Maybe I”m the wrong person to allow at such events. Once bidding passes over the, oh, $10 mark, I”m pretty much out at an auction. But the Lake County Wine Auction is one awe inspiring event.
On Saturday, Cole Creek Equestrian Center and the Wine Alliance hosted their 15th fundraising event. Having been a resident of the county for six week or so it was, of course, my first wine auction, and I hardly knew what to expect—other than a glass or two of fermented grape.
I had visited the site in advance, just to scope things out. The dressy affair took place in—and there”s no way to put this gently—a working horse arena. For the sake of women in heels, they packed down the soil, chat and other “natural” material to make it walkable. Volunteers also draped the place with cloth and other fineries. Apart from the red dust footprints left on the floor mats of my car, it would be difficult to prove this was an outdoor event.
For me, the evening was defined by three things. First, there was a fear of waving, nodding, brushing a wisp of hair from my eyes or any other move that might attract the attention of keen-eyed auctioneers. Lots quickly rushed past the $500 mark, soaring toward the four-digits traditionally associated with a journalist”s annual salary. Second, the constant patter of callers Shaun Hornby and Matt Hughes, exhorting the crowd to spend more for a jeroboam of Champagne or an abalone feast for 12 at the Moore Family Winery, kept the space alive all evening.
The last thing was the most significant. Several hundred guests and volunteers, along with a few dozen wineries and other donors, committed themselves, their time and some hard-earned cash to better Lake County”s future.
By the time I slipped out to catch up on the waning moments of a college football Saturday, the overall till must have cleared $70,000–and it was still climbing. Last year the event pumped $90,000 back into local organizations. The year before, it was $96,000. The money was directed to high school arts programs, which might wither without the funding, food pantries, scholarships, cancer support groups, shelters and other county programs. Meanwhile the auctioneers, local schools and individuals contributed time to make it all happen.
And they do this every year.
Oh, it is a fun event. Wine flows, food reaches the table, people hobnob and take advantage of mic time. Unfortunately, a refusal to drink and drive severely limited my enjoyment of the wines on offer. I passed the time snapping selfies among the famous bottles of Lake County and bidding people up at the silent auction tables, privately hoping someone would take the bait so I wouldn”t have to cough up the money.
Certainly opportunities to give back to the community pop up all year long. The wine auction prices out those of us without the means to pledge a thousand or so on a tour of some vineyard or a hot air balloon ride (that would be so cool) over the same, yet many of us lesser sorts do contribute in our own way.
The point is, a core of good people in Lake County want to give back. They want not only to keep this area alive, but also to build upon what we have and create a vibrant future. They are not bickering over personal grow rights or complaining about the way things used to be; they are not panhandling or moaning about panhandlers; they are not knocking the dent a proposition tacking a few cents onto our tax bill to preserve the lake”s quality might make in their pocketbooks; they are instead targeting causes that might bring a positive, long term return.
That is a community.
Oh, there will always be negative sorts. And we all tend to point fingers. The fault obviously lies with the crotchety old folks. The blame clearly falls on those careless kids. On the other hand, those conniving businesses or cunning government entities might be the cause of all our problems. Yet all categories were present at the wine auction. And all were willing to give.
I only hope that next year they include a few trinkets for us lowly sorts to bid on—perhaps a collection of vintage Bazooka Joe comics, a rare Pete Falcone rookie baseball card (rare because, let”s face it, few people want a Pete Falcone rookie card) or a desirable first issue can of Red Dog beer.
If so, I might be in the game. But even if I bring nothing home from any future auction, the event leaves me with a sense of pride.
