Turkey Trotters

This year marked the 19th annual edition of the Silicon Valley Turkey Trot, a fundraising Thanksgiving morning tradition. When I realized they needed volunteers in the days leading up to the event, I signed up for a weekday slot. Because, I can.

I knew about this event, but had no idea how big it was: Fielding something like 21,000 participants entails distributing a lot of bibs (race numbers) in advance. And after so many years, the organizers were, well ... organized.

When two people were needed to staff a number look-up station and only one hand went up, I claimed the second spot. Good decision, as it turned out my partner had experience—same role, second volunteer shift.

People could also register at our station, and a few did. We were there to shepherd them through the sign-up process, if they got stuck. One woman explained that while she's normally part of a family group, there would be only two of them this year. “Will you be there?” she asked. No, I explained; I'm not a runner. “You could walk. Next year!”

True enough. The 5k would be easy.

Next year?

Spirited Silliness

Halloween is nearly here. Last year's adorable pop-up kitten was not on display at the local elementary school this year. [Bummer.]

There was one person ahead of me as I surveyed the scene this morning. The hall was festooned with webs and fake spiders, in preparation for a special event (I presumed). Then I noticed the woman at the intake table, her hair in plastic rollers and her face smeared with cold cream. [Yes, I'm old enough to know what that's about.] She checked off my name and offered a chocolate truffle. Right after breakfast? Sure, why not ...

“Albert” approached—a man with wild white hair, a bushy mustache, and a name tag noting E=mc² explained today's Blood Drive Olympics: estimate how much time it would take to donate your pint (within seconds) and win a gift card.

This was not your run-of-the-mill blood drive.

There was a flapper in a sequined sheath, and a reverend. Perhaps he frightened Count Dracula away? [Not a single vampire in sight.]

Apparently this group of volunteers has been hosting this event for many years; a couple of them spent hours, last night, decorating the hall. A dealer was set up at a blackjack table to entertain any waiting donors if things backed up.

My time estimate fell short, but following a consultation between Einstein and the reverend, I was granted a dispensation and awarded my prize.

The “special event” was us!

In Friendship

I reached out to my former teammates about repeating last fall's volunteer gig with the California Climate Action Corps. This year's event was more modest: just volunteer, without the speeches, t-shirts, and party.

Given two options, they chose to return to San José's Japanese Friendship Garden.

In addition to weeding (by hand, regrettably without the proper tools), we cleared debris from the still-empty koi ponds.

Before:

Work in progress (debris piled on burlap, for removal):

Last year they seemed to have more volunteers than they knew what to do with; this year, there were just a handful of us. And the spiral wishing well that delighted us last year had since been vandalized, and apparently set on fire.

My disappointment in my fellow human beings is evidently unbounded. But today, some of us gave our time and energy to make this little pocket of the world a nicer place.

A Thorny Problem

There is no shortage of opportunities to do volunteer work in the Bay Area, and that's probably true wherever you live. I'm not ready to commit myself to a rigid schedule, so I've been looking for suitable one-time events. That also means I can keep an eye on the weather forecast before signing up, and gives me the chance to sample the various organizations that are eager for help. Who knows, maybe someday I'll settle on one and become a regular?

Given how often I swing by the Bernal-Gulnac-Joice Ranch on my bike, it seemed most fitting to join the Friends of Santa Teresa Park for one of their monthly “beautification” days. We started with a short walk to the Santa Teresa Spring, which I'd never explored.

Our hosts shared some of the history of this land, dating back to the native tribes who relied on that spring.

The adjacent pond is infested with pond slider turtles—evidently pets abandoned by their owners. In addition to the three basking on the log, there were plenty more (of various sizes) swimming around. I'd been puzzled on one visit to see two guys arrive with fishing poles, hunting for a supposed fishing hole. Now I now that people have abandoned pet fish there, too—though the docent told us that fishing isn't permitted. I wondered why they don't remove the turtles and fish (but didn't ask; maybe next time).

Before we got started, I recognized an old cycling friend I hadn't seen in years. We were both surprised (and delighted)—but she was there to hike, not work.

We were given a choice of attacking invasive star thistle (prickly) or blackberry vines (thorny); I opted for the latter. We were only expected to cut the vines down to their roots; they were too well-established and entangled in the ceanothus bushes to consider digging them out. Which means this problem will persist, indefinitely. A drainage channel ran alongside the fence where we worked, and one hardy vine had established itself below a grate. I was frustrated that I couldn't pry the (hinged) grate loose and had to settle only for what I could lop off at the surface.

Our hosts made sure we stayed hydrated, and generously shared some apricots fresh off their tree. After wrapping up, I finally toured the historic ranch house and wondered (as always) at how simply people lived. A room for sleeping, a room for cooking, and a parlor.

I regret not taking some before-and-after shots to showcase our work, but rest assured that our hosts were impressed at how much we accomplished. The blackberry crew eradicated every vine in sight and raked all the cuttings into a few piles for county parks staff to collect.

Take a look around and pitch in sometime. If you appreciate open space, know that there is so much more work to be done than the local staff can complete.

Pollinator Party

On the lookout for another volunteer gig suitable for sharing with my former teammates, I discovered that the Don Edwards San Francisco Bay National Wildlife Refuge was hosting a “weeding party” on a weekday evening at their Alviso location. Not far from the office, that seemed ideal! The idea was to support local pollinators by removing invasive plants from their butterfly native garden.

I spent some time wandering around the marshland before the party started. I realized there were two distinct types of swallow swooping around at high speed; a helpful staff member educated me about the difference between barn swallows (forked tails) and cliff swallows (flat tails).

It was much less challenging to snap a photo of a determined black-necked stilt hunting in the shallows.

Gazing back toward the shore, the Alviso Environmental Education Center building is on the left (though it's presently closed), a landfill (sigh) is on the right, and near the trees in the middle is a small pavilion where (as it turned out) we would be weeding.

Their plans had shifted, but one former colleague and a friend were able to join me. Our assignment was to uproot and remove wild mustard plants, which were in abundance. These invasive plants spread a prodigious amount of seed and develop thick taproots, difficult to pry out of the rock-hard soil even with proper tools. I went hunting for the smaller plants that others overlooked, especially in the cool shade under the trees. I spotted a couple of invasive thistle plants lurking in a tangle of plants next to the pavilion and yanked them out, too.

Working in the refuge after hours, we were privileged to enjoy the early evening light (though, too early for sunset on a summer's evening).

Postscript: We later learned that we removed more than 75 pounds of invasive plants (mostly mustard). Now I can't stop seeing this scourge wherever I ramble around the Bay Area. I find myself tugging them out, or at least breaking off the stems before the flowers set seed. We won't win this battle, but we should carry on the fight.

California Community Climate Action Day

When my team at work proposed that we find something fun to do together, I put forth my usual suggestion: a volunteer project. And then I started looking.

Preferably outdoors (especially these days). We all spend enough time sitting at desks.

Of the two gardening opportunities I found, my colleagues favored San Jose's Japanese Friendship Garden. It was a perfect project, though with little lead time for recruiting: it was part of an upcoming California Community Climate Action Day.

The morning started with speeches at Emma Prusch Farm, a rural oasis within sight of towering freeway flyovers.

We discovered that peacocks can fly pretty high (if they must).

A couple of confused chicks managed to avoid being trodden underfoot by distracted city folk.

This gig turned out to be a pretty amazing deal: snacks (free), t-shirts (free), a burrito lunch (free) with entertainment by a solar-powered DJ. To top it off, we were gifted fresh produce from Veggielution's farm stand.

All in return for a few sweaty hours shoveling and spreading mulch, digging, planting, and picking up litter. [Balloon shards, bottle caps, cigarette butts, and at least one discarded face mask.] Thankfully, mostly in the shade (on a hot day).

No-cost team building. For a worthy cause.

Twelve Hours of Tierra Bella

I knew it would be a long day ...

Not an early riser, by nature, my choice for volunteering at a rest stop today was determined by how early I didn't have to be there. 8:00 a.m, I could manage.

Save the time I spent behind the wheel, I was on my feet the entire day (over 12,600 steps counted).

It was a team effort: Unload the truck, puzzle out how to set up the canopies and screen enclosure for the food-prep area, set up the tables and bike racks.

Fortunately, some of our crew had done this before, expertly keeping the iced water and Gatorade flowing. Without a water source onsite, we had trucked in gallon jugs of bottled water. [So. Much. Plastic. Sigh.] Maybe we should prefer rest stops where we can use a local source for water?

Our first riders rolled in before we were quite ready, though technically they were ahead of our scheduled opening time.

We didn't seem to have any particular job assignments, so I roved. When the guy staffing the hydration station stepped away, I stepped up. Three women had the food prep well in hand, so I ferried trays to and fro, letting them know when we were running low on grapes or wraps or whatever. I restocked and tidied the assortment of packaged snacks.

Our riders were stoked. It was a perfect blue-sky day (albeit a little windy). Their smiles and words of praise were energizing. I had a chance to catch up with some friends who were riding—some of whom I hadn't seen in years.

When the health inspector arrived, most of us scattered to let her conversation play out with our rest stop captain. She found some minor things she wanted addressed, and we ended up with a satisfactory grade.

As the day wore on, the riders were also worn—they were the ones following the longer routes. [I've been there.] By mid-afternoon, I was feeling pretty worn, myself.

We tore everything down and loaded it back onto the truck. That would have been easier had we remembered to use the truck's lift gate ... [duh].

Most of our crew was done, at that point. Except for two of us. The truck needed to travel on, rendezvousing at the finish area where it would be unloaded again. There, everything would be sorted for cleaning, return to storage, or rental return ... and loaded onto different trucks, accordingly.

Another friend spotted me at the finish area; most people had cleared out, but the last riders were still straggling in. [I've been there.]

My final responsibility was to follow our rest stop captain back to the truck-rental place, and then then transport her to the neighborhood where she'd parked her car.

More than twelve hours after I'd left home, I returned.

Months of planning, and years of experience, paid off: We ran a successful event and gave over 1,000 of our cycling comrades a fun (and safe) day.

Kudos to the army of volunteers who made it possible: designing routes, securing permits, purchasing supplies, coordinating logistics, laying down route arrows, managing parking, running rest stops, offering mechanical support, driving SAG vehicles, providing radio communications, and staffing tricky spots along the course to keep riders safe!

Lift and Load

Organized cycling events are back on the calendar in the Bay Area this year—hurray!

Our club has hosted one of these events (annually) for more than forty years, with the exception of the last two (of course). We were just a few weeks away from holding our event in 2020 when we had to scramble to cancel it due to the developing Covid-19 pandemic.

When I ride in one of these events, I often try to learn more about the volunteers. Some are run by bicycle clubs, like ours; others are community events, put on by local boosters. Either way, these events take a lot of coordination and the labor of an army of volunteers.

Some of us signed up to fill multiple roles (three, in my case) ... and yet we were still unable to fill some positions.

My first gig was a mailing party: To streamline the sign-in process, we mail wristbands and route sheets to all participants in advance. That reduces the number of volunteers that would be needed to validate registration and hand out the materials on event day, and makes it easier for the riders to get rolling once they arrive. I had been surprised to see several packets heading out of state!

Today was my second gig: Loading a truck with supplies for one of our rest stops. (The rest stop, in fact, which I will help to staff tomorrow.) I used half a vacation day to be able to pitch in.

The logistics are impressive. The morning crew transported all the supplies and equipment to a central location, then arranged what was needed for each individual rest stop. [Lots of checklists are involved. And they're checked once ... twice ... thrice ... ] Not to mention the months of planning that got us to this point.

Our job today was “easy”—all we had to do was load everything onto the truck that will transport it to our rest stop tomorrow morning. Preferably with some semblance of order so we can unload and set it up efficiently.

New to this undertaking, I was here to contribute brawn, not brains. [For some weak definition of brawn.] Along the way I picked up a new skill: how to climb up and into the back of a truck.

Tomorrow's gonna be a loooong day.

The Big Bike Build

Turning Wheels for Kids is a local non-profit, 15 years strong. I have been a donor since it was founded. Writing a check is easy; this year I decided to do more—to donate my time, as well.

The charity is active year-round, but many hands are needed for the annual Big Bike Build leading into the holiday season. Our bike club has been deeply involved for many years, and volunteer slots are highly coveted (I got lucky!). Being “skilled labor” [it's all relative ...], we were tasked with assembling the “big” bikes: the bikes with derailleurs and rim or disc brakes.

We worked in pairs, and it was less daunting than I had expected: the bikes were mostly assembled. We needed to unpack them, attach the handlebars, install the pedals and saddles, add the wheels and reflectors, adjust the brakes (and sometimes the derailleurs), and pump up the tires. Then we'd hand off the bike to our quality control sub-team to check our work (and give us any needed feedback).

When we faced a problem we couldn't solve, we'd tap one of our real experts for help. One bike was almost done—just needed to pump up those tires!—when we discovered that its headset needed some major adjusting. Deemed a “Franken-bike,” it was intercepted and whisked away to the master mechanics.

The logistics were impressive: from the boxes carefully arranged by model down the center of the hall, to the aggressive clean-up crew that hauled the empties out to truck-sized containers for recycling.

How did we do? My buddy and I built five of the 53 (or more) that our club assembled. By the end of the day, an army of volunteers had completed some 2,330 bicycles. I will smile on Christmas morning, thinking of all those happy, soon-to-be healthier kids!

Engineering Farmers

Although we're always encouraged to support our local communities by volunteering our time, once a year our company works with a local agency to sponsor a broad array of projects over the course of a month—and nudges us out of the office to pitch in during the work week. Projects fill up fast, and I quickly learned that the best way to work on the project of my choice was to sign up to lead it.

We all spend too much time in office buildings, so I gravitate toward the outdoors. This year, the one that aligned well with my schedule was a project to revitalize a small plot near an urban school, run by the California Native Garden Foundation.

Here they mix native plants, to restore the soil's ecosystem, with food crops. During the school year, students learn from the garden. Year-round, produce is sold at a local farmers' market.

Our representative from CNGF shared her passion about “agrihoods;” her dog, having heard all of this before, knew where to settle down in the shade.

Cell phones were stowed in favor of wielding sledgehammers and pry bars. Who doesn't enjoy the chance to do some serious demolition?

When I put out the call for volunteers, many of my teammates signed right up—including my manager. (You're not the boss of me, today!)

Everyone worked hard, and of course they're all quite clever. Count on engineers to figure out the best way to get the job done (and do it well).

At the end of our morning, the folks from CNGF surprised us with a salad of tasty (and unfamiliar) greens from the garden!

We left a big pile of debris and a garden much better than we found it, and no one got hurt in the process. (Whew!)

You, too, can volunteer!

Adopt-a-Park!

Every June, our company organizes and sponsors a month's worth of community service. We're encouraged to get out of the office and volunteer our brains and brawn. I traditionally gravitate toward the outdoors-y projects. [As if I didn't have enough yard work to do.]

We learned that the city of San Jose has more than 200 parks! And (no surprise here) there isn't enough staff to maintain them. Especially since, here in California, stuff grows ... and grows ... year round.

The project I chose this year was on the grounds of a large community center, landscaped with trees, bushes, and flowers that were out of control. Volunteering alone isn't enough for me; for many years, I have chosen to lead at least one project. This year I went all in: 100 volunteers to coordinate (one of whom stepped up to co-lead!).

We swarmed over the grounds and, in a matter of hours, transformed the place. Community members thanked us, the staff came out to marvel at what we accomplished, and city workers hauled multiple truckloads away.

I joined a crew that tackled the weeds, leaves, and assorted debris that had accumulated in the plants along the long sidewalk fronting the facility. We raked and pulled and swept faster than our comrades could load tarps and wheelbarrows to haul it away.

A few folks even stayed late, after lunch, to help the city worker load the last load into his truck.

At the end of our stint, everyone was dirty and sweaty ... and proud of what we accomplished.

Sunnyvale Community Services

“I know you just finished leading a volunteer project,” the email message read. “But we have a few that are still leaderless, and we heard you might be willing to help out.”

I'm a softie (and, the folks who run our company's annual volunteer service extravaganza know it).

I browsed the list to see if any would sync with my schedule.

Not that one. Nope, not that one, either.

I found a winner: Sunnyvale Community Services.

We often hear about the high cost of living in the Bay Area these days, and the challenges faced by low-wage earners, the jobless, senior citizens—but it's not a new problem: SCS has been in operation since 1970. They provide much more than food support for those in need. Caseworkers help folks with all sorts of setbacks—from finding a mechanic to fix a broken car, to emergency financial help to pay the bills. It doesn't take much, when someone is living on the edge, to topple over. SCS is there to catch them before they fall, before the damage is too great (loss of a job for want of a car, loss of an apartment for missing a rent payment).

Some non-profits need brain power; today, SCS just needed more hands.

Our task was to load grocery bags with non-perishables: canned green beans, refried beans, spaghetti sauce, peaches, tuna, plus peanut butter, dry beans, raisins, rice, and quinoa. [Quinoa?!]

We quickly became a well-tuned machine: some folks fed the assembly line with bags and food (and recycled the cardboard and plastic packaging); others formed the assembly line to pack each bag “just so” (forming a stackable package), while others wheeled the finished products to waiting pallets and stacked them.

Six hundred bags packed and stacked in less than 90 minutes!

RAFTing

Our company runs a worldwide community service blitz each June. Originally, it lasted one week; now, it's the whole month. During this time, we can choose from a veritable smorgasbord of projects at local charities—and volunteer our time during the workday.

For the past several years, I've been a project leader. That means a little coordination work—keeping volunteers informed and supplied with the latest t-shirts, capturing some event photos—and (of course) lending a hand.

This year I chose to lead a large group of volunteers at Resource Area for Teachers (RAFT). This is a local non-profit that supplies teachers with much-needed supplies at low cost, by upcycling donations from corporations into creative educational kits (as well as offering basic supplies like pens and paper at low cost).

Our group worked on raw materials, as well as assembling and then performing quality control checks on four different kits: Breadboard Circuits, Retractor Car, Design a House, and Simple Telescope. (And our electrical engineers thought they'd get a break from their daily routine!)

RAFT started out in 1994—it's a model that works. I volunteered with them in earlier days (late 90's), and I can attest that they've come a long way since then. They were well-organized and made good use of the time we gave them today.

By RAFT's estimates, the handiwork of our 41-person team will serve 22,500 students—not bad for a morning's worth of volunteering!

Chop, Chop

Fortunately it had been a relatively quiet week at work, with many folks adding an early extension to the upcoming July 4th holiday. Because somehow, my volunteering stints were all packed into the last week of our month-long community service extravaganza.

Since I've worked at the same company for a while, chances were that my projects would include some folks I knew; and that was true for both projects earlier this week (Sunday Friends and Castle Rock). Today's project was led by someone from our organization, and several of us joined in: Go, team!

The chefs for Loaves and Fishes Family Kitchen set us up with aprons, gloves, cutting boards, and sharp tools. Then we got to work.

One group would cut and season chickens. A lot of chickens. Another would prepare meatloaf. A third group cooked enchiladas. Somehow, trays of salad were prepared. I joined the crew prepping vegetables for a stew.

At the office, teams can sign up for sessions in an onsite “teaching kitchen.” It's a fully glass-enclosed space, and I admit that I often chuckle at my colleagues inside, many of whom have that deer-in-the-headlights look on their faces. [It's okay, that would be me, too.]

Anticipating the inefficiency our lack of experience would entail, a chef showed us this one weird trick for chopping off the broccoli florets: Hold the head upside down, by the stalk, and then whack-whack-whack the florets off with the knife. It takes a few seconds. [Wow.] Three of us could fill a large aluminum pan within a couple of minutes. Cauliflower was a bit more work; after removing the leaves and base, the best approach was to break off the florets by hand.

After we exhausted multiple cases of cruciferous veggies, we joined the rest of the crew working on potatoes (easy) and carrots (hard).

After we helped with cleanup, they estimated the number of meals we'd prepared, by type. Altogether: Five thousand. Five thousand? That's a lot of meals.

But there are so many people who need them.

Rockin' the Castle

I remember the first Earth Day. I was just a kid, but I helped haul trash out of the marshy woodland near our school, former cranberry bogs gone native. I was inspired to haul more trash out of the wooded area near my home, too.

Spend any time on the road, especially on a bicycle, and the popular dumping grounds become all too familiar. In the local neighborhood, it's small scale: cigarette butts, fast-food wrappings, bottles and cans. Get out of town, though, and there is so much more. I think of one area along Sierra Road as “The Valley of the Appliances:” washers, dryers, you name it.

I can only wonder how it all got there. I mean, if you're hauling it in the first place, why don't you just haul it to the dump? [Yes, I know. Because then you'd have to pay a disposal fee.]

My assignment today was to lead a group of colleagues for a few workday hours in the wild: Hard labor in Castle Rock State Park, on behalf of the Portola and Castle Rock Foundation.

One group would stay in the parking lot and repaint the trim on the entrance kiosk. Light duty.

Another group would hike to the Castle Rock Falls overlook and paint the railing. Beautiful view.

The third, and largest, contingent was needed to haul junk out of the creek in a not-yet-opened section of the park.

Guess which group I joined? [Hint: I'm not much for painting.]

This new tract was formerly a Christmas tree farm. Oh, the allure of exploring non-public territory, legally!

Down the hill we tromped, past the stumps of logged redwoods and one particularly massive Douglas fir. Old growth.

Of course we went down the hill, because that's where you find a creek. [And poison oak. Though I managed to emerge unscathed.]

Down means we'd be hauling the junk back up the hill. Cardio workout!

Tires. There are always tires. That's easy to understand; they roll.

Pipes, tubes, rusted wire mesh, fence posts, orange plastic netting, a traffic cone. Three lengths of narrow PVC piping encasing three heavy-gauge insulated wires. A sealed bucket full of white paint.

Really, what is all this stuff? And why is it here?

The grand prize was an unwieldy corrugated metal panel, as big as a garage door, but heavier. Down an embankment. (Of course.)

I love engineers. How best to move that behemoth called for brains as well as brawn. Pipes and shovels were pressed into service as levers, and with coordinated effort (and coordinated grunting), the panel was heaved up the hill. About six inches at a time. More importantly, no one got hurt!

Someday I'll hike along these same trails, and I will see what others cannot: The ghost of Christmases past.

Sunday Friends

During June, my employer lays out a month-long smorgasbord of community volunteering, around the globe. Most of these opportunities are scheduled during the workday, and we are generously given the time to participate.

I signed up to lead a project for the fifth year in a row, and that will happen later this week.

Then my coworkers organized a group for a different project, so I doubled down (as a regular volunteer, also this week).

And then the word came out that a few projects were in jeopardy because no one had offered to lead them.

That, I could not abide. Our local non-profits are counting on us. I surveyed the list, and regrettably ruled out one after another.

With one exception: It would be a short drive from home, on a Sunday afternoon. I just didn't have a reason not to step up.

Thus I found myself leading a small group of colleagues, along with their friends and family, volunteering outside my comfort zone: in a room packed with children (and parents), families all struggling to meet their basic needs in our community.

The stated mission of Sunday Friends is to “empower families to break the generational cycle of poverty by fostering positive development in children while educating and guiding parents to support their children's life success.”

Their approach is well-honed after two decades of service. We stepped into a room buzzing with activity: crafts and educational tasks to engage the kids, cooking and thank-you letter writing for all. There were also classes for the adults: parenting, financial literacy, English as a second language.

Our group fanned out to help where needed: tutoring, Fourth of July decorations, red-white-and-blueberry yogurt parfaits. I joined the crew working on today's hot meal, chopping onions and mincing garlic for the potato-and-red-pepper hash. Families also bring pot-luck dishes to share with all.

This program runs with a special twist: Time spent on each activity earns tickets, which can be redeemed for products at the Sunday Friends store (or banked online for future use). The store is stocked with necessities we take for granted, like household and school supplies, health and beauty products. There is also a small stock of simple toys, like stuffed animals and games. At the end of the day, every family will also go home with a bag filled with fresh produce.

For me, this was an extraordinary experience. I was apprehensive that I would be met with suspicion and resentment; instead, I found warmth and acceptance. Volunteers and families worked happily together. The room bustled with children eager (and equipped) to help with every task—even food prep. It's about pride: Pride of accomplishment. Pride of contributing to the community.

The organization's executive director (Ali) was onsite and had given our group a tour. The main room had emptied out, and I wondered if the families normally trickled away after the meal.

Not at all.

They had assembled outside to sing “Happy Birthday” to Ali; the kids had crafted a tall party hat for him. With much cheering and clapping, the crowd followed with a second joyful song, in Spanish.

I can think of no better testimonial, than that.

Take a Peak

On the long climb, I was passed by a cyclist with a catchy phrase on the back of his jersey. Emblazoned with the symbol for California State Route 89, the encouraging words were “Take a Peak.” That would make a fine slogan for next year's Low-Key Hillclimbs, I thought. Clear skies gave us clear views of three regional peaks: west to Mt. Umunhum, northwest to Mt. Hamilton, and south to Fremont Peak. Today's destination was Henry Coe State Park, a ridgetop undistinguished by name, near the Calaveras Fault. This is California's largest state park, but exploring it takes commitment: the Visitor Center is at the western edge. The rest is wild land.

The road to the park is wild enough. I spotted an acorn woodpecker inexplicably tapping at a cable splice case, a small covey of California quail, and a bevy of peafowl encircling a pickup truck in someone's driveway. Deer scampered away as I approached, but I nearly overlooked the sly young coyote trotting alongside the roadway. He rounded a bend ahead of me and vanished.

My evening was devoted to a different sort of peek: for the first time, the local Fantasy of Lights was opened for a one-night-only walking tour. People have requested this access for years, and the county parks department decided to give it a try. As a volunteer, my role was to keep people safe: on the paved road, off the dark trails, and away from the lighting displays. Bundled up for the chilly five-and-a-half hour shift, I began to regret my decision to help.

The parks department had no idea what to expect, though some 500 people had purchased tickets in advance.

There were couples strolling hand-in-hand. Multi-generational families. Children in strollers and wagons, including one three-car Choo Choo Wagon, complete with lights. A couple spontaneously waltzing to a Christmas song.

“Hi, sweetie. I know it's really hard, the lights are so pretty, but please don't touch them, okay?” That line worked well. The dad looked at his toddler and laughed. “Busted!” he told her. “She's going to tell you that you can't go that way,” another dad told his son. I smiled, “Right, you can't take the trail tonight.” [Parenting by proxy is popular.]

I chose one of the less glamorous zones; only two of us volunteered to staff it. One hour in, I thought “this is going to be a lo-o-ong night.”

The bridge was a busy spot for photos. It reminded some of fireworks; others, of a counter filled with colorful bins of candy. What surprised me most was the popularity of another display: The American Flag. Here I am, stationed next to a symbol unrelated to the holidays. There are tunnels of light, trains and snowmen, animated gingerbread cookies jumping rope, toy soldiers and elves and penguins, even dinosaurs. The flag seemed out of place.

I was wrong.

“The American flag!” kids squealed as they ran toward it. At least two of them put their hands over their hearts and launched into the Pledge of Allegiance. “Take a picture of the flag with grandpa!”

We are a nation of immigrants. Tonight I was reminded that this symbol has a deep significance to many. Five and a half hours well-spent.