Emergence of the necessary volunteer: senior park volunteers—working at their leisure

Parks & Recreation, May, 2005 by Will La Page

Many years ago, while working as a seasonal park ranger, I had the memorable pleasure of meeting a couple of senior hikers. Almost every spring and fall weekend, Ben and Mary would show up--backpacks filled with brush clippers, a collapsible saw, a small shovel, a trail axe, and pulley and ropes. Just as faithfully, before heading off to hike the extensive trail system--with its water bars to repair, fallen trees to remove and the ever-growing trailside brush to clip--they would take a few minutes to visit with the park staff, discussing the trails that needed the most attention.

It was an unspoken secret that their knowledge of trail conditions was superior to ours. The small staff had no time for trails. Between maintaining picnic areas and campgrounds, cleaning toilets, collecting fees and staffing the park store, we had no available hours to attend to trail management. As Ben and Mary headed up the mountain, to our obvious envy, we would return to slapping another coat of stain on picnic tables that should have been replaced years earlier, unplugging toilets and repairing the ever-failing water system.

Ben, a retired physician, and his wife Mary were park volunteers before the volunteer idea had fully germinated--before we began to recognize, organize and coordinate them, and before we began to worry about things like liability. We didn't consider them our extended staff, nor did they see themselves as anything more than ordinary hikers. If it had occurred to us to categorize them, they would have been in a category by themselves; maybe even "hikers with a conscience," but never "volunteers." Ben and Mary were working at their leisure, continuing a valued tradition of public trail stewardship on Mt. Monadnock in southwestern New Hampshire.

Fifty years later, volunteerism in parks is no longer a curiosity--it is a necessity. The Bens and Marys number in the hundreds of thousands at uncounted parks all across America. They still work on trails, but they also do campground hosting, endless grass mowing, interpretive programs, visitor center staffing and help with park planning. Volunteerism has evolved since the early days of Ben and Mary; its contracts, insurance, inch-thick volunteer manuals, paid coordinators, and an emerging skepticism from higher ups about their growing "power." That power, the act of one segment of the public taking back some of the responsibility for their parks, represents a monumental step away from the "let-government-do-it" philosophy of the mid-20th century.

The wave of park volunteerism was neither professionally inspired or agency-ordained. In fact, it was often actively discouraged and continues to be resisted in some park systems. It happened as a natural outgrowth of burgeoning demands on parks with relatively static budgets. And seniors were always in the forefront.

At issue today is how the powerful force of volunteerism should be sustained and encouraged to grow for the benefit of America's public park systems. Volunteerism as recreation has been replaced by volunteerism as an extension of park management. In many parks, you cannot be an unsanctioned volunteer. You must be recognized and registered, your work must be approved in advance, and must often be part of a park plan.

Some volunteers get the benefit of insurance and workmen's compensation, or free-use privileges at their park. Volunteer accomplishments show up in the annual report--and rightfully so. But, has all this bureaucratization of volunteerism turned away the Bens and Marys, whose connection to the land never translated to a connection with the bureaucracy?

Coordinating volunteerism is like managing wilderness. Both have to be applied in moderation, because both have the potential to diminish the experience. The basic attraction of the wild is a feeling of freedom from regulation and regimentation. Wilderness volunteer organizations, because they combine both concepts, are probably our best models for "managing" volunteerism. Having been schooled in the necessity of recreation, we certainly know that senior volunteerism is neither pure altruism nor a second career. What it really is for many is necessary, healthful, recreation. Senior volunteerism is a feeling of being useful, of being valued in a society that places a premium on youth.

For many seniors (who often have the time and luxury to volunteer), the need to "give something back" is tangible and urgent. It is, quite literally, an act of thanksgiving for gifts received. Ben and Mary had a personal relationship with their mountain and its trails, and a need to nurture that relationship.

Suppose that one day they had hiked part way up the mountain to work on the Cascade Link trail, and felt an urge to go work on the sunnier Thoreau trail instead? They wouldn't have been where we expected them to be, doing what we expected them to do. But their day would have been better, more rewarding, and more likely to incubate more volunteer days. By following their urge, they would have enjoyed a day of real recreation. To have ignored it would have been a day of work.