Vacation is fabulous but there’s a price for everything. In my case, it was 1,500 emails in my basket upon my return this morning after two weeks’ absence.
The email system administrator advised me mid-day Sunday that I was out of space and threatened to reject incoming messages. Yeah, like that happened!
I’m slowly wading through the mail and I am working on several updates for the blog for later today.
Many thanks to the folks who let me know in my absence about the tragic death of Erik Nunn, Contra Costa supervisor candidate, in an airplane crash near Las Vegas. I learned of the horrific accident after I picked up a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle at the KOA campground store at Lake Trinity. (Unfortunately or fortunately, I had no cell service in the campground and couldn’t access my phone messages. And my computer password at the Times had expired and I couldn’t read my e-mails, either.)
Erik’s photo was on the Chronicle’s front page and I initially thought it was a campaign story. I had to read it several times and even then, it didn’t sink in until I returned home and read the accounts of the memorial services.
Erik and I had our differences on the campaign trail — I had criticized him for a campaign mailer he sent out — but I am truly saddened by his death, the loss of his wife and his two friends. I cannot even imagine the inconceivable grief their seven orphaned children must be feeling.
I encourage everyone to make a contribution to the accounts set up at the Bank of the West for the benefit of the children of Erik and Tanya Nunn and Craig and Michele Wilson. Anyone wishing to make a donation may do so at any Bank of the West branch: Nunn Children Trust Fund, Bank of the West Account No. 105156251, or Wilson Children Trust Fund, Bank of the West Account No. 105156269.
READ MORE FOR DETAILS ON CAMPING IN THE FIRE ZONE.
In the meantime, while I wait for return phone calls, I spent the past two weeks camping in Shasta and Trinity counties, the heart of the state’s wildfire zone. We were never too close to any one of the hundreds of fires but the air quality was dreadful.
We love this area but we didn’t get to see much of the region’s beauty. It was covered with a smoky haze that even obscured the Trinity Alps’ most jagged peaks. On several days we spent in our boat on Lake Shasta, we were glad for our hand-held GPS because the smoke stripped the massive lake of its visible landmarks and we worried we would become lost! We also skipped plans to hike around Lake Lewiston after health officials warned people to avoid outdoor activities.
We didn’t lack for entertainment, though. We swam in the warm lake waters, ate too much and even performed in the campground’s Fourth of July talent show. (Performed what, you ask? My husband is a guitar player and we sang a couple of songs.)
I loved reading all the local newspapers, too. We picked up papers every day to read the latest fire news. We particularly enjoyed the police logs. You see, I grew up in a small town (Oakridge, Ore.) where the police logs contained a lot more detail than we have room to include in urban papers and I miss them.
My favorite was about a women who told her husband to get out, so he did. But he took the couple’s six-month-old baby and an older child with him. The mother was fine with her husband taking the children on a vacation but she wanted to know how he planned to breastfeed the baby.