I found Sutter Creek in 1989. Well, actually, my parents found it for me.

The gallery business I bought didn't come with a lease, which made a risky venture dependent on my relationship with the landlord. I called him - he was a little gruff - got directions to his house and drove the couple of blocks. I met Aldo Pinotti that hot afternoon as Leslie and my two toddlers waited next to a long white picket fence in the car. We talked on his porch. He wasn't overly encouraging, but he was willing to give me a shot, one year at a time.

Aldo was the first man I met in the little town that was to provide my family's livelihood and home. I have not met another that so embodied the spirit, spunk and passion for Sutter Creek. Perhaps it was imprinting, but Aldo was Sutter Creek to me.

Our relationship became more complicated. In addition to tenant-landlord, we were neighbors sharing the same street and creek, and I got involved in city government. With Aldo, one might assume that would be three strikes, but no. I think he issued me an intentional walk. In 19 years, he raised my rent only once and not by much. In the years of interaction between a former mayor with concerns and eight decades in the town and me, a new one who often couldn't do more than listen, friction was overridden by something I'll call a sensitive mutual respect.

Aldo's house is a landmark, surrounded by lawn, trees and garden. He showed off his spring-fed irrigation system and the history he meticulously collected at home and in his little museum housed in the Sutter Creek Library. He was a direct link to an age our town is trying to hold onto. He knew the people in the old photos or at least he knew people that did. He delivered bread on his bike from his dad's bakery on Main Street. He went to 10 cent movies and bought groceries downtown.

I'll miss Aldo on his mower and the boxes of vegetables that would turn up on our porch. I'll miss his drainage issues, admonishments and the history he regularly brought to the council. I'll miss the tough talker his wife called a big teddy bear. We lost the bridge builder, but not the bridge to Sutter Creek's past he so passionately labored to preserve.

A bridge Aldo wanted to lose borders his property on Badger Street. For years, he produced damning evidence to support its removal and replacement. The city couldn't and still can't afford to fund the project. I think of Aldo every time I cross the bridge and admire his proud property upstream. I could call it Aldo's Bridge, but I doubt he'd like that. He'd prefer to call it Aldo's Ex-Bridge.

Brent Parsons is a Sutter Creek resident and city council member.