Making of an Advocate.
by Charlie Center
I sat at the table with my legs crossed while adult voices rose and fell around me. Earlier I had been following the conversation, but now my mind drifted to swimming in the river and my latest science fiction novel. My parents had dragged me to these meetings for as long as I could remember. The adults gathered and talked about conservation and other environmental issues, the importance of which were, in my mind, a few rungs below the 49ers recently trading Joe–Freakin’-Montana.
Once I reached my teenage years, I began to talk more openly with my parents about local, state, and national conservation causes. By that time, I had been deeply impacted by the things I witnessed growing up. But, on a fundamental level, I would still default to my disbelief that something could forever take away or alter the rivers, mountains, and open spaces that I loved.
As a young adult, I ventured out into the world. I was fortunate enough to travel to other countries and kayak down rivers flowing through wild and pristine canyons. Vibrant healthy communities would be nestled along their banks. At the same time, I began to see vast hydro-projects both fill and threaten to fill these same canyons that I had navigated. I thought back to my parents, whose way of life was fundamentally altered by the damming of the Stanislaus River. The people in these communities and countries I had visited, like my parents decades ago, had lived, played and laughed on the banks of the rivers only to watch the water rise and drown what they had always known and thought immutable. I began to realize that nothing is guaranteed for the natural world around us. There is no invisible hand that will protect the places we love. The closest we have to that invisible hand, is us. The river and open spaces in our backyards are not guaranteed; their continued existence is not a right. We must be the stewards, the watchers, the protectors of the wild places.
The meetings my parents brought me to as a child were for Friends of the River (FOR). I am 38 years old now. For as long as I can remember, FOR has been rising up to defend places we cherish. Recently, I joined FOR at the table as a board member with young kids of my own sitting and listening. My hands now join the many that help watch, steward, and defend the rivers and canyons of our great state. Now more than ever, we need these invisible hands, watchers, and protectors for each river canyon – from the far north to the southern tip. Join this amazing community in protecting California rivers from their headwaters that tumble down the high mountains, through the great valley and cities, until freshwater hits salt of the Pacific Ocean.