For the past two years, Gilroyans Lionel and Marilyn have inspired me by their example of selfless giving and what Christmas truly means at a time of year when wages are at their lowest for field workers and the livelihood of migrant families is at its most precarious.
It's hard to believe, but this month marks the end of my thirteenth year of writing this column. As I embark on the adventure of a fourteenth year, it still feels like I have barely scratched the surface of all there is to tell in a community as rich as Gilroy's!
A recent newsletter of the Gilroy United Methodist Church contained an interesting article by Dispatch columnist Kat Teraji. She explained how the daughter of a former pastor (back in 1938) recently donated to the church “a wealth of artifacts and articles” from that time period.
The first church of any denomination organized in Gilroy (known as Pleasant Valley back then) held its first meeting on June 4, 1853. The church grew and eventually another Methodist church was built, so that before the Civil War, Gilroy had both a north and south Methodist Church.
Imagine my surprise when I received a phone call from a woman who said she had some Gilroy history to return our town. Her name was Carol Cox Faust, and it turned out that her father had been Rev. Ezelle Cox, pastor of the Methodist Church of Gilroy in 1938 when it burned to the ground.
It’s the time of year for vacations, so when I heard that my husband was being sent by his boss to attend a computer conference in Minnesota called “Cold Fusion.Objective” at a brand new hotel located in the Great Mall of America, it was an opportunity to visit a part of our great nation I had never seen.
This past month, Eliot Elementary School in Gilroy has been celebrating “Career Month.” I had a great time visiting as a guest speaker on the topic of writing to the entire fifth grade, in two waves of 97 students total.
My friend Edith Edde makes the biggest pots of soup in Gilroy: two pots so giant that a buff athlete can barely lift them. How she moves them around her kitchen is a mystery to me. They are filled to the brim with beans she has soaked herself until they are tender, which are added to other nutritious ingredients and served in a warm and meaty broth fit to fill the soul on a cold winter’s night.