Finding My Father's House

This Sunday morning Kathy and I set out on our summer road-trip to Glacier and Yellowstone parks. Originally, Kathy had proposed that we visit the Grand Canyon, Bryce, Zion and New Mexico in the summer, but I thought that would be too hot. Instead, we went to Arizona and New Mexico over Spring break, where we had unexpected snow at the Grand Canyon. We then planned on visiting the cooler northern climes to escape the summer heat. Now, it looks like we're about to be surprised once again. The local weather said that it was 107F in Billings, Montana today. 

Our first stop was going to be Lake Tahoe to visit some old friends from Shiloh. The Tamarack forest fire and a flu outbreak changed our plans at the last minute. 

Instead of Lake Tahoe, our first stop was the Pacific Motel on Route 99 in Gridley, California. Gridley is actually nowhere near the Pacific Ocean, but it is the home of the Butte County Fair. But that's not why we came here.

What's in Gridley, you ask? On January 13, 1929 my father was born in this house. Since Gridley is about an eight hour drive from our home, we thought we'd make this our first stop. Kathy just traded in her Rav4 and we bought a new Subaru Forester. The problem with the Rav4 is that I didn't fit with my long legs. I could just manage in the passenger seat, but couldn't drive it at all.

There's a lot more leg room in the Subaru and I drove the whole way. I was pretty nervous at first, but it is a really nice car to drive. I think that Kathy is still a little nervous, because when I drive, the car tends to nag a bit whenever I drift just a little bit out of my lane. We stopped at iHop for breakfast, and at Split Pea Anderson's for lunch (the one in Santa Nella, not the one in Buellton. It's always a treat to eat there. 

In the Jack Reacher book I'm reading on my Kindle, Jack finds himself in Leconia New Hampshire, where his father was born. He wanted to see the house his father was born in. Much of the plot revolves around Jack going from agency to agency looking through the records. He got here on a Sunday afternoon, so none of the city offices were open. All I had was an old picture. We drove up and down the streets of Gridley, but never found my Dad's house. I spent some time looking through his records, and called my brother Gary, but was never able to find the address. 

After an hour or so, we decided to head back to the motel and get to bed early. Tomorrow, we're going to stay in Jacksonville, Oregon, and visit Applegate Christian Center. Along the way, we're going to drive through Lassen National Park.

The pictures will be better tomorrow. Promise.