Over the last few decades, fundamental changes in the way we work and live have trapped too many American families between an economy that's gone global and a government that's gone AWOL.

In the last six years, over 300,000 black males have lost jobs in the manufacturing sector - the highest rate of any ethnic group.

But just as we have individual responsibilities, at the dawn of the 21st century we also have a collective responsibility to strengthen that safety net, put the rungs back on that ladder to the middle-class, and give every family the chance that so many of our parents and grandparents had.

Each year at this time we honor and think about the fathers who've been a part of our lives - the examples they've set, the sacrifices they've made, their successes and their struggles.

And when we get distracted by those kinds of question, I think we do a disservice to the American people.

I am my brother's keeper. I am my sister's keeper.

And nothing really changes except the news coverage quiets down and Anderson Cooper is on to something else.

We can diminish poverty if we approach it in two ways: by taking mutual responsibility for each other as a society, and also by asking for some more individual responsibility to strengthen our families.

And it made me think about our cities and communities all around this country, how not only do we still have scars from that riot and the 'quiet riots' that happen every day—but how in too many places we haven't even taken the bullet out.

This disaster was a powerful metaphor for what's gone on for generations.

But in the middle of that desperate time, there was a miracle: a baby born with a bullet in its arm. We need to hear about these miracles in these desperate times because they are the blessings that can unite us when some in the world try to drive a wedge between our common humanity and deep, abiding faith.