His truck rumbles along the sun dappled gravel road that he has travelled a thousand times before. His arm rests on a box filled with file folders that holds the hopes and dreams of all the farmers in the county as well as his plan to not only help them realize that dream but to make it sustainable well into the future.
As the gravel crunches and pops beneath his tires, his eyes scan the fields looking at all the work and conservation practices that have been installed as well as looking for those whose blood, sweat, and tears had gone into the work.
James Neal stands on the edge of his field, sweat pouring down his brow, his body arched, staples hanging precariously out of his pursed lips, fighting against his foe as he struggles against a stubborn fence the broke loose when a tree limb fell in the last storm.
Helping hand
He strains to pull the fence line taught so he can repair the line. As the fence wraps around and digs into a post, he is about to give up when he hears the hollow thud of a truck door close behind him.
He turns around to see a familiar face walking towards him.
“Hello Jim, looks like you could use an extra hand” said the man.
James Neal was never so happy to see Gabe Rozsa, from the soil conservation service as he was at that moment. As Gabe walked up and smiled, his eyes twinkled like those of Santa Claus.
He laid his file folder on the ground and grabbed hold of the fence line and used every ounce of his stout Hungarian frame to tighten the fence as Jim drove staples into the post securing the fence.
Work completed, Gabe Rozsa bent down and picked up his file folder, leaned against the fence post and offered James Neal a tootsie roll. As the two men stood there, Gabe scanned the fields and with his easy going, open and caring personality, he spoke to the farmer before him and offered his services asking how the conservation practices were working and if any modifications were needed.
And so passed another day on the job for the soil conservationist.
In 1986, when Gabe Rozsa decided to retire after 38 years of service to the citizens of the region, it came as quite a blow to everyone who had come to depend on his expertise and wisdom.
Impact
Larry Vance, Chief of the Division of Soil and Water Conservation for the State of Ohio felt urged to write Gabe to offer him well wishes in his future, but to also let him know how big of an impact he had made of the years.
Vance wrote, “When the Division office received word of your retirement intentions, we discussed the implications of this action. We wondered if an environmental impact assessment would be needed by SCS to consider this action. You have left your mark on the environment of Jefferson County. There are many soil and water conservation structures and practices that serve as landmarks to attest to your work. What kind of mitigation program will be put in place to fill the void your retirement creates?”
Vance’s letter continued, “We tried to calculate the value you have been to the SWCD supervisors and to the community. We wanted to total up the tons of soil you helped save, the miles, acres, etc. of practices you helped install, and the lives of people you influenced. When the computer began to shake, groan and smoke, we shut it down knowing your contributions were not calculable.”
In closing Vance wrote: “As a soil conservation technician:
- You offered much.
- You found the best in others.
- You left things better than the condition you found them in.
- You have contributed to the lives of generations yet unborn.
- For these accomplishments, I join your many friend to say you have succeeded.”
Legacy
It has been 37 years since Gabe Rozsa retired, and this August marks the 10-year anniversary since he left this earth for the home in Heaven he built with bricks of good. However, in all of that time, the impact and effect that Gabe Rozsa had on the land and many generations of people can still be seen and felt.
When you travel the roads of the area, you still see the conservation practices he laid out and helped install. You see the livestock enjoying a cool drink from a spring that he helped develop and the children running through the corn planted in conservation strips along the rolling terrain of the hill.
Yet most importantly you see the well thought out approach and wisdom of the farmer in how they practice their craft that was instilled into them by a man who with patience and encouragement taught them.
It was once stated that old soldiers never die — they just fade away. Gabe Rozsa is proof that old conservationist never die, as they are rooted into our soil.
