French philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville visited America in 1835
expecting to find a nation of selfish capitalists.
French philosopher Alexis de Tocqueville visited America in 1835 expecting to find a nation of selfish capitalists.
Instead, he found an egalitarian country of independent thinkers with an amazing amount of charity. The paradox intrigued him. Why would people who have so much, be so quick to give their time and money to strangers?
The dictionary defines a volunteer as someone who “offers himself for a service willingly and without pay. A person who acts without legal obligation to do so.”
Kind of like the sunflower that was growing on Tenth Street across from Christmas Hill Park this summer. A bird must have dropped a seed on the untilled shoulder and – under no legal obligation – the seed chose to grow.
At first, it just looked like a stringy weed. But before long, there was a bright yellow and brown face bobbing at everyone who drove by.
I was amazed at how much this solitary flower brightened my every day journeys. I went that route as often as possible just to catch its smile.
Not counting plants, Gilroy has a lot of volunteers. People who choose to stand in a hard place and make the world a better place just by being in it.
We can see and feel the results of those efforts. In spite of its size, Gilroy still has that small town community essence. I believe it’s because working together – volunteering together – binds us together.
All over town, ordinary citizens donate thousands of hours to the city, non-profit groups, sport programs, cultural events and churches.
Most of those residents are also raising a family, maintaining a house and holding down a job – in other words, it’s not like they don’t have anything else to do.
Why do they do that?
When it comes to the 4,000-plus volunteers who make our Garlic Festival hum each year, at least some of them aren’t exactly doing it without “legal” obligation. They’re there as a service to their families. They have kids who attend a school, belong to a club or participate in a sport that requires parents to help raise funds.
My first job at the festival was as a Brownell parent directing traffic in the parking lots. Even though that was many years ago, I empathize with those still serving out in the hot, dry, dusty, choking, no shade, stubble for five hours. Indubitably, the worst festival job I’ve ever had!
Some work at the festival for a cause instead of a kid. That ‘s usually rewarding and can be loads of fun.
My favorite job at the festival was the year our church made garlic bread in Gourmet Alley. The chefs manning the huge, hot fry pans were as good at entertaining as they were at cooking. About every 10 to 15 minutes, they’d yell, “Fire in the hole” and we’d all stop to cheer and yell. Garlicky guests would stand at the fence to watch or talk to us. Television crews and reporters were there with microphones and cameras … aaaaah. Sweating was never so sweet.
In addition to the parental duties and non-profit fundraising, some festival volunteers help just because it adds to the well being of our community. Smiling, laughing, directing wagons of food, these folks “work” for months before the three-day party, are on duty the entire weekend and then, before the last pan is washed and put away, they start brainstorming how to make it better next year.
Our 27th chapter is finished. The tents are coming down. Volunteers are returning to their non-festival efforts. In a few months, we’ll find out how much we made and which groups will have new found funding for their civic minded goals.
… epilogue on the sunflower: it disappeared.
Maybe city workers cut it down in preparation for the festival. Maybe it got broken when someone drove, biked or walked too close. Maybe a teacher saved it for a classroom or a mom thought it would be fun to make homemade sunflower seeds as a end-of-summer project.
I miss it’s fierce gumption to grow in the hard soil, unwatered and unfertilized by the hands of man. But, I’m believing that it dropped a few seeds before leaving. And, I’m firmly persuaded that at least one of those seeds will choose to grow for us next spring.
I think Tocqueville would have liked it here.
