Rolling Stones
Valley Games continues from page 1
I’ll let Helen take it from here…
by Alexa Davidson Executive Director Rooted There is a word we’ve been returning to often at the Community Center lately: rooted . It’s a simple word, but it holds so much. To be rooted is to feel connected: to a place, to people, to a sense of belonging that grounds you in who you are and where you are. It’s something we
Credits Stone Soup is printed four times a year and reflects the diverse cultural interests of the Community Center and the Valley. Though it is a publication of the San Geronimo Valley Community Center, it is meant as a journal for everyone in or around the Valley. We are interested in your input. If you have any comments, ideas for articles or columns, news, art, stories, poetry, photography, or infor- mation for the publication, please forward them to: The Stone Soup Editorial Committee c/o San Geronimo Valley Community Center, 6350 Sir Francis Drake Blvd. P.O. Box 194, San Geronimo, CA 94963. Phone (415) 488-8888 • email: dfogel@sgvcc.org, or visit www.sgvcc.org. Stone Soup does not exercise editorial control on the content of submissions by organizations, byline columnists, or display ads. We reserve the right to refuse to publish ads or submissions. Editorial Committee: Danielle Fogel, Alexa Davidson, Jessica O’Connell, David Russ Proofreading: Alexa Davidson, Danielle Fogel, Poko Giacomini Production: David Russ, Russ Ranch Productions David Lakes, President Amy Waterhouse, Co-Vice President Alexander McQuilkin, Co-Vice President Kelly Lawson Morgan Patton Heather Richardson Liora Soladay Gordon White San Geronimo Valley Community Center Board Members Printing: Marin Sun Ads: Danielle Fogel Alan Weiler, Treasurer John Beckerley, Secretary Buddy Faure Zachary Goodman Brandon Johnson In my first weeks working at the Center something Dave Cort said really stuck with me. We were working on a budget for a youth substance abuse and prevention program that we run in partnership with the County of Marin and West Marin Community Services. Dave said the gym should be in use all the time. I had never really thought about our activities as substance prevention. This was the start of my mind and heart opening to the fact that our programs and services are so much more than what they seem on the surface. There’s connection and being a safe space without unhealthy choices. At the senior lunch, there’s conversation and connec- tion and a chance for people to check in on each other. Our Human Services team is able to provide resources they might not know people need if we didn’t have this weekly touch point. Another Valley highlight is our incredible artists and musicians! I married into a rock band. This has given me 25 years of an extended family. I am so excited that New Monsoon will bring their sound to San Geronimo as part of Valley Games. New Monsoon has been the soundtrack for half of my 50 years so it’s only fitting for them to help send me into the next 25! So practice your hula hooping, get your high point Scrabble words ready, warm up your hacky sack skills and get ready to see me on the dance floor. At the overnight camp I went to for 12 years an annual activity was the color war. The entire camp was divided into teams by color. The teams compete against each other in activities for the day like tug-of-war, water balloon tosses, relay races. For many summers I would lose my voice because although the athletic competitions were not my strength, cheering for my campmates was the way I would participate and earn points for my team. When the Center started to host the Valley Games I immediately was ready to participate. I missed the Valley Games in 2024 to be at the funeral for my 103-year-old, father- in-law, Jack. What a celebration of a well lived life. My time with him really high- lighted that if you do the simple things we have learned about, eat well, get some sleep, move your body around, lift some heavier things and spend time with other people you might get to live a long healthy life. I might not live to 103 but in the past couple of years I have started lifting weights and prioritizing being with friends. Working at the Center is a daily dose in connection and laughter. I thought, what better way to get more people to the Center than to invite them to my 50th birthday and showcase all the ways the Center keeps us healthy, physically, mentally and emotionally. I have told the story of my initiation into the Center many times. The first day of the gym opening was the opening day of my son’s first CYO basketball season. We walked into the gym 25 years or more in the making. I saw all the tiles of donors, I knew some names and not others. I decided that all of these people had put their energy, time and dollars into the gym and I would step up and get involved then too. I joined the board a few months later. Years later, a job opportunity came up and I went for it. After being on the board, using many of the Center’s services, my children in the youth programs and attending many arts and events I feel truly part of something unique. I am celebrating my 5 year mark as a staff member here this month.
talk about in our work, but it’s also something I feel every single day. Working at the San Geronimo Valley Community Center is, in many ways, an experi- ence of living inside memory. I walk the same campus where I once went to school and see people I’ve known since childhood. There is something deeply meaningful about knowing the Community Center is woven into people’s daily and weekly routines. The familiar rhythm of cars pulling in, laughter echoing from the lunchroom, and the steady, almost clockwork setup of our programs by dedicated staff and volunteers all feel like vis- ible signs of roots taking hold. What’s become increasingly clear to me is that being rooted somewhere is not just about history. It’s not even about how long you’ve been here or how many people you recog- nize. Community is not passive. It is something we actively foster, sustain, and choose to build, over and over again. Even here, in a place where I know so many people, I am still creating my community. Being rooted requires showing up, reaching out, deciding to connect with people beyond a passing interaction. It asks us to reach out, to participate, to invest in one another. It is not just that we have roots—it’s that our roots are intertwined. I recently learned that redwood trees, though they grow so tall and strong, their root sys- tems are surprisingly shallow. What keeps them standing is not depth alone, but connec- tion. Their roots weave together beneath the surface, holding each other upright, sharing strength across the forest. That is what this community feels like to me. Some of us have been here for generations. Some are just beginning to take root. But all of us, in one way or another, are part of that shared network—holding and being held. And that is why it is so painful to witness when people are forced to uproot. I see it in young families who love this place but can no longer afford to stay—where the cost of childcare, housing, and healthcare makes it impossible to deepen their roots. I see it in older adults who have spent a lifetime here, now facing the reality that aging in place is no longer viable, and must leave behind not just their homes, but their commu- nity, their identity, their sense of belonging. When people are uprooted, something profound is lost. Not just for them, but for all of us. I think about this often in the context of our work at the Community Center. At its core, our role is to help people grow and sustain roots here. Sometimes that looks like meet- ing basic needs—food access, affordable childcare, senior support. Sometimes it looks like something less tangible but just as essential: creating spaces for connection, for culture, for the small, human moments where relationships begin. A conversation on a field trip. A shared meal. A familiar face in a time of need. These are the threads that weave a community together. And yet, we are navigating a moment where many of the systems that support rooted- ness feel increasingly fragile. Funding for early childhood education is declining. Mental health resources are being reduced. Support for the arts—so often a gateway to connec- tion and expression—is more limited than ever. At the same time, members of our com- munity are facing real fear and uncertainty, particularly those navigating the realities of aggressive immigration enforcement. In the midst of all of this, we recently had the honor of hosting Javier Zamora at the Community Center. In his memoir, Solito, he recounts his journey from El Salvador to the United States at just nine years old, traveling alone to reunite with his parents in the Canal District of San Rafael. Listening to him speak to a courtyard of more than 400 people, I was struck not only by the power of his story, but by his call to action. He told us that this is a moment to be brave, to be loud, to stand up for one another. That we cannot wait for someone else to protect our neighbors—we must do it ourselves. As I read his book, I couldn’t stop thinking about what my own life looked like at nine years old. Javier and I are nearly the same age. While I was here—rooted in this commu- nity, surrounded by familiarity and support—he was navigating an unimaginable journey, separated from everything he knew. That contrast has stayed with me. It has deepened my understanding of what it means to be rooted—and what it means when that rootedness is disrupted, or denied altogether. So much of what we do at the Community Center is about creating the conditions for people to belong. To feel safe. To feel connected. To put down roots—or to grow them stronger. And maybe that’s what I keep coming back to. Being rooted is not something we do alone. It is something we create together. It lives in the ways we show up for one another. In the ways we protect and advocate for our neighbors. In the choices we make to invest in this place—not just as individuals, but as a collective.
We are the forest. And it is our connection to one another that allows us to stand tall.
Page 2 SGV Community Center Stone Soup
Jean Berensmeier, Founder
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