Special to the HT
MEEKER | Recently, I found myself reflecting on an unexpected question: At what point does history become part of history?
As a historian, I spend much of my life studying the people who came before us. Recently, another question has been weighing on my mind:
At what point does volunteerism become part of history?
Since Meeker was incorporated in 1885, every generation has inherited a community built by the one before it. Our forefathers didn’t simply build homes and businesses. They built traditions. They organized celebrations, established churches, created civic organizations, maintained cemeteries, supported schools, founded museums, and organized events that would one day become institutions.
The Range Call Celebration didn’t become a 141-year tradition because someone was paid to make it happen. The Meeker Pageant didn’t continue for decades before it was abandoned last year on its own. The Meeker Classic Sheepdog Championship Trials didn’t become an internationally recognized event by accident. Whether it’s the White River Yurt, Meekerpalooza, the Bank Robbery Reenactment, the Root Beer Float Stand, our winter celebrations, or countless other community traditions, they all exist because ordinary citizens stepped forward and volunteered.
Volunteerism isn’t something we added to our community.
It is the foundation upon which our community was built.
Our history is filled with people who quietly gave of themselves because they believed Meeker was worth the effort. Some donated time. Others donated resources. One of the finest examples was Freeman Fairfield. After finding tremendous success in California’s oil industry, he never forgot his hometown. His generosity helped establish a hospital, provided Meeker’s first ambulance, supported local churches, created a Christmas trust for senior citizens, and ultimately made possible what we know today as the Fairfield Center. His legacy reminds us that success is measured not only by what we earn, but by what we give back.
There is another kind of generosity that often goes unnoticed. Time.
For many of us who own businesses or work for ourselves, volunteering isn’t simply giving up an evening. It means closing the shop, delaying customer work, postponing projects, attending meetings instead of earning income, and hoping customers will still be there tomorrow.
Sometimes they aren’t.
Sometimes they simply go somewhere else because they can’t wait. I don’t blame them. Their needs are just as real as my commitment to the community. But once that customer is gone, so is the opportunity.
That is the hidden economic cost of volunteerism. Every parade, festival, museum exhibit, youth program, fundraiser, cemetery project, and community celebration is paid for twice: once with dollars and again with the time, income, and personal sacrifice of the volunteers who make it happen.
Most never complain.
They simply keep showing up.
The problem is that there are fewer people showing up.
Across America, volunteerism has declined, and Meeker is not immune. The same dedicated people often serve on multiple boards, organize multiple events, and carry responsibilities that once belonged to many more hands. Age, health, changing lifestyles, and burnout all play a role. They continue because they care, but even the most dedicated volunteers eventually become tired.
Communities don’t lose their traditions overnight.
They lose them one volunteer at a time.
Perhaps the hardest part isn’t the work itself. It’s hearing criticism from people who have never shared the load.
Social media has made it easy to point out what should have happened, what wasn’t done well enough, or what someone else should have organized. But communities don’t organize themselves. They don’t preserve themselves. And they certainly don’t throw themselves a party.
People do.
Every tradition we enjoy exists because someone decided to raise a hand and say, “I’ll help.”
The true heroes of every small town are rarely the ones standing in the spotlight. They are the ones setting up the chairs before the event begins, staying after everyone has gone home to clean up, serving on another committee after working all day, or quietly sacrificing income from their own businesses because they believe their community is worth the investment. They willingly give up evenings, weekends, business opportunities, family time, and personal income so that the rest of us can enjoy the traditions that make Meeker special.
They deserve more than criticism.
They deserve our gratitude.
If you enjoy the Range Call, thank a volunteer.
If you enjoy the Sheepdog Trials, thank a volunteer.
If you appreciate our museums, parks, cemeteries, youth programs, churches, service clubs, or community events, thank the volunteers who make them possible.
Then ask a simple question: “How can I help?”
The men and women we now admire as community builders probably never imagined they would one day become part of Meeker’s history. They simply showed up when they were needed. They volunteered. They served. And because they did, we inherited the community we enjoy today.
Every tradition we celebrate today exists because someone before us chose to volunteer. The traditions we have lost were not lost because people stopped caring. They were lost because there were no longer enough people willing to carry them forward.
History will not remember us for the complaints we posted online or the events we wished someone else had organized. It will remember whether we were willing to carry forward what was entrusted to us.
History is not only something we preserve. It is something we create.
The question is whether future generations will be able to say the same about us.
“What kind of ancestors are we going to be?”
BY TERESIA R. RUCKMAN-REED