At Camp Loma Mar [At Camp Loma Mar] | kids can swim [kids can swim] | all the way to China [all the way to China] | Ha ha ha [ha ha ha] | Ho ho ho [ho ho ho]

As a sixth grader at Burton Valley Elementary School in Lafayette California in the spring of 1982 I got to go to sixth grade camp. This seems like a thing that still happens for kids --at least certain kinds of kids from certain kinds of schools-- in their terminal year of elementary school. Where I am now, and so for my kids, it's CalWood west of Boulder. In my case, we went to Camp Loma Mar, in the coastal forest east of Pescadero, California.

This is not the kind of thing I normally remember. But we had an ancient ranger, like in his 90s at this point, whose name I can't remember, but who, among other things, did a sing-along containing the titular line, and this imprinted on me. Maybe it's also that sixth grade was a big year for me, immersed as I was with two of my greatest influences- - my school teacher James A. Barry, and my Little League coach Jack Gordon (USMC ret.). I could write thousands of words about each of these men and his impact on me, but I won't do so here. I'll just say it was a huge year in my life, and to the extent that I have discipline and confidence and strength and success, they deserve a lof of the credit.

In light of this deep personal connection to Camp Loma Mar, and in light of my love of discovering possible Garciavents that Corry hasn't already written 10,000 words about (for a palate cleanser, mind you), I was stoked to stumble across a possible new-to-The-List Grateful Dead gig at Camp Loma Mar, Sunday, May 14, 1967. Now, LIA, another act always hard to follow, had gotten wind of this:

In mid-May 1967, [Richard] Brautigan took part in a San Francisco State Writer's Conference, a three-day event at Camp Loma Mar in Pescadero, a small seaside town twenty miles north of Santa Cruz. Over fifty local writers had been invited to participate... After three days of sunshine, readings, workshops, and literary chit-chat, the conference ended with a 'Festival of Feeling' for which the Grateful Dead provided music (William Hjortsberg, Jubilee Hitchhiker: the Life & Times of Richard Brautigan, p.308)

He went on to say that "I don’t think the Dead played any such event, as there’s no other trace of this, but it’s fun to contemplate." (He took an even stronger stance on this being a false sighting in comments chez Corry.)

I have now found a new ex ante trace, in the San Francisco State University Daily Gater, dated May 12, 1967, available through the school library's digital repository.

"Writers convene to rock out with literary eccentrics, etc.," Daily Gater, May 12, 1967, p. 6.

The operative part reads "a rock dance with the Grateful Dead and the Lighthouse for the Blind is tentatively scheduled for Sunday."

Now, I note the word "tentatively", and I certainly don't consider this proof that the Dead played. But this, combined with Hjortsberg's reference to the event as one that happened, does increase my estimate of the probability that the gig did happen. And, of course, given my connection to the place, the possibility makes me feel like I might be able to swim ... all the way to China ... ha ha ha.