It was 1892 in Western Oklahoma, my Great Grandfather had settled on a piece of land, not far from the Old Chisholm Trail. He made this his home, in the side of a hill for a while. As he stood out at the edge of the prairie grass, looking out over the wildflowers, locals call Indian Paintbrush, he knew he had traveled far. But more importantly, he had a vision, and he had a passion for what he wanted for his family, himself, and all of those around him.

I was born in Oklahoma, and…