July 12th is Ray Pivec Day
by Brad Nelson
“Grant me the strength,” began the words of a prayer, “to change for the better the things that I can change, for the tolerance and patience to endure those things which I cannot change, and most of all, for the wisdom to know the difference.”
Some time back I noticed that when I left my cap in the pick-up the cashiers at KFC and the Golden Corral were prone to ask if I qualified for the Senior Citizens discount. Every now and again one of them would charge me the “senior” rate without asking. Now I could change the color of my hair from the gray it has become, but I won’t. Others my age no longer try to rib me about the color of my hair. In most cases their hair is the same color or worse. And the comment, “At least I have hair on my head” becomes an unfair come-back to others.
Among the things we would like to change but cannot are other people. Unfortunately this becomes the first rude awakening of some young husbands and wives. You may be able to change yourself. You will never be able to change another. It is very possible, however, to influence another person and to help them make correct decisions as they go through life.
A few years back a number of us helped a 14-year-old young man care for his grandfather’s peach orchard while Grandpa was out of the country for close to two years trying to help some people in Bulgaria help themselves to a better life. On Grandpa’s return young Kyle proudly reported that not one of the peach trees had died in his care. “That,” said the grandfather, “is all I asked you to do, and I knew you could do it. That’s why I trusted you to care for my orchard while I was gone.” Kyle had proved himself to his grandfather, but more important, he had proved himself to himself. That proof would last a lifetime.
“Lead, follow, or get out of the way!” I wish I could find a bumper sticker that said just that. It kind of reminds me of the only brother-in-law I ever had. He took our only sister “out of circulation” when they were both in their early forties.
Ray once had someone in the Boy Scout office call him with a strange question. Ray was a scoutmaster for a number of years, and anyone familiar with the Boy Scouts can tell you that half of the fun is filling out forms. The lady who called said, “Mr. Pivec, on the form you sent in someone has listed your occupation as ‘beach bum.’ Could you possibly give us your real occupation?” After a good laugh Ray explained that he and my sister had been fortunate enough to retire a little earlier than most, and since that happy day, a job had not interfered with his Boy Scout troop. After the scouts, the most time he spent in any one place other than home was on the beach, so the form the lady was looking at was indeed correct. He was a professional beach bum.
Ray was native to Ormond Beach, which is near Daytona Beach, Florida, where they retired to. The Thanksgiving holidays usually found my sister back in Idaho with family. The Daytona Beach racetrack had a major event over Thanksgiving weekend, at which Ray’s scout troop had a hot dog and soda concession stand. Ray said that he just had to be there since the proceeds from the pop and hot dogs funded the activities of the scout troop for the whole year.
I got to visit Ray a few months before he lost his battle with cancer in August of 2007. When Ray and my sister and I arrived at the church parking lot the one Sunday I spent with them on the long weekend visit, a group of young men surrounded the car. They unloaded Ray’s wheelchair, and then there was a heated discussion on who got the honor of wheeling their beloved former scoutmaster into the building.
Months later at Ray’s funeral one young man, now married and with a child of his own, said that he had never known his father. He told me that he was everything he had become because of the example and direction he had received from Ray Pivec over the many years he had been one of Ray’s scouts. Ray had traveled the world. He had swam among the sharks while scuba diving, and was expert with a surfboard and at deep-sea fishing. What meant most to Ray, however, were those young men, many without the influence of a father, whom he had guided into honorable manhood. I sent my sister the following e-mail pertaining to my “proper and respectful” observance of “Ray Pivec Day.”
I did wear a shirt with flowers on it on the 12th, (July 12 was Ray’s birthday), but it was not a “Hawaiian” flowered shirt. First thing in the morning I met potential hay buyers from Japan at the export hay plant which I manage, and made sure they got a good picture of me holding my 12-inch hay sample knife at the throat of the interpreter, “to show the company back in Japan that things are very difficult out here!”
The next event of the day was the sled pull. (Pick-ups with various modifications hook up to a weighted “sled” and see how far they can pull it. The farther down the track the sled goes the farther off of the wheels and onto the skid the weight moves. The whole sled weighs 24,000 pounds. Google “sled pull” images and you will see some pictures and videos of what goes on.)
They made me run in the “modified” class, and out of eight trucks, my little, old, almost 12-year- old Dodge with less than $500 in modifications took 2nd place. Some fellows with new trucks and thousands of dollars in modifications were not at all happy with me. I got a nice trophy and $75 in prize money. Since the entry fee was $40 I came out $35 ahead. I heard that several spectators wanted to know just what I had done to that little plain-looking farm truck to make it run so strong pulling the sled.
The next event was the Royal City drag races. (Ray Pivec Day fell on the same day as the Royal City “summer fest” this year.) I went down to help man the ambulance. We actually had some minor excitement that called for the ambulance and fire trucks to get some action. Luckily, no one was injured. Dean Callahan puts a lot of time, money and effort into the drag races each year, which are held at a private airport near Royal City. It gives the local kids a place to race that keeps them from killing each other on the public roads.
I thought you would enjoy knowing that I at least remembered Ray’s birthday and celebrated it in a manner that I’m sure Ray would have approved of.
Now that everyone knows about it, I expect all readers to properly observe Ray Pivec Day on July 12 of each year. In a manner that Ray would have approved of. HG
