This article appears in Issue 25 of Alta Journal. Decades later, when my wife and I wanted our own two kids to drink from that Aquarian source, we dropped them at Camp Winnarainbow, near Greenfield, to learn tie-dye and juggling from Wavy Gravy, 1960s political clown. Summers, Mom and Dad drove us to Greenfield in the VW, let my sister and me skinny-dip with hippie kids and walk moonlit forest to cabins where kerosene lanterns lit the windows and live bluegrass harmonized with the night crickets. The first of these, Mendocino’s role as paradise in my private California cosmos, dates to the early 1970s, when families from my childhood block in Berkeley pooled money to buy 5,600 acres near the Mendocino town of Ukiah in order to start a commune that they called Greenfield Ranch. News of the murders of Nicholas Whipple and Ruby Sky Montelongo, earlier this year in the remote Round Valley of Mendocino County, caught my attention because of two irreconcilable truths.
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