about five months old, a photographer could not get me to sit still until someone placed a set of keys in my hands. Looking back through the eyes of faith, those keys have become a symbol for me.

America’s first 250 years have included extraordinary achievements as well as painful chapters. We cannot change our history, but we can learn from it.

As an African American who came from Washington, D.C., to build a life in Iowa, I have always understood that opportunity is not equally available to everyone.

As a Christian, I believe every person is created in the image of God and possesses gifts that can make a difference in the lives of others.

When I look back at the obituary I wrote as an eighth-grade student, I realize that, by God’s grace, I have been blessed to fulfill every major aspiration I wrote on that paper.

If there is one lesson I hope readers take from my story, it is this: You do not have to be wealthy to make a difference. You do not have to be famous to serve your community. You simply have to be willing to use the gifts God has entrusted to you in service to others.

America’s next 250 years will be written by millions of ordinary citizens who choose to do extraordinary acts of service.

If one young person reads these words and begins asking, ‘What is my purpose?’ then this article will have accomplished exactly what I hoped it would.

That, to me, is the enduring promise of America.

Now it is our turn to help write America’s next 250 years