As the summer of 1968 approached, the nation was in turmoil. Young people from all over the country were converging on tribal gathering spaces for the new generation that was disaffected. Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley was one of those havens, and civic leaders in Berkeley were less than enthralled at the prospect of thousands of youngsters crowding the streets and parks. My father saw that there would be a huge need for constructive activities. He negotiated with the school district for the use of the abandoned McKinley (continuation) school that was on Dwight Way just below Telegraph, and with others in the community, created a sort of “free university” where people could sign up to lead classes in whatever they wanted to teach. I remember taking a class in Karate at the age of ten. Some business owners wanted to make Berkeley as inhospitable as possible for the transients, but he took a different approach. The Berkeley Free Clinic was the other project he worked on, along with my mother, to respond to this need.

He helped raise my three sisters and me, and we all inherited a strong sense of community involvement and social justice. He took us to marches against the Viet Nam war, and for civil rights. He also instilled in us a love of nature and wild spaces. He always thought nature was best when it was left to its own devices.

He was born in 1916, so if he were alive, he would be 99 years old. He has been gone a long time, but is remembered well.