Apr. 14
Where to begin? We pulled into Garberville on Thursday and went first to the hospital where Lorraine had her daughter 42 years ago. It is incredibly small by NJ standards, and is now named after the Dr. who did the delivery. A couple of very nice nurses helped us as best they could, but none of the records from back then were on the premises. They would have all been transferred to microfiche or something long ago, and stored off site somewhere, probably at the county seat. They offered to let Lorraine see the room, but she couldn’t remember which one it was. They stopped doing deliveries there many years ago.
One of the nurses turned us on to a good place to stay, as there are no Wal-Marts at all in this area. A private RV park just outside of town provided all the amenities, and for $29 per night; so we were glad not to have to go back to the state park that had none. It even has wireless that I am calling “the intermittent.” We are still here as I write this on Saturday night, but when I go to post it, it will be hit or miss as to whether there will be any service. Still, some is better than none.
Our next inquiry was at the post office. Lorraine knew that the owner of the land she lived on back then had had a post office box in this town. No luck there, but the postal worker told us that we ought to go see a guy in town by the name of “Bear” Gratzel, because he was an old-timer, and lived up that way. He owned a sporting goods store in town. So we walked over and introduced ourselves, and he turned out to be just the guy we needed. He had come to live on the same property (Lorraine doesn’t like me to say “commune”) in 1974, and stayed there for a number of years. Lorraine had left suddenly with her daughter in 1972 to escape an abusive boyfriend (the father of her child.) So her path and Bear’s had never crossed. Many of the people that Lorraine knew were still there when Bear arrived however, and he was able to give her a great deal of information on what had become of everyone. Incredibly, he had a picture of Lorraine’s old boyfriend on the wall of his office, as he had known him quite well! Bear may have also prevented us getting shot as trespassers, since he informed us that the land had long ago been sold by Lorraine’s friend, and was now “Private Property – Keep Off.”
They had a great conversation, and about half-way into it, he inquired where Lorraine had gone to live the rest of her life. When she said “New Jersey,” he mentioned that he had been brought up in NJ. I asked him where? He said “Teaneck” (my home town.) I asked if he had graduated from Teaneck High School, and what year? “1966” he said, (my graduation year.) It turns out that he and I were high school classmates, even though we didn’t know each other! (It was a class of over 600 students, and I was definitely not the kind of kid that anyone would remember. He mentioned that he had been in a high school “fraternity” called “The Ashaks.” I remember them as being kind of intimidating jock types, and I kept a respectful distance.) But what are the odds that Lorraine has this connection with this guy, and then her husband and him turn out to be high school classmates?
So anyway, Bear had some family in town and was not free on Fri. and Sat. but said that if we could hang around till Sunday, he might have time to take us up to his property, which adjoins the land that the old commune was on. So we are hunkered down in Garberville, waiting on the Bear. I think I hear the espresso pot boiling.

Apr. 16
Well… Bear didn’t return our calls, and so on Sunday after church, we decided to push on, which meant turning east for the first time, toward home. The property that Lorraine had lived on not only was under new ownership; it also had no proper roads, and we felt that the RV could not navigate it without risk. So we got so close, but not quite there. After we had driven some distance, at about 4:30 PM, Bear called Lorraine back. But it was to say that his family business had taken longer than expected. By that time, it would have been too late to go on Sunday, and the next day was a workday for him. So I guess it was not to be. Maybe sometimes it is better to remember places as they were than to sully the memories by seeing them the way they are now.
We are now heading east across California, and stopped overnight last night at a national park campground near a town called Shasta. We are the only campers here, so we had our pick of sites, which are all, as they say, “primitive.” There is no electric, and a posted sign says that the water has not yet been turned on for the season. So we get a place to park and nothing else. But it was extremely quiet, and a bargain at the “old dude” half-price of $6 per night. (This being California, I’m a little surprised that they don’t actually use that terminology.)
Because we are alone here, Logan gets to go out of the vehicle without a leash on, which is very unusual on the trip. He is enjoying going and coming as he pleases, but we have to keep an eye on him as we are deep in the heart of Sasquatch country. Logan wouldn’t even be a proper meal, only a snack; and that would leave Bigfoot still hungry enough to come after Lorraine and I. But Logan is having a gay old time peeing and pooing wherever he wants in the woods. Now if I did that, Lorraine would not be pleased. Sometimes I think she holds me to a higher standard than she does that dog.