When I was nine years old, I left Chicago with my mom and aunt for a road trip through Alabama and Georgia.

Even though I'd been exposed to poverty (my dad is from a village in Greece), I was not prepared for the conditions I saw from the back seat of that VW bug.

Here? In THIS country?

I dreamt that someday I would return with two truckloads of food for the people I saw there, and that I would hide when the food was delivered so they wouldn't know it was from me — a kid's fantasy.

Still, even then I had a feeling that they'd be hungry again soon, despite all the milk and bread I secretly delivered. I felt something deeper was represented here, something about fairness, opportunity, hope and dignity.

As a kid, I couldn't envision how caring people could make a lasting difference. I'm glad I can now.