It was Saturday. You can read a pretty good description — with a few inconsequential errors — here.
It was such a Berkeley event. On the campus, the Campanile bells ringing, a third of those present in wheelchairs. The first attendee to get up and speak (aside from Carla’s mother) was a slightly deranged man who had to be escorted away. Bill Trampleasure was there: he’s a long-time Berkeley letter carrier and general fixture. He met Carla on his varied routes. I spoke a little in my capacity as Carla’s editor (and was slightly misquoted by the reporter there, but no matter).
Bright spot in the sadness: Becky and I spent time with Dave Kershner, a former coworker and friend who introduced us to Carla. We hadn’t seen him for a decade.
