This weekend, I’m going fly fishing—something I thought retirement looked like. I’ll finally be on the river, a gift from the dedicated seniors who once advised me at City Hall. They rolled up their sleeves to represent Meridian’s older residents. When I stepped out of office, they didn’t stop serving. They formed Meridian Senior Volunteers (MSV) and kept going. Meanwhile, they sent me into retirement fully equipped—including everything I needed to learn how to fly fish.
It made me think about the people who say yes.
I know something about where a simple yes can lead. Long before I became mayor, bringing parks and open space to our community was my first “why.” I said yes to opportunities to get involved, learn and serve. One yes led to another, then another. Eventually, those yeses led me all the way to the mayor’s office.
Years later, I still see people throughout Meridian doing the same thing. They serve on commissions and committees, mentor young people, organize food drives, plan community events and step into needs most of us will never see. Volunteers range from grade-school students to people in their nineties, each bringing different perspectives and life experiences. What they share is a heart for others, a love for the community in which they live and a willingness to contribute. They show up.
Karen Manthey has said yes so often it seems woven into the rhythm of her life. Her service has taken her from hands-on projects to community leadership, but what matters most to her isn’t the size or visibility of the effort. Bringing dinner to a neighbor, writing a thank-you note or teaching someone a skill can matter as much as an initiative reaching thousands.
“When I serve beside someone or hear their story, they stop being a category or stranger to me,” she said. “They become a friend.”
Four years ago, Manthey said yes to becoming a volunteer communications director for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That decision introduced her to nonprofits, service organizations and community leaders she might never have known. She believes those connections become even more important as Meridian grows. “People move here because of how it feels; neighbors care, people show up, and there’s a real sense of community and friendship,” she said. “That doesn’t happen by accident.”
Michaela George learned the value of showing up while she was still a teenager. She joined the Meridian Mayor’s Youth Advisory Council (MYAC) as she entered high school, developing her voice alongside other young people who cared about their community. Just as important were the adults who believed their voices mattered. George credits mentors including Ken Corder and Shelly Houston with modeling leadership and helping build confidence.
That early yes opened doors to Girl Scouts, earning her Gold Award through work with the Boys & Girls Club, participation in the Miss America Organization and advocacy for numerous causes. Today, she carries that desire to support people into her career as a social worker and therapist—and she still volunteers with friends she made during those early experiences.
“You don’t have to have everything figured out to make a difference,” George said. “Sometimes you just need to be willing to show up and learn along the way.”
Dom Gelsomino learned the value of service early on as well, logging more than 600 volunteer hours at his church’s thrift store and food pantry during high school. Years later, he was asked to become an advisor to MYAC. He said yes, a decision he says established a foundation for more than a decade of service in Meridian.
The young volunteer became the adult mentoring young people himself. Through MYAC, Gelsomino shared his experience with another generation and continued his own civic service, first on Meridian’s Parks and Recreation Commission and now on the Planning and Zoning Commission. His service also has a decidedly lighter side: each Christmas, he becomes the Grinch for Meridian’s holiday parade.
“More than ever before, people are looking for that goodness and hope in one another,” Gelsomino said. He compares Meridian to its community gardens. Growth doesn’t mean something can be left alone; it requires nurturing, guidance, care and commitment to thrive.
For Pastor Mark Thornton of Capital Church, that commitment is rooted in his faith. Following Christ’s model of serving others, Thornton learned that even when he didn’t have significant financial resources to contribute, he had something valuable to give—his time and talents.
Thornton eventually asked himself what loving his community should look like in practice: “If I truly love my city, it should show through my actions, not just my words.”
That conviction helped lead to the first Adopt-a-Block projects and eventually I Heart Treasure Valley. Over the years, Thornton’s servant heart has been visible in efforts throughout the community, but his motivation remains deeply personal: loving his neighbors through action, stepping into their stories and meeting needs without expecting something in return.
Perhaps that is what I have come to appreciate most about the people who say yes: their influence rarely ends with the thing they volunteered to do.
A teenager says yes and discovers a voice she will carry into adulthood. A young volunteer becomes a mentor, passing what he has learned to someone just beginning. A pastor turns love of neighbor into action. A woman who keeps finding the energy to serve discovers that strangers have a way of becoming friends. Different generations, different motivations, different ways of serving—all connected by a willingness to show up for the community they call home.
Manthey tells her children that “every good thing in my life has come from saying ‘yes’ to service.”
I understand what she means. Looking back, I can trace much of my own journey to people who asked me to help and the moments when I said yes. I have also learned that service has no particular age, title or season of life. The seniors I once watched serve Meridian are still finding ways to make other people’s lives a little richer. This weekend, that someone happens to be me.