Have You Seen This Statue?

When I moved to the Monterey Peninsula more than a decade ago, my wife couldn’t come with me. She had committed to finishing some obligations with her employer, so I traveled here by myself and crashed at my in-laws’ house for two months before my wife arrived.
I didn’t know anybody, didn't know of any local hangouts, and had lots of free time on weekends and after work. I figured I may as well get some training in.
Being unfamiliar with the Peninsula, I had no idea where to do my long training runs, and used a map to survey potentially scenic areas. Scanning such well-known tourist locations like the Pebble Beach Resort, 17-Mile Drive, and Carmel Beach, I knew there were a lot of fantastic options.
Then my eyes fell on a lesser-known, but seemingly more inviting name: Dennis the Menace Park.
The site was too intriguing to pass up. I drove my car to the 5-acre playground situated next to a paddleboat lake just one block from the ocean, and the park became my home base for several weeks of 2- or 3-hour runs.
Cartoonist Hank Ketcham was a longtime Monterey resident, and the park he designed (and named after his most famous character) is the kind of place where adults wish they could be kids again. Large climbing structures and steep slides are challenging and exciting enough for kids of any age. A bouncy, swinging, 100’ rope bridge traverses two hillsides on either side of the main entrance. A full-sized Southern Pacific steam engine parked in the sand is almost always swarmed with kids climbing over, under, and inside of it.
There’s even a snack shack that sells popcorn and snow cones if the mood strikes you.
Each week I filled my water bottle from the lion’s head drinking fountain, and headed towards the ocean and Monterey’s coastal recreation trail. Since I was a newcomer, whenever I passed by locations like Fisherman’s Wharf, Cannery Row, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium, I took them all in with the wide-eyed delight of a tourist.
The Peninsula’s coastline is quite convoluted, and it’s easy to get disoriented when heading inland from the shore. Consequently, I got lost on many of these runs. But whenever I asked somebody how to find Dennis the Menace, I was easily redirected to my starting point.
Those first long runs were exactly what I needed to get my bearings in my new home. And the more familiar with the area I became, the more I knew that the Monterey Peninsula was a place I would surely fall in love with.
As we became settled in the area, my wife and I frequented the park many times together. Each of our children has climbed on the locomotive and drank from the lion’s mouth. Our parents have visited the park as grandparents, and our daughter had her 3rd birthday party there. We’ve also bought a lot of snow-cones from the snack shack.
It’s one of those places that you hope can stay the same way forever, because there really isn’t any way to improve upon it. Which makes it very sad to hear when the park suffers damage like it did last week.
The lead news story in Monterey during the past week wasn’t the upcoming elections or the Iraq War or the Southern California wildfires. It was the theft of our city's beloved Dennis the Menace statue away from the park. It disappeared in the dark of night, and no clue was left as to its whereabouts.
I know, I know - as far as crime goes, this is completely juvenile, small-town stuff. But to the many people with a soft spot for the park, the offense feels like a collective punch in the stomach.
Local authorities are taking it almost as seriously as a missing persons case. They’ve put out APBs, interviewed potential witnesses, addressed the perpetrators on television newscasts, and – most morbidly of all – assigned scuba teams to drag portions of Monterey Bay in attempts to locate the statue.
(They’re also patrolling eBay and similar sites, but it doesn’t hurt to restate the obvious here: if you see a 125-lb Dennis statue up for auction somewhere, please contact the police!)
Everybody is hopeful that the theft is some sort of pre-Halloween prank, and that the statue will eventually turn up relatively unscathed. But so far there’s no indication that any of us will ever see it again. In the meantime, a lot of local residents with a lot of fond memories of the park will feel a little twinge of sorrow the next time they go there and see the empty pedestal where the statue once stood.
It will remind them that nothing can stay the same way forever. And no matter how much we want our beautiful places to remain unblemished, we can’t completely shield them from the periodic residue of human indecency.
But it won’t prevent my family or anyone else from using the park in the future. It will only increase our appreciation of places like this, and our desire to pass along such good memories to the children and loved ones around us.
(I’m still hoping it’s returned safely, though.)

