Talk about culture shock. I left developing country Tanzania and landed straight in the heart of development or establishment at New York’s Waldorf Astoria, where I was a sports legend guest of Buoniconti Fund and their efforts to cure paralysis. I joined sports stars Troy Aikman, Clyde Drexler, Dara Torres, Rusty Wallace, Pat Day, Mike Piazza, and Bret Hull at a fundraising dinner that raised almost $50 million over the last twenty-three years.

Still carting around a duffel full of dirty clothes—and I mean dirty clothes—from the mountain, I stopped in New York because the climb is just the start. We need to leverage it. If we are successful in creating a social change—a shift in the way that we see ourselves and others—in creating opportunities when there are seemingly none—then we need a bigger voice. John Mondello, Karen Brown and CBS Evening News have been tremendous in getting our story to a much wider audience. I’d hoped that some other national news outlets might pick up on it as well, but they didn’t on this trip. Hopefully, they will soon because the viability of our efforts sits in the balance. Or ability to tell the story, to attract sponsors, to raise money, and ultimately, to change minds hinges on getting the word out.

In many ways the contrast=2 0between Tanzania and New York, specifically the Waldorf was almost as bizarre as the scene I experienced at the Amsterdam airport along the way. With a couple of hours to spare I headed for the museum to see some 17th century art. A little casual culture never hurt anyone. On my way, I stopped into the rest room, where a man stood half in and half out of the sink—washing his feet. I felt like I’d been transported into a John Irving novel. Then, not sharing any language, we had a conversation regarding the whereabouts of the handicapped bathroom—just around the corner—and that it really kind of stunk.

It was a bit bizarre to look at the black and white photos of Kissinger and Eisenhower on the walls as I made my way to my hotel room. The security seemed so old and so solid—a huge contrast to Tanzania, where the hand to mouth existence and lack of rain during the rainy season, had forced people to dig up grass roots to feed the cows. They can’t worry that when the rains return there won’t be any grass to grow or that whole areas might slide away as mud.

I couldn’t help but feel caught in the middle. The obvious wealth of so many in New York left me longing for some of the security that money brings. We and I have mortgaged so much to make the One Revolution project a reality, and the climb, while a great success, is the beginning as opposed to the end. I’m far from digging up grass roots, but I as I made my way through New York I couldn’t help but feel a sense of limbo between the two worlds. Maybe that’s a good thing.