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Summer Reading With Meaning: Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and Circle of Global Citizens8/2/2026  By Theresa de Langis, PhD It’s been a wild summer in New England—days of hellish heat and yellowed smokey skies followed by winds carrying sweatshirt temperatures. The weather is apt metaphor for the state of the world. Exhausted by ceaseless vigilance for what comes next and the constant refrain of “this isn’t normal”, it’s easy to lose one’s bearings. I’ve been especially gratified to find a book that proved shelter from the storm, Eleanor Dunfey-Freiburger’s Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and a Circle of Global Citizens. The Dunfey clan is a cornerstone in New Hampshire history. The well-known Irish Catholic family of twelve children began their enterprises with a luncheonette in Lowell, Massachusetts, before opening a sliver of a clam shack in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, eventually evolving into Omni International Hotels. That fantastical trajectory is laid out with careful detail by youngest sibling, Eleanor, over 300 pages drawn as much from scholarly research as from her mother’s own memoir, the poetry of elder sister Kay, and conversations with siblings. By the book’s end, I felt I had become an intimate member of a family built on optimism, gumption and a deep commitment to social justice.  Eleanor Dunfey-Frieburger with her award-winning memoir, "Counter Culture: Clams, Convents, and Circle of Global Citizens." If you’re from the area, you’ll be interested in the book’s local New England history from the 1950s onward. To provide historical reference, the family’s first Hampton Beach venture in New Hampshire charged $1.20 for a plate of “Dunfey’s Famous Fried Clams,” and it was the first establishment to break a ban on selling pizza on the strip due to anti-Italian discrimination. The memoir likewise brings to life seismic historical moments and iconic personalities that span the globe, invited to New England through the hospitality of the Dunfey family—Monica Williams, Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Harry Belafonte, to name a few; the Northern Ireland Peace Talks, the Anti-Apartheid movement in South Africa, and the rise of the Democratic Committee in New Hampshire and nationally were all influenced by one or more Dunfey family member. As the book unfolds, so does the family’s philosophy of “hospitality” as an expression of social justice—the “counter culture” of the book’s title. Rather than structured around events, the memoir is centered on relationships. At the heart of each relationship is the invitation—an unrestricted welcome to “come as you are” (indeed, the Dunfey’s slogan when they owned the historic Lamie’s Inn and Tavern). The book has many such invitations, but one example will suffice.  Days after her husband, Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated, Coretta Scott King needed refuge from national attention and ongoing security threats. An invitation was extended to her and her four young children to spend the summer at the Dunfey family cottage on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire. William Loeb had already editorialized in the Union Leader (the state’s largest, and most conservative, newspaper) that brother Jack Dunfey was holding Communist cell meetings at his home in Durham and “harboring” a black student from Keene who was attending the University of New Hampshire. While the Union Leader knew the King family was somewhere in New Hampshire, the “hiding” place was never divulged until years later, giving time for the family to heal in the embrace of friendship, and Coretta Scott King the time to begin writing her own memoir, "My Life with Martin Luther King, Jr." The Dunfey creed of hospitality is attributed to the author’s parents. All twelve children were expected by father, LeRoy (“Roy”), to work the counters of the family’s several establishments (at times, waking in the middle of the night to make their shifts). According to mother, Catherine (“Kate”), the counter culture their father created is where “all twelve children learned about the world and people’s needs.” Her own personal slogan: “Treat each person as though they are a guest in your own home.” Evocative of a secular radical hospitality, the Dunfey’s counter culture extended unconditional welcome, especially to strangers, centering those marginalized on the fringes of society. The memoir, from its first to last page, shows how such an ethos—whether at a luncheonette or during international peace negotiations—opens space where people, from all walks of life, can be seen, heard and valued. As the Dunfey enterprise moved from “success to significance”, it established the Global Citizens Circle. The non-profit still exists, gathering people from diverse backgrounds, generations and opinions “around the table” to hash out difficult conversations in authentic dialogue. The aim: to build trust, and from trust, change. Circles have been convened around the world and in the United States, bridging differences through relationships (think Protestant and Catholic participants at many Circles in Northern Ireland from the early 1970s on). In a world that runs as hot and cold as today’s, the Dunfey legacy of counter culture, carried forward by Global Citizens Circle, is needed more than ever. The memoir reminds us that we’ve been through divisive times before and have weathered the storm. Global Citizen Circle invites people to find common ground for a shared future as members of an extended family.  “Counter Culture” will leave you smiling with reminisces of mid-century New England and the New Hampshire seashore. More so, you may be inspired, as I was, to a revived optimism, to strike up conversation with a stranger, perhaps even invite them to your home for dinner—for after all, to quote Eleanor, “Life stories evolve from such invitations.” And, the book suggests, so does the world we want to call home. Theresa de Langis, PhD, is an academic, researcher, and policy analyst at the intersection of women’s rights, sexual violence, and post-conflict justice. She’s recently repatriated to the U.S. after living in Cambodia for more than a decade. Dr. de Langis is currently adjunct faculty of the School of Arts, Sciences, and Education at Southern New Hampshire University. She is an Advisory Board Member of Global Citizens Circle since 2025. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. The Dunfey legacy of the Global Citizens Circle is needed now more than ever, where we’ve seemed to have lost the capacity to engage in civil discourse across seemingly intrenched differences." - Theresa de Langis, PhD
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 By George Kinder We have it in our power to begin the world over again. — Thomas Paine I have been concerned for some time about the state of humanity. The feeling has increased over the last 10 years. I am concerned about the things that I care about most, like how we treat each other, the vast inequalities amongst human beings, the state of Mother Earth, democracy, and perhaps most important of all I am concerned about misrepresentations of the truth by those in power, those whom we should most trust in the community we call civilization. Coming out of the banking crisis of 2008, I suspected that although humanity seemed to be polarized, perhaps, in truth, everyone was concerned about the same things. And that we mostly wanted the same solutions. This idea launched my book, “A Golden Civilization & The Map of Mindfulness,” and a book tour to far corners of the globe. As I traveled, I was searching for how to create a vision strong enough that the whole world would act on it. To test my intuition, wherever I went I invited audiences through a structured exercise, to design their own vision of a Golden Civilization. Sure enough, whether I went to a rich country or to a poor country, and whether I went to a democratic country or a dictatorship or somewhere in between, everywhere people wanted similar things. Everybody wanted less inequality. They wanted adequate healthcare, food, and shelter. They wanted an end to corruption. They wanted an end to racism and to bigotry. They wanted kindness and good humor. They wanted a richness of culture. They wanted to be able to trust their scientists. They wanted trustworthiness everywhere. They wanted all media to tell the truth and to be trustworthy. This discovery was quite wonderful. I captured the vision words, weighted by frequency of use, from the first 20 conversations into a word-cloud shaped like the Earth.  Golden Civilization Conversations Word Cloud: Vision words weighted by the frequency that they came up n conversation during the first 20 Golden Civilization Conversations led by George Kinder around the globe. How self-centered we have been playing one country versus another, one team versus another, one person versus another. For generations, we’ve lived with the notion that evolution is about competition, but it’s much more clearly about Gaia and the creation of expanding environments of freedom. As the world becomes smaller and more accessible to us, it becomes our responsibility to create environments where all creatures thrive. We are being called as a species to deliver a structure of kindness, freedom, innovation, compassion, resilience, and sustainability for the whole Earth, for our descendants, and for all generations to come.
Two hundred and fifty years ago, at the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, there was an explosion of innovation, of creativity, and of the production of material things that would lead humanity to create the world we are now in, enabling many of us to live longer, healthier, and richer lives and be connected to each other all over the world. Clearly, the combination of capitalism, democracy, and the rule of law produced something remarkable, bringing to much of humanity greater longevity, greater leisure, and greater freedoms. But if our system was really the best that there could be, why is it that at the top of every hierarchy of power after these 250 years of innovation, we don’t find the very best of humanity, our wisdom and our compassion? Wouldn’t the best system automatically deliver the very best of humanity into every aspect of our lives? Something at the very base of the system is awry in the design of every organizational structure, something that keeps each institution from acting automatically with wisdom and kindness, so much so that no institution anywhere models it. We are back to the model of competition, where self-interest comes first. Our institutional structures are designed for self-interest to flourish. Rather than virtuous action, it’s self-interest that’s baked in. Think about it. When we give the right to incorporate or the right to govern to a person or an organization, we give the potential for enormous power. And they can leverage that power through hierarchy, minimize the threat of lawsuits with limited liability protection, and get special tax rates. They can further leverage their power to astronomical levels with capital and debt and through their ability to communicate. With all this power at their fingertips, is it any wonder that the production and delivery of humanity’s innovations, although they touch every aspect of our lives, is more tainted by the self-interest of hierarchies than touched by human virtue? For all the power we have granted their self-interest, why don’t we require something of them in return? What if we simply required each of them as a consequence of incorporation, whether they are corporations, nonprofits, or governments, to act in a humane way? Simply require them to be humane. But rather than require something of them, we keep giving more to them. After thousands of years of developing what it is to have secured rights as human beings in relation to the powerful institutions that govern our lives, we’ve granted a lot of those rights back to institutions as if they were human. We have granted them the power to dominate how we think through their ownership or influence of media, including through non-profits and their own advertising. And we’ve granted them the enormous power to influence elections in ways that takes away our democratic freedom. Only now do we realize that in using those rights, some of the most powerful have come to threaten our deepest values, our lives, our democracies, the lives of Earth’s creatures, and the stability of the planet we live on. We feel diminished, as if civilization is not ours but our institutions’. But civilization is ours. It is meant to be a domain of freedom, not for them but for us. It’s time we asked new and existing institutions (corporate, non-profit, governmental) to place humanity first, to place the truth first, to place democracy first, and to place the Earth first ahead of their own self-interest, as a requirement of their existence. This is the essence of the FIAT movement. Here is the simple, one-sentence legislative proposal that requires just that. “A Fiduciary standard of obligation is required for all institutions (corporate, non-profit, and governmental) to place the interests of all stakeholders, of truth, of humanity, democracy, and the living planet that sustains us, first above their own self-interest.” We fought a revolution in America for democracy, to establish human rights, and to free ourselves of the hierarchy of mad King George. But now, as a consequence of our system, we have created many hierarchies as powerful and more. It is time for us as a species to free the world as well as ourselves of the hierarchies that have power over us and that can diminish our freedom and guarantee instead that each of them always works in the best interests of humanity. This simple piece of legislation will make sure this happens. The idea and the language are simple enough to spread across the globe. Through speaking engagements, I’ve shared these ideas, reaching many parts of the world. It’s easy to think of obstacles to the accomplishing of such a human right, but at this stage, it’s the vision that’s most important to establish. A strong enough vision will conquer all obstacles, particularly when it’s the movement of a people, a species, inspired by the same torch. With the richest and most powerful billionaires, companies, and media moguls likely to oppose placing the interests of truth, democracy, Mother Earth, and humanity above their own self-interest, it is imperative we create a huge grass-roots movement toward Fiduciary In All Things becoming the law of the land. Many who first hear the idea don’t understand what the word “fiduciary” means, and to some it can seem controversial. I chose the term “fiduciary” because of its linguistic roots and its legislative usage. Fiduciary is an obligation for trustworthy service to others. At present all corporations have a single fiduciary responsibility. It is to their shareholders. All the power of their hierarchy and leverage is required to maximize profit for their shareholders alone. That is the nub of our problem. For a civilization to be a domain of freedom for all, hierarchies of power must have a fiduciary responsibility to all of us, and to truth and to Gaia and democracy, as well. I’ve been sharing simple statements to help bridge the gap between the term fiduciary and its meaning.
Even more accessible than words for a movement to go viral are images. In the United States, consumers can find a Certified Organic symbol on any organically processed food that is certified by the USDA. This simple symbol indicates to a consumer that the product has fulfilled conditions on how they are produced, processed, transported, and stored. For the Fiduciary In All Things movement, I’ve created easily recognizable symbols that can go on an organization’s website to symbolize that they care about the humane treatment of their employees, of democracy, and of the living planet that sustains them.  Fiduciary In All Things Legislative Proposal: A one-sentence legislative proposal crafted by George Kinder that advocates for all institutions to place the interests of all stakeholders above their own self-interest.  Fiduciary In All Things Globe Logo: A logo that can help spread awareness of the FIAT movement by adding it to your social media posts, websites, headers, and email signatures.  Fiduciary In All Things Square Logo: A logo that can help spread awareness of the FIAT movement by adding it to your social media posts, websites, headers, and email signatures. You can popularize these symbols by sharing them on social media and placing them on your website and in your communications to demonstrate your support of the vision of a fiduciary world. We have a strong vision. Let’s spread it widely. I’m optimistic that we can do this, despite those of enormous wealth and power that would prefer institutions to work solely for them. Already there are significant existing structures that can support the implementation of legislation. They come from the ESG movement, Business Roundtable, B Corps, and many organizations and corporations looking to put humanity’s interests ahead of their own self-interest. Extraordinarily helpful as each of these may be, at this point, establishing the vision is even more important than solving obstacles. It’s time to make Fiduciary In All Things the law of the land, by making its vision ubiquitous and for all people. Imagine all people of the Earth empowered, supported, and inspired, not diminished by the systems that surround them. Just a single sentence legislative proposal can start this and can change the world. Let’s establish the vision. We need all hands on deck. Please join us. Share what #FiduciaryInAllThings means to you. Place the symbols on your social media headers and banners, and on your website. Let’s make it happen. Consider these questions:
International thought leader and author George Kinder has been at the forefront of the financial services industry for decades, spearheading the financial life planning movement that identifies clients’ dreams of freedom and then delivers them with entrepreneurial energy. Through books, workshops, and speaking engagements, George has trained thousands of professionals globally in financial life planning. After 30 years as a financial planner and tax adviser, he founded the Kinder Institute of Life Planning in 2003. In "The Three Domains of Freedom," his latest of 12 books, George advocates a universal fiduciary standard across all institutions. In 2025, he was awarded the Innovator Founder visa by the UK Home Office to bring FIAT directly into businesses globally through transformative workshops and talks. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. “A Fiduciary standard of obligation is required for all institutions (corporate, non-profit, and governmental) to place the interests of all stakeholders, of truth, of humanity, democracy, and the living planet that sustains us, first above their own self-interest.” - George Kinder  By Andrew Boutselis One morning about a year ago, I was drinking coffee in my Brooklyn apartment when there was a knock on the door. My wife had left for the day and we were not expecting any deliveries, so I was naturally perturbed by the disturbance to such a sacred morning ritual. Like most New Yorkers, I contain that paradox of being openly friendly to strangers, while holding any waste of my time in utter contempt. It’s the same trait that leads us to yield to a pedestrian with a pleasant wave yet lean on our horn when they don’t cross the street quickly enough. Closing my robe tightly around my neck, I looked through the peephole to assess the uninvited visitor. Waiting patiently on the other side of the door, stood a bearded, Caucasian man roughly my age, with a Mets hat and stack of pamphlets. He’s either delivering lost mail or the good word of Christ, I assumed, and took my chance as I turned over the deadbolt and swung open the door. He was neither a neighbor nor a missionary but rather a political advocate, specifically for the Democratic Socialist mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani. I knew little of Mamdani beyond his striking name, made all the more memorable by the retro font used by his campaign that would look more at home on the front of a tiki bar than a political banner.  As a disillusioned Democrat who was quickly devolving into a full-blown curmudgeon since moving to Brooklyn many moons ago, the universal championing of Mamdani by hipster progressives primed me to write him off with little more than an eye roll without having done much investigation. Prescribing to neighborly etiquette more than any political philosophy, I gave the man the floor to sell me whatever rehearsed talking point he had. After a brief introduction, he asked me as a New Yorker what issues concerned me the most. Hoping to pass whatever moral purity test I anticipated coming my way and return to my coffee, I rattled off an uninspired sentiment about the homeless crisis and the need for the city to do more to protect its most vulnerable population. The man in the door nodded politely and agreed, as if I had said something of substance, before telling me his concerns: “I’m a dad,” he began, “and the things that keep me up at night at are the cost of rent and childcare.” Huh. That’s rather pragmatic for a socialist, I thought, embarrassed by my own grandstanding. He went on to tell me about candidate Mamdani, the energetic, 33-year-old assembly member from Queens, who was running an outright affordability campaign, promising to make life in New York easier by taking the financial burden off of residents struggling to meet ends meet, much like my wife and me. I listened to his case, confirmed that I was registered to vote, that I knew where my polling place was, and was left with some literature before he departed to continue his journey. As the door shut behind him I felt a familiar sensation creeping in that I wasn’t able to identify, like a song that comes on the radio that you haven’t heard since you were a kid but cannot put a name to. For a moment I allowed myself to daydream that should this Mamdani character be able to win and accomplish some of this wish list of ideas, how my dramatically that would improve life for my wife and I, who have been actively contemplating if we can still afford the city, let alone have children. I began to recognize the feeling as something from my 20s—hopeful. The feeling had just shown up, uninvited, even more intrusive than the man at my door, but extinguished almost as soon as it had arrived by a reflexive cynicism. Picking up my lukewarm coffee, for the first time in a long time, I considered the option of being hopeful.  I hadn’t always been this much of a grouch. Like Mamdani himself, I’m a 33-year-old millennial, a mix of people who I feel have had a particularly tough political journey in their third of a century on the planet. While I know that every generation has its own tragic historical landmarks to define them, the chasm between where our country was when we became of age to participate in politics, and America of 2026, feels like an indescribable decent into chaos. As with most people my age, one of the earliest national events burned into my memory was September 11th. For many of us, it was a coming online point, a complete loss of innocence, the first steps towards recognizing the world as a bigger, scarier and far more complicated place than our backyards. Tragedy birthed further tragedy and we saw our country dive headfirst into a war that we did not understand led by people, who even as a 10-year-old overhearing the nightly news was able to recognize as morally dubious characters. By the time I neared voting age, the country had been at war for more than half of my life and was in the depths of The Great Recession. Up until that point, it seemed in fashion among most people I knew to assume that the government was run by war criminals, the president to be a buffoon, my best friend’s father famously enjoying his coffee from a mug with a devil-horned George W. Bush on it. The biggest album of my graduating class was Green Day’s “American Idiot.” Something else had happened, however, by the time I turned 18. Barack Obama was elected president, a historical event that had such an impact on this young white kid from New Hampshire that I cannot fathom the effect it had on more disadvantaged people around the country, let alone the world. The significance was not lost on me, and for everything terrible I had known to be true about America in the present and it’s not-too-distant past, the 2008 election signified to me that change is possible, that things can actually get better. While a child may not understand the minutia of foreign affairs or puzzle of the American economy, I cannot stress enough the impact the character of a leader can have on a child.  Photo credit: Courtesy Barack Obama Presidential Library. This optimistic outlook for the country mirrored a pivotal time in my own life as a I prepared for college and looked to my own future. Through graduation, college and the tumultuous post-grad years, there would be ups and in downs, but one constant in my life was my admiration for the president, the pillars of the Democratic Party aligning with my own values. The youngest of four children in a barely middle-class home, I was essentially raised by a single mother because of my father’s chronic, debilitating illness. Through this upbringing, I saw firsthand the importance of a strong social safety net, the value of the arts in public education, and the nightmare that is our healthcare system. In short, life was hard for my family, but we had leaders to look to and keep us inspired. Believing in my elected leaders and supporting their fight for a better future was an inherent part of my character, as essential to my identity as the books I read or the music I loved. This sentiment seems laughable now, as this romanticized idealism of politics in 2026 sounds as dated and quaint as stump speech given out of the caboose of a steam locomotive. As the Obama years wound down, I found both myself and the country preparing for an uncertain, new future. I had made up my mind to move to New York City to pursue a career in the film industry, and my final few months in New Hampshire were spent basking in the political frenzy that is this key state during an election year. Saddened by the end of a presidency that had defined my formative years, I saw an exciting, more progressive future in the senator from Vermont, Bernie Sanders. Much to my dismay, as well as virtually every other Democrat I knew, he was not our candidate. Dismissed by many establishment Democrats as “extreme” or “unable to win an election,” this seemingly blatant rejection of the will of the party’s base was the first crack in the foundation of my faith in the Democrats.  Photo credit: Facebook Nonetheless, my friends and I threw our support behind the Clinton-Kaine ticket enthusiastically, even having an opportunity to see the former first lady speak, introduced by then first lady Michelle Obama. Unstirred by the trollist rhetoric coming from the other candidate on the right, a friend and I had dinner on election night and even cheered to the presumptive first woman president. It was cold and grey when I moved to Brooklyn in January the following year. I found myself, as well as the country, in a new, unknown place. While exploring a new city was a welcome distraction, I couldn’t escape the existential dread of the direction our country was headed, like waiting for a diagnosis after the discovery of a potentially malignant lump. We looked to leaders but they were still licking their wounds. It felt quite powerless at times. The party was having an identity crisis and seemed to be trying to try to cleanse itself in any way it can. Progressive movements spiked up like #MeToo, leading to long overdue justice for so many women, but adding to further disillusionment of men in power. It was a confusing time and I did my best to listen and learn. I went to protests, met plenty of liberals in my community, but more often than not it appeared to me we were finding more reason to divide amongst ourselves at a time when we should be building a strong coalition more than ever.  Photo credit: Pamme Boutselis Things were reaching a boiling point when the pandemic hit, and a red-hot populace stayed home and had nothing but time on its hands—hands that were constantly holding their phones. Misinformation, toxic algorithms, and age-old police violence, now impossible to ignore, filled everybody’s screens. The American culture had become a dumpster fire and the first year of what should have been an exciting new decade did nothing but pour gasoline onto it. The beaten down idealist in me, still clinging to hope, believed that a new leader could emerge from this 24-hour a day shit show. We got Joe Biden. The next four years were a bit of a respite, but it felt like a Band-Aid on a gunshot wound, a minute to catch our breath in the corner of the ring before hearing the bell and going another eight to ten rounds. There were whispers of something called Project 2025—and in seeing the growing lack of faith in Biden, it became increasingly apparent to me that in 2024 there would need to be new energetic leadership to seize this moment and protect the country from the monster waiting in the wings. By July of 2024, as I watched the addled, feeble president fumble his way through the most important debate of his life, I felt a long way from the young man who had watched Barack Obama’s inauguration speech 15 years ago. It was a fittingly frigid day when the orange man was sworn in for his second term. Record-low temperatures moved the ceremonies indoors, although the chill was felt far beyond the borders of the capital. As I watched him take his oath, surrounded by many of the people responsible for eroding the decency of our culture, I felt any hope left in me expire. I wasn’t sad. I was angry, bewildered, and felt that my own party had failed me, the country, and future generations. All these things were on my mind as I drank my cold coffee and looked at the big, yellow letters on the pamphlet in my hands. ZOHRAN. I cast it to the purgatory of unread mail in my office and assumed I’d forget about the wonder kid from Queens. History proved to make this impossible over the next several weeks. I could not escape the name Zohran Mamdani. Posters in bodega windows, stickers on the Q train, wheelbarrows of mail, and above all, a relentless social media presence speaking directly to voters.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy My knee-jerk reaction was to dismiss the digital blitzkrieg as a shameless attempt to seem relevant to younger voters, until remembering Mamdani was my age and, in fact, a young voter himself. This was not a typical candidate awkwardly appearing on podcasts and desperately speaking to influencers in a calculated ploy to assimilate to the next generation’s language. Mamdani spoke that language. Additionally, he was an immigrant from a working-class neighborhood in Queens, understood the hustle culture of New York City, and even more importantly, had a sense of humor. Most impressive was the clear communication and frank goals of his campaign that you could rattle off the top of your head: freeze rent, universal childcare, free buses. No grandiose statements about equity or demonizing folks who had a different perspective. Direct messaging, instead, to voters about how he will improve our lives. Inevitably, Mamdani’s candidacy became the main talking point over drinks or dinner with friends, whether it be their fiery support or outright dismissal based on the scope off his ambitions. Always more comfortable seated at the skeptic table, I largely agreed with the latter and found the Mamdani agenda a bit fantastical. The rest of the democratic establishment seemed to agree, everyone from the governor to mainstream podcasters labeling him as “radical.” Despite following this logic, emotionally it didn’t sit well with me, perhaps bringing back memories of that old senator from Vermont and his ill-fated nomination back in 2016. As time went on, my flirtation with the omnipresent Mamdani developed into full-fledged support when it became clear the alternative was none other than disgraced former Governor Andrew Cuomo. Having resigned over sexual misconduct, Cuomo’s brand of politics reeked of a bygone era, like the stench of cigar smoke in the woodwork of an Albany steakhouse. Positioning himself as a political heavyweight who had the strength to go toe-to-toe with the President, he seemed to think the title of Mayor was nothing more than a consolation prize that he was entitled to. Contrasted with Mamdani’s direct to the people approach, Cuomo barely did interviews or made his case for himself. He didn’t seem to be seeking people’s vote but rather demanding it. His statements regarding his past lewd behavior can be summed up as “boys will be boys,” a total parade of arrogance not too dissimilar to the president he claimed that only he could stand up to. For anyone on the fence about Mamdani, the choice seemed crystal clear in my mind, as this was a decision between returning to the past or stepping into the future.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy Faced with the choice between fresh idealism and business as usual, I was frustrated to find many of the people in my life, who I was ideologically aligned with, still weren’t convinced. “He just won’t be able to get anything done,” they’d proclaim with tired eyes and defeated certainty. No rational person could argue against the mountain of improbability facing the young candidate, but is dreaming big not the purpose of seeking higher office in this country? Obama spoke of the audacity of hope. For eight years in this country, we said yes we can, even when we were defeated and the odds stacked against us. Did John F. Kennedy tell us we would go to the moon because it would easy? Hell, the current president has spent the last decade making promises that he cannot deliver. That is not to equate his incessant lies to Mamdani’s lofty agenda—no, but it is to say that the goals of a candidate don’t inform you of what they for certain will accomplish, but to inform you of who for certain they will be fighting for. The word that came up over and over in this dialogue was “radical.” Every time I would hear this word, I felt an anger growing inside of me. When I looked around, there were plenty things that seemed radical to me beyond Zohran Mamdani. What seems “radical” to me was accepting the status quo, that so many New Yorkers worked more than 50 hours a week and struggle to pay their rent. What was “radical” was expecting people who had been living under an authoritarian to elect a sexual predator as the mayor of their city. It is “radical” to accept that we cannot choose a leader who will fight for us because we need to accept that large-scale change in this country is no longer possible. Surrounded by such rank pessimism, I found myself for the first time in a decade feeling like an idealist. And it felt good. Even if Zohran can only accomplish a fraction of what he has promised, he will have mobilized a new generation.  Photo credit: Kara McCurdy It was a bright, brisk day on January 1, 2026. As the world celebrated a New Year and nursed their hangovers, my city celebrated a new chapter. The sun beamed hard as the young mayor was sworn in by none other than the senator from Vermont himself. It was the beginning of what would be a historic, brutal winter, but I felt some of that cynicism in me melt away. “Beginning today, we will govern expansively and audaciously. We may not always succeed. But we will never be accused of lacking the courage to try.” In those remarks, Zohran Mamdani articulated a core tenet of American idealism. Falling short in the pursuit of a better world is not a failure, but a noble effort, one that is essential to the American story. A lot has been said about the state of our democracy because of the current administration. While it is true that the president is morally bankrupt, culturally poisonous, and globally harmful, he was brought to power by the will of the American people. Rather than let that understandably horrify me and shatter my hope for a better world, I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country. Andrew Boutselis is a writer and filmmaker, currently working in location management in the film and television industry. He studied film production at Fitchburg State University and earned a bachelor’s in communication at Southern New Hampshire University. After two-plus decades of New Hampshire life, he now resides in Brooklyn, New York. Connect with him on LinkedIn. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. I choose to focus on the fact the American people can still choose their leaders, no matter how “radical” they may be perceived. We can educate, inspire, and mobilize an electorate that can make a tidal, historical change in this country." - Andrew Boutselis  Photo by Gary Butterfield on Unsplash By Mariam P. Sometimes, late at night when I’m studying or the internet is slow, I catch myself wondering about big things , like why people believe what they do, or how the world could be different. In those quiet moments, I realize curiosity isn’t just something nice to have. It’s actually a strong way to deal with a world full of arguments and divisions. We live in times where information comes at us constantly : news alerts, social media threads, heated family dinners. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed and retreat into certainty. We scroll past opinions that don’t match ours, mute notifications from “that one friend,” or just nod along in conversations to avoid conflict. But I’ve noticed something: the moments when I push past that instinct and get genuinely curious are the ones that stick with me. They don’t always change minds (mine or anyone else’s), but they change the energy. They make space for something human instead of just positions. Right now, a lot of people pick a side fast and stick to it. They stop listening. But asking questions changes that. A simple “Why do you think that?” or “What made you feel this way?” can open the door to real talk instead of shouting matches. Those basic questions are powerful because they shift the focus from winning to understanding. When we ask them sincerely, we’re saying, “I see you as more than your opinion.” We’re inviting the other person to share the story behind their view , the experiences, fears, hopes, or values that shaped it. Often , people aren’t used to being asked. They expect attack or dismissal so when curiosity shows up instead, it disarms defensiveness. Suddenly, the conversation isn’t a battle; it’s an exchange. I’ve seen it happen in small ways. In online chats with people from different places, when someone asks a real question instead of arguing, the whole mood shifts. People start sharing stories. They don’t always agree, but they start to understand each other a little better. That small shift matters. This works on a bigger scale too. Whether it’s arguments about politics, climate, or rights, things get stuck when everyone thinks they already know the full truth. Questions break that stuck feeling. They let us see new sides, find common ground, and maybe even solve problems together. Think about how polarized things have become , elections, social issues, even basic facts get twisted into team sports. When we assume we already know everything about “the other side,” we stop learning. But curiosity reminds us that no one has the complete picture. Every perspective is shaped by partial experiences. Asking questions helps fill in the gaps. It reveals shared human concerns underneath the divide like wanting safety for our families, fairness in opportunities, or a planet that future generations can thrive on. Those common threads don’t solve everything overnight, but they make collaboration possible instead of impossible.  Photo by Nicole Baster on Unsplash Global Citizens Circle shows this in action. Their Circles bring people together from all ages and places to talk without needing to win. Questions are welcomed, not shut down. Listening happens first. I’ve seen how that builds trust. When people feel heard, they open up. When they open up, change becomes possible. It builds trust and shows that understanding can come before agreeing. Young people especially have this superpower. We’re growing up in a noisy, divided world, but many of us still ask “why” and “what if.” We wonder about fairness, about the future, about how to make things better. That wondering keeps hope alive. It reminds us that the world isn’t finished changing. Every question we ask is a step toward something kinder, fairer, more connected. Of course, asking questions isn’t always easy. It can feel risky especially when opinions run hot or when you’re afraid of looking unsure. But that’s why it’s powerful. It takes courage to say, “I don’t know; tell me more.” It takes strength to listen without jumping in to correct. In divided times, that’s revolutionary. When we choose questions over conclusions, we choose connection over isolation. We remind ourselves and others that people are more than the side they choose to take. We’re stories, struggles, dreams. Curiosity just lets us meet each other there. Here’s something simple anyone can try this week: When you see or hear something you disagree with — in person, online, or even in your own head — stop for a second and ask one honest question. “What’s behind that view?” or “What part of this is hardest for you?” Just one question. And remember: the goal isn’t to agree; it’s to learn something new about the person across from you. If this speaks to you, feel free to share your own question or join a Circle — small steps go a long way. “The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.” — Albert Einstein Mariam P. is a young Afghan woman passionate about technology, education, and creating opportunities for women. She continues her studies online while volunteering and participating in global leadership programs. She enjoys reading, exploring art, and engaging in a variety of extracurricular activities, including digital projects. Living through years of conflict and restrictions has shaped her belief that learning, commitment, and community are powerful forms of healing and hope. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. When we choose questions over conclusions, we choose connection over isolation. We remind ourselves and others that people are more than the side they choose to take. We’re stories, struggles, dreams. Curiosity just lets us meet each other there." -Mariam P.  A Declaration of Moral Power RIGHT We affirm that Right precedes Might. As citizens of humanity, we choose Right Action—especially in times when human rights are dismissed, distorted, or deliberately dismantled. We refuse the false doctrine that force determines truth or that dominance confers legitimacy. We bind ourselves to a moral code grounded in the inherent dignity of every human being, without exception—across borders, beliefs, identities, and legal status. Human worth is not granted by the state. It is not earned. It is not revocable. In moments when fear is weaponized and cruelty normalized, we choose conscience over compliance, courage over convenience, and humanity over silence. MAKES Right does not remain an idea. Right becomes real through action. As people of conscience, we take a stand against the erosion of civil liberties, the criminalization of compassion, and the misuse of power, and for the protection of human dignity, due process, and truth. We commit to doing right—now through daily, measurable acts that multiply when practiced together:
MIGHT Might is power—but not all power is equal. We reject domination, coercion, and fear as false strength. We affirm that the only power capable of sustaining human dignity is moral power:
This is the power that outlasts regimes. This is the strength we claim—together. RIGHT MAKES MIGHT.
ACT NOW: If you believe that Right Makes Might, we encourage you to click through to Change.org and sign the petition with your pledge to act upon this declaration. JOIN US at our next virtual Circle by registering here. Does Might Make Right: The Moral Cost of Power When: January 28, 2026 Time: 12:00-1:00pm EST Where: Zoom Circle  By Theo Spanos Dunfey September 21st – International Day of Peace – Earth, Wind and Fire day – the birth of my first grandchild, Milo. Oh, how the confluence of these events gives me pause to reflect on this past year. You see, I became a grandmother on the 21st of September, a date I had forgotten, until a colleague reminded me, was established in 1981 by the United Nations as the International Day of Peace. It’s also a date that is recognized especially by my generation as the night when the band Earth, Wind and Fire sang and asked the question, “Do you remember/ The 21st night of September?/Love was changing the minds of pretenders/ While chasing the clouds away.” There’s surely something profound for me in this mix of the pursuit of global peace, the music of my late teens, and now the birth of my first grandchild. Though I won’t do justice to describing why it’s profound for me, I will give it a try. The ideal of achieving global peace is something that I’ve worked towards throughout my career. Listening deeply to and learning so much from those who have faced the unimaginable horrors of conflict and war have left me humbled and committed to doing what I can to advance, if only a small bit, the prospects for peace. Those prospects grow when we come together to talk and we pay attention to how we talk to one another. It is with respect and an abiding trust in the inherent dignity of all people that “talk” can lead to understanding and ultimately to peace. It’s not an easy, straight or short line between the two, but history has proven its worth. I think of Northern Ireland and the countless hours, days and years that it took to find a semblance of peace through the Good Friday Agreement. I believe the words of Nelson Mandela when he said, “The best weapon is to sit down and talk.” I respect the insights of Gloria Steinem, when she wrote in her book "My Life on the Road," “If you want people to listen to you, you have to listen to them. If you hope people will change how they live, you have to know how they live. If you want people to see you, you have to sit down with them eye-to-eye.” I’ve seen where prospects for peace expand with respectful, civil dialogue, and I feel hope in the act of nurturing it. I’m no less moved by the power of music to motivate, heal and inspire activism for a more peaceful world. It is a universal language that can sometimes soothe the soul. For me, a child of the 60s and 70s, music that brought me solace in that particular time of upheaval was soft, melodic, and soothing, or happy, lively and fun. Some were undoubtedly moved more by the hard rock of the day, but that wasn’t me. I return to the significance of Earth, Wind and Fire, a band whose songs featured poetic lyrics about universal love, harmony, spirituality, and consciousness. That’s what I liked, that’s what made me smile and sing along. When my grandson Milo was born on the 21st night of September, how I smiled and sang silently in my head the words of Earth, Wind and Fire’s perennially popular song, “September.” Of course I was beyond happy and filled with the peace and joy of knowing Milo and my daughter McKayla were healthy, safe and surrounded by family and friends filled with love for them and Nolan, the proud father and partner.  Theo and her grandson Milo. But, my dearest Milo, my prince of peace, I can’t help but worry. It is what I do best, though I try my hardest to overcome it. The world you have been born into will confront you with great challenges, and that scares me, not because I think your generation will be unable to survive. I believe you will, but it will take great effort, strategic initiative, perseverance and hope to envision and forge a new world of peace, justice and prosperity for all. You will need to work together in a world that tries to divide. You will need to learn the difference between fact and fiction in a world that tries to confuse and conflate the two. You will need stay true to your values in a world that tries to pull you away. I know you and your peers will do it, but the unknown still scares me. Nonetheless, it’s a new year and I refuse to succumb to the messages the world has imposed on me this past year. I can acknowledge and feel the pain of loneliness, the despair of war, the devastation wrought by climate change and the chaos of collapsing democratic values and institutions, but I will not and cannot give up hope for a more peaceful world. I will continue to put that hope into action for my own sweet Milo and for all of the precious new lives that come into our world with nothing but the expectation of nourishment, warmth and love. Theo Spanos Dunfey is president and executive director of Global Citizens Circle. She has over 30 years of global experience in non-profits, higher education, and international affairs. Dunfey is a graduate of the Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy at Tufts University, where she earned a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy, concentrating on American diplomatic history, international communication, and international development. It was during her studies at the Fletcher School that she first began volunteering with Global Citizens Circle’s Boston programs. She also earned a bachelor’s in international relations and French at Brown University. With a primary focus on global issues, Dunfey taught international development at the University of New England, led student groups on global citizenship service-learning trips abroad, directed the World Affairs Council of Maine, and produced numerous global editorial conferences for The WorldPaper before taking the helm at Global Citizens Circle. Listening deeply to and learning so much from those who have faced the unimaginable horrors of conflict and war have left me humbled and committed to doing what I can to advance, if only a small bit, the prospects for peace."  By Steve Dunfey As a member of the Dunfey family, I feel privileged to write about two people who have influenced my life for the better. One is my father Jack and the other is Manny Diaz. We all knew Jack as the leader of the Dunfey family business enterprises. He also built bridges in many foreign countries. Most significantly were his efforts in Cuba and dealings with Fidel Castro. Manny Diaz is the former mayor of Miami and has been a close friend of mine since 1976. He served two terms as mayor and became the president of the U.S. Conference of Mayors. My father was introduced to Castro by Congressman Mickey Leland, who unfortunately died in a plane crash in Africa in 1989. He continued meeting with Castro close to a dozen occasions and I was lucky enough to join him on one of those visits. We started out in Santiago de Cuba in Cuba’s east end. While there, we visited Boniato Prison and interviewed several political prisoners. Then on to Holguin, where we were treated to inspecting the tourist industry.
 Fidel Castro with Steve Dunfey  Jack Dunfey with Fidel Castro Global Citizens Circle made a trip to Cuba in 2001. The delegation met with government officials, activists and the famous Cuban writer Miguel Barnet. It would be great to hear any feedback about that trip from those that were there. Manny Diaz was born in Cuba and came to the United States with his mother in 1961. His father was a political prisoner and came to the U.S. when he was released. I met Manny when I worked for Mike O’Donovan who ran for State Representative in Miami in 1976. Manny was Mike’s campaign manager. Unfortunately Mike died soon after losing a close election. But Manny and I remained friends. He became an attorney and also a businessman working for Terremark, a real estate development firm. He also became co-owner of Monty Trainer’s, a popular Miami restaurant. Manny got into politics in a big way in 2001 when he ran for mayor of Miami, his first attempt at elected office. He wrote a book about his experience titled “Miami Transformed: Rebuilding America One Neighborhood, One City at a Time.” According to the former Mayor of Chicago Richard M. Daley, “Miami Transformed is the story of a doer, a big thinker with a passion for improving the lives of people. Manny Diaz is undaunted by the challenges that inevitably arise in government and business but always squarely focused on the agenda he has carefully set to reach his goals. That’s the definition of a good leader, and that, based on my experience, is Manny Diaz.” Dr. Eduardo J. Padron, president of Miami Dade College, said, “Manny Diaz became the mayor of Miami during a critical time, when professional leadership was needed. He took the city to new heights and also represented Miami nationally and internationally as president of the U.S. Conference of Mayors. Manny is a visionary leader who has never lost his footing or his roots. He epitomizes the immigrant success story and the fruition of the American Dream.” Steve Dunfey is a freelance writer, writing primarily for InDepthNH and the Seacoast Jazz Society. Dunfey has extensive background in politics having served as State Representative and Assistant Democratic Leader in New Hampshire. He was appointed by Governor Hugh Gallen to serve as Vice-Chairman of the New Hampshire State Port Authority. He also has experience as a professional musician and writer for Modern Drummer magazine. Dunfey has been a member of several boards of directors and as a Taxi Commissioner for the City of Portsmouth. Please note: We invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. Through his efforts my father helped nearly 100 prisoners obtain their freedom."  By Theo Spanos Dunfey At a time when it’s becoming harder and more competitive to fundraise, nonprofit executive directors, development directors and board members are looking at fundraising from all angles. We have to be creative, think outside the box and explore opportunities beyond foundations and individual donors. Global Citizens Circle has been doing just that, and one particular opportunity has been with charitable gaming in New Hampshire. The charitable gaming business model in NH operates under a state law that mandates NH-based charities receive 35% of the revenue from table games and 8.75% from historic horse racing machines, and the state takes 10% and 16.5% respectively. The remaining profit goes to casino operators. From August 19–28, Global Citizens Circle will partner with REVO Casino in Manchester, NH, for a 10-day charitable gaming event to raise funds in support of its mission to bridge divides through radically civil dialogue. For more than 50 years, Global Citizens Circle has engaged people across generations to address polarization and advance just and peaceful solutions to some of the world’s most pressing concerns. Funds raised during the event will support the organization’s work teaching global citizenship to high school and college students in the Breakthrough Manchester College Bound program, as well as connecting New Hampshire citizens to global perspectives through both in-person and online discussions. With roots in NH that go back more than 50 years, Global Citizens Circle remains committed to serving concerned citizens of NH by bringing the global to the local, connecting them with people from around the world who share their unique perspectives on issues that affect all of us. We're very grateful for the opportunity to raise funds from charitable gaming to support the work that helps instill the values of global citizenship right here in NH. This partnership with REVO Casino underscores the power of charitable gaming to make a tangible difference for local communities. Theo Spanos Dunfey is president and executive director of Global Citizens Circle. She has over 30 years of global experience in non-profits, higher education, and international affairs. Dunfey is a graduate of the Fletcher School of Law & Diplomacy at Tufts University, where she earned a Master of Arts in Law and Diplomacy, concentrating on American diplomatic history, international communication, and international development. It was during her studies at the Fletcher School that she first began volunteering with Global Citizens Circle’s Boston programs. She also earned a bachelor’s in international relations and French at Brown University. With a primary focus on global issues, Dunfey taught international development at the University of New England, led student groups on global citizenship service-learning trips abroad, directed the World Affairs Council of Maine, and produced numerous global editorial conferences for The WorldPaper before taking the helm at Global Citizens Circle. We're very grateful for the opportunity to raise funds from charitable gaming to support the work that helps instill the values of global citizenship right here in NH. Over the past year, we’ve celebrated the 50th anniversary of Global Citizens Circle—reflecting with gratitude on a remarkable journey, the people who’ve shaped it, and the lasting impact of its work. As we honor this legacy, we are also looking ahead—committed to ensuring that our mission continues to thrive for generations to come. On May 23, so many came together globally to celebrate the 90th birthday of GCC’s founder, Jerry Dunfey. As part of this heartfelt tribute, a very special short film premiered during a private virtual screening. Created by GCC Board Member Michael Lockett and narrated by Global Advisor Marguerite Mariama, the film tells the story of GCC’s evolution and the many activists across the globe who have fueled its mission. It also highlights a new generation of emerging leaders poised to carry this important work forward. We invite you to watch “Global Citizens Circle: Forward to Fifty and Beyond” and be inspired by the journey—and the path that lies ahead.  By Pamme Boutselis Throughout the past 50 years, Global Citizens Circle has created essential dialogue around serious societal issues throughout the U.S. and across the world, especially at Circle events. I appreciate the sense of connection each Circle has given me, the opportunities to connect with others globally, and, notably, the access to people I most likely would never have experienced otherwise – and for that I’m grateful. One Circle, in particular, the first virtual Circle actually, made a marked impression on me at a time when we were all feeling especially vulnerable. I invite you to think back to where you were in early April 2020 and consider what your mindset might have been. As for me, I was working from home for several weeks at this point, having gone remote for what we thought would be just two weeks as the coronavirus ramped up stateside. Before March was out, though, the university I work at was partnering with the city to provide overflow hospital space on our campus. The mom of four now-grown kids, two of my sons lived local to me in New Hampshire, one with his wife and two recently adopted kids – and a baby soon to join their family that summer – and the other with his wife, also pregnant and due in May. My daughter, her husband and two kids had just moved back from Vermont to the town where she’d grown up (and where I still live). My youngest lived in Brooklyn, where he and his girlfriend worked in hospitality. Just a few days after NYC shut down in mid-March, my youngest son tested positive for Covid-19, and his girlfriend also did just a week or so later. In those early days, of course, there were no vaccines, and the uncertainty of the virus’s severity was incredibly alarming, with media stories of deaths worldwide coming at us daily. The length of time those diagnosed with Covid-19 had to quarantine was much longer than it is today. As our family in Brooklyn remained isolated in their apartment, we pondered how to get them safely back to NH once they were able to go out again. It was a surreal time, and one like nothing none of us had ever experienced before. Like many, I was scared – and watching the news each day with growing concern. And then I received an email from Global Citizens Circle, telling of a virtual Circle planned for April 7, 2020: “Connection & Action in Uncertain Time.” Having witnessed the power of an in-person Circle firsthand, I wondered what this might feel like online, particularly as we were all just beginning to get our feet wet in this new digital meeting space. But I knew I needed to be on that call.  Until now, most of what I knew about this global pandemic was what I saw in the media and briefly heard from a friend or two across the sea. April 7th brought this all home, allowing me to bear witness to what others were experiencing in a way I never could have imagined. As participants joined the Circle, there were a few that I knew, but so many others coming together from throughout the world. Two people will always stay with me. Ralph Zhang, a man in Wuhan, the capital of Hubei, China, a place I’d only recently become acquainted with via the news. His city had been released that day from a two-plus-month lockdown – and as he spoke with us, his face close to the computer screen, what he had been through over the past few months was evident with every word and facial expression he shared. It was haunting in many ways, but I also recognized that the virus had advanced earlier in that area. We had not yet entered into that stage yet in the U.S., although we were certainly heading there. While Ralph Zhang’s experience gave me trepidation, it also gave me hope; that there would be light eventually as we continued down this tunnel. Another man shared what he was witnessing – this time, more local in Manhattan. Although I don’t recall his name, I do remember what he had to say. He spoke of living near one of the big hospitals in the city, and on his noontime walks each day seeing the refrigerated trucks – something I had heard about and seen pictures of in the news. This was where the remains of people who had passed from Covid-19 were being housed. Hearing this took my breath away, lending credence to what I had already known to be true but now cementing it solidly as something real happening not too far away. It added to my urgency in wanting to get my son and his girlfriend out of the city as quickly as possible. It also grew the empathy I felt for those who died away from loved ones in those hospitals, for those who didn’t have an opportunity to say good-bye, to mark their deaths in the ways we normally might, or to grieve with others. I thought about the healthcare workers experiencing all of this and what the long-term effects would be on each of them – and the man who walked by those trucks each day. And while both of these accounts I shared – along with those I haven’t – might have you thinking this was a Circle I may have wanted to avoid – it was completely the opposite. These were scary times and I had been on my own in my house, working remotely, connected with friends and family virtually but feeling cut off from the world in so many ways. I could take in news reports each day but this didn’t compare at all with hearing experiences firsthand from people throughout the world. It gave me a sense of connection – of understanding that this truly was a global pandemic that affected us all in a way that I hadn’t felt as deeply before. It put faces and sometimes names, along with countries, cities and towns in my heart and head, reinforcing how important it was to work together to come out the other side of this global crisis. I know Global Citizens Circle has always been engaged in connection and conversation, no matter how hard or uncertain the times are. I’ve borne witness to this time and time again. But as I think back to that day in April 2020, when I felt quite scared and often alone – GCC came through in a big way offering connection and potential action to help us get through that very uncertain year. And I’m grateful not only for that day but for all of the virtual Circles since that allow us to connect regularly from so many places globally, to connect and communicate no matter what we are facing. Pamme Boutselis is an award-winning writer and content producer, currently serving as a senior director of content marketing and a communication adjunct at Southern New Hampshire University. She loves hearing and sharing stories. As a writer spanning a 25-plus-year career, her work has been featured in print and online via news media, career and education-focused blogs, regional magazines, technology publications and more. A serial volunteer, Boutselis has been a TEDx organizer since 2013 and a speaker coach. She’s been fortunate to work with dozens of nonprofits throughout the years and serves as a communication advisor for Global Citizens Circle. Connect with her on LinkedIn. Please note: Each week, we invite members of the greater Global Citizens Circle community to contribute to GCC Voices. The views and opinions expressed in each blog post are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Global Citizens Circle. As I think back to that day in April 2020, when I felt quite scared and often alone – GCC came through in a big way offering connection and potential action to help us get through that very uncertain year. |
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