…there was an old hermit who lived in the canyon over the hill from us. My Dad’s cousin lived next door to him and I went there frequently to play with my whatever cousin however many times removed. This was back in the days before Marin County was heavily developed and still an affordable place for working people to live.

Edward Scherman was born in San Francisco in the late 1800s. His family lost everything in the 1906 quake and moved to Larkspur. His father bought a lot in Madrone Canyon, which had many summer cottages and built a cabin on it. Edward lived his whole life there, grew his own food and raised chickens.

I went up there today for the first time since I was a boy, though I have driven by it many times. Mr. Scherman died more than ten years ago and the place has hardly been touched since. He left it to my Dad’s cousin’s nephew (I can’t keep track of how I’m related to these people), who cared for him at the end. I’ve lost contact with this person, so I know little of his plans for the property.

I don’t know why I’m posting this here. Walking up there today had a strong effect on me and I feel strangely sad and lonely tonight. The house, outbuildings and lot are just as they were left, with all the personal items and junk accumulated through a long hard life.

This is a strange relic in one of the most affluent areas in the USA. I have to go back there, if for no other reason than to awaken some more childhood memories. I’ll prolly bore you all further with this.

BTW, Mr. Scherman ate my pet rooster. The fucktard bird always crowed in the middle of the night, so my Dad decided it had to die. I think the whole ordeal left me scarred for life.

Bring a camera next time, please.

And sorry about your rooster.

Time sure does fly by, soon, someone will be looking nostalgically at our shacks, I wonder if they'll choke up a little.

Have you ever sat in a Cracker Barrel Restaurant and thought..." someday my portrait, class or wedding photo might end up on the wall of a restaurant of the future."

Sad, the crazy old lady next door to me died. Like most things, I had to read about it in the paper. I wonder if they'll board up her house, or tear it down. Another one I have to take pictures of.

Crazy old women are a blessing.

Crazy and all over the net.