Description
Curtis Reliford was born and raised on Elm Grove Plantation in the Deep South of Louisiana. Growing up, he witnessed people being divided by racism and bigotry. As a result, he became rebellious and angry and started using his fists to defend himself and his voice to fight for his rights. He did not expect to live past 25.
Curtis left the plantation running, with no direction and no purpose. As he traveled the country, he got shot, stabbed, and thrown out of a 7-story building. Years later he ended up in jail. There, he met a Native American Shaman who awakened him to change his life.
In 1984, Curtis became clean and sober. Then in 2005, he started “Follow Your Heart Action Network,” a non-profit organization which delivers food, clothing, and building materials to people in need. Curtis’ purpose is to promote peace, love, and kindness wherever he goes.
This is his story.
About the Author
Following Your Heart: Understanding Local Santa Cruz Icon, Curtis Reliford
Excerpt from article authored by UCSC student Sheima Amir-Araghi
Curtis Reliford grew up on Elm Grove Plantation in Louisiana. His mother was just 13 when he was born, and with many siblings, Curtis was raised by both her and his godmother in a home stretched thin. Life offered little comfort. As a black boy growing up in the deeply segregated South, where the Ku Klux Klan still held power, Curtis faced a world steeped in racism, poverty, and fear. “They pumped fear into our neighborhoods,” he recalled, describing a childhood shadowed by hate. Like many young men trying to survive in hostile conditions, Curtis acted out. High school brought fights, missteps, and trouble that mirrored the chaos around him. It wasn’t until years later, after traveling, returning home, and finding nothing had changed, that he decided something had to. “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired,” he told me, summing up the breaking point that pushed him to leave Louisiana behind. He set his sights on Santa Cruz, a place that had stood out during his travels. It wasn’t just a change of scenery, it was a lifeline.
Santa Cruz became the backdrop of his transformation. He got sober here—something he’s proudly maintained for 39 years. Curtis credits the Sunflower House rehabilitation center, where he spent three pivotal years, with saving his life. “I was heading for self-destruction,” he said, but something shifted during those early recovery days. Through a mix of seminars, AA meetings, Bible study groups, and soul-searching retreats, Curtis found clarity. His purpose, he realized, was simple, but powerful: to spread love, peace, and compassion to everyone he could reach.
It was Curtis’s newfound mission—his personal doctrine of peace, love, and compassion—that inspired him to repurpose his landscaping trucks for a much greater cause. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina in 2005, he loaded up all five vehicles with donated supplies and drove them from Santa Cruz to the devastated Louisiana-Mississippi border. He made the trip not once, but several times, determined to bring relief directly to survivors. After his final run, Curtis believed his donation days were behind him. But the universe, as he tells it, had other plans. A generous donor handed him $7,000, and just like that, the road was calling again. Though he remained wary, especially of “gangbangers in trailer parks” who had tried to rob his truck before, Curtis knew he couldn’t turn away from the opportunity to help. On a return trip toward New Orleans, he stopped for gas in Winslow, Arizona. There, two young boys approached him asking for spare change. Curtis noticed their shoes were worn down, torn apart.
“I started getting animated, you know, making them laugh and changing my voice,” he recalled, grinning. “Brand new Nikes I put on their feet.”
Moments later, their father approached him, suspicious. “Did my boys steal those shoes?”
“No sir,” Curtis told him. “I gave them the shoes. Do you need anything?”
The man hesitated. “I could use some jeans.”
Curtis followed them home to a Navajo reservation. “It looked like a painted desert,” he said. What he found there was heartbreaking: leaky roofs, bare floors, and a level of poverty that demanded more than just a pit stop. He stayed for two weeks, fixing what he could, sharing his truck’s supplies, and spreading joy wherever he went. That visit sparked something deeper. Over the next two years, Curtis collected supplies specifically requested by Navajo families. But when he returned, a wrong turn changed his path again—this time, to the Hopi reservation. That unexpected detour introduced him to another community in need. It’s almost as if, time and again, Curtis is placed exactly where he’s needed. He draws strength from those who came before him, his personal pantheon of changemakers and visionaries: Dale Carnegie, Les Brown, Napoleon Hill, Jesus, Martin Luther King Jr., Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman, and Muhammad Ali.
“I’m trying to take their torch,” he told me, “and keep running with it.”
Curtis Reliford’s mission is simple in theory, radical in practice: to spread peace and love and, in his words, to “let racism rest in peace.” He sees racism not just as a personal failing, but as a systemic disease that stems from the top—from institutions, policies, and power structures. True change, he believes, must come from within the system and from everyday people willing to act. That mission can feel enormous, even impossible. But Curtis keeps himself grounded, and motivated, with a dose of humor. “Curt,” he tells himself, “if you think you’re too small to make a difference in the world, try sleeping with a mosquito.”
He doesn’t claim to have all the answers. In fact, he doesn’t claim to have credentials at all. No formal training. No college degree. Just a deep, persistent drive to help others. “Nobody can help everybody,” he often says, “but everybody can help somebody.” For Curtis, change starts one person, one family, one community at a time. His truck, which is an equal parts donation vehicle, mobile protest, and peace billboard, has taken him across the country to moments of historic resistance. He drove to Standing Rock to deliver supplies to families protesting the Dakota Access Pipeline. He was also swept up in the energy of the Black Lives Matter movement, participating in a sit-in on a steel bridge in Portland, Oregon, an unexpected detour on what began as a simple trip to help someone move. For Curtis, every road leads to purpose. And he follows it, no matter where it goes.
Back in Santa Cruz, Curtis Reliford is hard to miss. Dressed in vibrant clothes, often dancing on the sidewalk, he collects donations with the same joyful energy that fuels his mission. His most noticeable tool? Music, loud, unapologetic jazz pouring from his truck like a call to attention. When I asked him about the volume, Curtis didn’t skip a beat. “It’s to get people’s attention when nobody’s even looking around,” he said. “They’ve got their heads down, looking at these damn cell phones. They’ve got headphones in. Ain’t nobody paying attention. When I turn that music on, all heads turn.” And turn they do. The tactic has proven far more effective than traditional fundraising approaches, so Curtis keeps at it, soundtracking his street presence with his favorite jazz legends.
But his work hasn’t come without setbacks. He’s racked up parking tickets and citations for the noise. Worse, he was once robbed of $20,000 worth of supplies and equipment. Still, Curtis presses on with a resilience that’s as rare as it is inspiring. He shared a moment that stuck with him: a protest in San Francisco, where he and his then-8-year-old daughter had brought the truck to join the march. After the event, Curtis ducked into a Starbucks for a quick coffee, leaving his daughter in the truck. By accident, she hit the switch that blasted the music back on. Panicked, she tried to turn it off but outside, something unexpected happened. Passersby began to dance. A spontaneous block party bloomed around the truck. When Curtis returned, coffee in hand, he found a joyful crowd gathered, moving to the beat. That moment stuck with him. It worked,” he said with a smile. “And I knew I was gonna keep doing it.”
Over the years, Curtis Reliford has earned plenty of recognition for his work. He’s received the American Red Cross Good Samaritan Award, Jefferson Award, two keys to the City of Santa Cruz, and the NAACP’s Community Service Award. He’s even delivered a TED Talk. These honors have buoyed his spirit through difficult times—moments when racism flared, especially during the Trump era, or when local business owners called the city to complain about his music. But Curtis doesn’t let the noise slow him down. His purpose is louder.
“I’m standing out because I was born to stand out—not to blend in. I’m following my heart. I ain’t scared!” he told me. “It keeps me hopeful and gives me purpose in life.”
If you believe in Curtis’s mission—spreading love, peace, and compassion—consider supporting his work. He collects donations of food, clothing, and supplies, which can be mailed to P.O. Box 1518, Santa Cruz, CA 95061. You can also learn more or contribute online at www.followyourheartactionnetwork.org. Better yet, if you hear that unmistakable jazz drifting through downtown Santa Cruz, follow the sound. Give Curtis a wave. Flash him a smile. Chances are, you’ll get one back, brighter than you expect, and aimed straight at you no matter who you are. In a world that often rewards conformity, Curtis Reliford has done something rare: he’s followed his heart and never looked back.
