Disappointment to the point of anger. That is a rare emotion for me, but it was what surfaced the other week when I saw Rick on the front page of the Rustler. If you haven’t been living in a vacuum, you know Rick was the maintenance supervisor at Salinas Valley Fairgrounds for over four decades until he recently handed in his keys to the SVF kingdom and was given a fond farewell. It was the farewell event that fueled my disappointment only because I wasn’t there. Sounds selfish, I know, so here is a little history that may shed some light on why I initially reacted as I did.
As it is in small towns, one can know of people without really knowing them in the sense of them being close friends. In my younger years where we lived determined our relationships, I was part of the Fifth Street Gang from the mid-50s until Easter of 1963 when my family moved westward, across Main Street, to Ninth Street so those of us then were of a kindred spirit, as they say. But in the classroom and the play fields we became associated with those outside our childhood zones; this social construct was how over the years I came to know of Danny, Yvonne, Ricky and Tony Grogan, young’uns of Arkansas natives Mel and Charlotte Grogan.
As the years rolled by into adulthood, Danny and I grew closer and through that friendship I came to know ‘Vonne, then Ricky, then Tony. A couple years later, along came Shaun bringing the number to seven in that Grogan clan. And though Tony is gone now, he and his brothers and sisters were over the years and at different times as close to me as my own brothers. But the story and photos in the June 17 issue of the Rustler wasn’t given by family and friends, it was hosted by the SVF, and so it is understandable the multitudes who know Rick would overspill the Rava arena, so I am less irritated at not getting invited; and I’m not alone.
But I could argue that, many moons ago, for eight Fair runs I was employed as a temporary member of Rick’s maintenance crew; some years the gig lasted three weeks, others 20 days or so; once six weeks while we poured cement and replaced barn windows. I like to think that it wasn’t just hometown nepotism on Rick’s part that he hired me; I could be pretty handy back then. To let you know what kind of worker/friend I could be to Rick, there was one year when early on in the run things were pretty hectic, always somebody wanting Rick to be here and be there all at the same time, and I could see he needed a break but wasn’t ask for it himself so I went and got a forklift, loaded a building on it and dropped it on him. He got the rest of the fair off. And he didn’t need to thank me for it then nor does he now; it is just what a needed friend like me does. (That reminds me of an old saying, but I can’t recall it right now.)
Life on the fairgrounds with its near constant activities beyond the annual four-day Fair included a couple generations of kids; first with his two daughters and all their friends and then with his grandkids and their friends. Rick’s 42 years of service covering every square foot of the reservation both inside and outside are unique and noteworthy. One asks how did he do it all those years? I know. The answer lies in a heart and soul deeply rooted here in South County valleys and hills: Teresa. That is how Rick made it through all the chaos of four decades of work and fun, Teresa. Ask anybody.
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I want to add a quick note here regarding the Rustler’s story and photos mentioned above. Ivan Garcia’s front-page photo is a keeper; he captured the quintessential Rick look.
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We are three days away from marking two-and-a-half millenniums as a self-governing, democratic republic. Not since the years marking the war fought within our borders to bring an end to slavery in America, and to a somewhat lesser degree the violent days of the civil rights movement or the halcyon days of the anti-war movement, have Americans been so divided politically and socially. There is no quick fix to this schism, the rift will not be mended nor even superficially treated anytime soon.
What I can do for myself is to take the time between now and when I take the announcer’s stand for the parade this coming Saturday morning and read the Declaration of Independence in its entirety. A couple of things have been said about our two founding documents; one is the Declaration of Independence is our Mission Statement and the Constitution is our User’s Guide and the other is the Constitution is the framework around our canvas of Freedom.
While the one is a lengthy document, always under interpretation and occasionally changing to better define both citizen’s and government’s rights and responsibilities; the other is a single page, 1,337-word letter informing the world of its intention and reasons for separation from tyrannical oppression.
We as Americans should not take these documents and the ideals and principles they espouse for granted but should periodically read the list of abuses in the Declaration and the goals set out in the preamble to the Constitution to make sure the abuses do not recur and the goals are still being reached for and attained. When we know what the founding members of the new America wanted for their fledgling nation, we can better determine within ourselves how to support or oppose our decisions in the ballot box. And far to the contrary of what has circulated through the ether in the past decade, American ballots are secure.
Take care. Peace.
King City and Greenfield columnist Steve Wilson may be reached at sc**********@***oo.com.
