Fifty Years of People Who Cared
Last week, I had the privilege of attending the 50th anniversary celebration of the Mishawaka Res. The evening was filled with memories, gratitude, and stories about a place that has touched generations of families across our community.
One of the evening's special moments was recognizing my father, Phil Rea, who was among the founders of the organization that purchased and preserved the property a half century ago. While I am incredibly proud of my dad's leadership, I know he would be the first person to redirect attention away from himself and toward the many people who made this story possible.
In the early 1970s, the property's future was uncertain. The land had served as a Boy Scout camp, but financial difficulties led the Scouts to sell it. A private developer saw the site as an opportunity for a housing subdivision. There was nothing unusual about that. Communities grow, land changes hands, and development often signals progress.
But a group of local citizens saw something different.
They recognized that once this special place was gone, it would be gone forever. They saw the woods, trails, open spaces, and facilities not simply as acreage on a map, but as a community treasure. They imagined a place where children could learn about nature, where families could gather, where schools could explore the outdoors, and where future generations could experience the same beauty that they enjoyed.
My father helped lead the effort to bring people together and make preservation possible. My grandfather was also an early supporter. But they were part of a much larger movement comprised of community leaders, volunteers, families, and ordinary citizens from all walks of life. Some donated money. Others contributed expertise. Some volunteered their time and their muscles. Many simply believed the property was worth saving.
As I reflected on the evening, what impressed me was that the Mishawaka Res has never really belonged to any one individual or group. Its story is one of collective ownership and shared responsibility. That spirit has continued for fifty years.
Over the years, thousands of volunteers have given their time. Board members have provided leadership. Donors have stepped forward when resources were needed. Rangers have worked tirelessly to care for the property and expand its educational mission. Parents have introduced their children to the trails, streams, and forests. Teachers have brought students to learn about the natural world. Generation after generation has invested in keeping the Res alive and vibrant.
I have been fortunate to play a small role in that story myself. Following in the footsteps of my father, I served on the board for many years, including several years as president, and spent countless hours volunteering. I served alongside some terrific leaders. Those experiences deepened my appreciation not only for the property itself, but also for the remarkable community of people who support it.
Places like the Mishawaka Res do not sustain themselves. They endure because people choose to care. They survive because individuals decide that preserving a community asset is worth the effort. They flourish because each generation accepts responsibility for passing something meaningful on to the next.
As we celebrate fifty years, perhaps the greatest lesson of the Mishawaka Res is that ordinary people can accomplish extraordinary things when they work together around a shared vision. Fifty years ago, citizens came together to save a special place. Today, we continue to benefit from their foresight and determination.
The best way to honor their legacy is to continue their work.
If you have never visited the Res, spend an afternoon exploring it. If you have children or grandchildren, bring them along. Consider volunteering, supporting a program, contributing, or simply becoming an advocate for the organization.
The next chapter of the Mishawaka Res story will depend on people who care just as much as those who stepped forward a half century ago. Thankfully, our community has no shortage of people like that.
