Simply Joyful... Salvador

August flowers fill Salvador’s garden with color. But Salvador would tell you that August blooms are different from those of early spring. Exactly how they are different, I’m not sure. What I do know is that he notices. He notices the changing colors, the new blossoms, the subtle shifts in the landscape. He tends to his garden every day, through every season.
And now and then, if you are fortunate, Salvador will send you an iPhone photograph of a flower that has caught his eye—a velvety red rose, a delicate pink hibiscus, something beautiful he simply wants to share. And when I receive one of those photographs, something happens. For a moment, my day becomes more joyful.

For Salvador, home has always been found in the soil, the soft air, the blue sky, and the living things that grow beneath his hands. Over the years, I have watched him nurture his love of the natural world by creating beautiful gardens.

But perhaps Salvador has been doing more than growing gardens all these years.

Salvador’s roots reach back to a distant land in Michoacán, Mexico. He was the sixth child and the youngest. His mother died when he was only two years old. His father died when he was fourteen. A boy who had already lost so much was also living in poverty. His older sisters raised him. Eventually, they encouraged him to take an enormous risk: to cross the border with them in search of something they could only hope would be a better life.  He was nineteen. He had little formal education. But he carried something more powerful than an education or certainty about tomorrow. He carried a strong will to do better, humble courage, and the willingness to step into the unknown. He eventually settled in Santa Cruz, California.
And that is where our story began.

Max Walden, owner of the Cooper House—an historic 1894 courthouse building in downtown Santa Cruz that had been renovated into stores and restaurants—hired Salvador to caretake the property. That is where I met him. It was around 1974. I was working in a shop owned by my sister, and everyone at Cooper House seemed to LOVE Salvador. He taught himself to speak English. He was always ready for a conversation, always warm and friendly. And on a good day, he might offer you a sweet mango or two.

Our friendship blossomed and we married. Together we raised our three children—Chavo, Sol and Jesi—and our beloved Rottweiler, Mia. And, by the way, one of the reasons I fell in love with Salvador in the first place was because he could dance! We took disco dancing lessons together—yes, those glorious days of the ’70s—and even performed in local fashion shows. Salvador, dressed in his bell bottoms and boogie boots, was quite a sight.

Eventually, after leaving the Cooper House, Salvador turned his passion for gardening into a successful landscaping business. For decades, he prospered through dedication, hard work, and an extraordinary ability to care for gardens—and to delight the people who enjoyed them.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Salvador’s other passion: running. Over the years, he has become something of a local legend. I think he has participated in at least thirty Wharf-to-Wharf 10K races, along with countless other competitions. You can still see him almost daily running along the Pacific shores, on land and sand.

Today, as abuelo, Salvador is caretaking his grandchildren. And now we share a different kind of garden. We watch them through the seasons—growing and changing before our eyes. We see their little personalities emerge, their dreams begin to take shape, and their lives unfold. And we agree that the love and support we give them are among our simply more joyful times together.

When I look at Salvador’s life, I see a man who could have allowed his early losses to break him. Instead, he planted himself in unfamiliar soil. He grew. He thrived and he contributed. He exemplifies one of life’s most valuable lessons: Joy is something we nurture. But even more importantly—joy is something we give away. A photograph of a flower. A sweet mango. A dance. A helping hand. A garden. A grandchild held close.  

This is Salvador.