One night while surfing the internet, I came upon an interesting book.  The story told of a time before the internet existed.  Joe spent a good part of his youth growing up in the wilderness of Western Oregon in the 1940’s and 50’s.   Today, we might consider Joe’s family ‘transient’.  However, Joe grows up having a rich story to tell.

It is a story drawing you in because you cannot help having questions.  I was curious how a boy who grew up in abandoned buildings, tents, a chicken coop and several years at the Mapleton Dump, can have such a rich history.  I presented Joe with a few questions.

Joe A. Moreland’s grandfather, Jesse Gibbs. Gibbs mostly worked in lumber mills but also surveyed timber for a logging operation. The Ku Klux Klan was supposedly attempting to control the lumber industry in those days (1920s) and Gibbs always carried a pistol for protection against KKK thugs. He was stabbed to death in a fight with his brother-in-law in 1925.
Photo Courtesy: Joe A. Moreland

First, what is Joe’s book, “A Place to Lay My Head,” about?  “A poignant reflection of my childhood days as my brothers and I faced the rigors of life on the fringes of society in the Coast Range of Western Oregon in the 1940s and 50s. It was a different time and different place where drinking water was carried from the nearest creek, warmth came from a wood stove, the toilet was out the back door and down a narrow path, light for evening chores and reading came from kerosene lamps and lanterns, and a battery powered radio was a luxury that we couldn’t always afford. With the spartan living conditions came freedoms forgotten in today’s culture…children had an entire forest for a playground; if the creek wasn’t deep enough for swimming, a dam solved the problem; bicycles without chain guards or fenders gave us unlimited mobility; and no one worried where we aimed our slingshots and BB guns. Oldsters will recall those care-free days…youngsters will be aghast that we survived our risky behavior…and our grandchildren will be envious of how we lived and played.”

You grew up in an alternative lifestyle that is still practiced here today. What would you tell the parents of those children?

Your worth as a parent is not measured by the value of material things that you can buy for your children.  The lessons you impart, the love you show, and the support you provide are the things your children will always remember.  Never feel guilty about not being able to match your neighbors’ gifts to their children, or allow feelings of inadequacy to rob your children of the rich experiences you can provide with a simple hug, a smile, or a word of encouragement.  The lessons they learn at your knee will last far longer than any video game, pair of expensive sneakers, or latest electronic gadget.  My father’s whittled toys were more important to me than anything that could have been purchased in town.  My mother’s baked bread was far tastier than a loaf of Wonder Bread from the store.  Shower your children with love.  It costs nothing and will last a lifetime.

Children today can spend hours gaming, social networking, watching Youtube, etc, wouldn’t you have missed that growing up today? 

Joe, Lester, Duane and Edward Moreland in 1950, standing in front of their family’s Model A in Creswell
Photo Courtesy: Joe A. Moreland

I firmly believe that today’s forms of entertainment are destructive diversions from the lessons we should learn as children.  Spending time communing with nature instead of wasting time with trivial distractions is absolutely essential for growing minds and bodies.  I would rather spend 30 minutes watching a spider build a web than repetitively trying to reach level 5 of a mindless war against alien invaders.  I admit that I enjoy bantering with family and friends on Facebook today, but my brothers and I had as much fun playing devious tricks on each other and pretending to be cowboys and Indians.  I spent one entire summer reading western novels by the likes of Max Brand, Zane Grey, and Louis L’Amour, and didn’t once regret not having a TV to watch.  When we wanted to entertain ourselves, we dove into a nearby creek, climbed a tree, or hiked up a mountainside.  Spending time alone in a secluded forest glen filled with buzzing bees, chirping birds, and beautiful wild flowers is as close to sensory overload as one could hope for. 

What is the memory you most enjoy from your youth?

I am blessed with more enjoyable memories than I could ever recount.  I suppose, if pressed, I would have to say that my most memorable childhood experience was spending two weeks at a summer camp in Eastern Oregon when I was 15.  I received a scholarship to attend a two-week paleontology expedition to dig fossils from the John Day Fossil Beds which was sponsored by the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry.  I and about 25 other students from schools throughout the state lived in bivouac tents in the desert, dug in fossil-rich sediments, and collected fossilized specimens of Miocene flora and fauna.  Every evening after dinner we sat around a campfire and sang every song we knew.  Whether the scientific stimulation of digging up ancient bones or the camaraderie of new-found, like-minded friends was the reason I enjoyed that time so much is beyond me…but it was just plain fun.

Living in the Coast range would mean weeks of rain and cold. How did you manage?

None of us gave much thought to the discomforts of rain or winter chill. It seemed natural to us to don wool shirts (purchased at an Army-Navy Surplus store in Eugene) and rain gear to complete our daily chores when the weather was nasty.  We knew a warm fire was burning in the wood heater when work was done.  If we were occasionally miserable, the warm days of summer easily made up for times of discomfort.   

Most of Moreland’s ancestors were common workers who worked in the logging industry. One limb of his family tree owned a steam donkey, which was used to drag logs to the loading dock.
Photo Courtesy: Joe A. Moreland

How does how you grew up most affect you today?

I am proud to say that I am independent and resourceful (traits bestowed upon me by my father).  I have rarely met a challenge too intimidating to tackle.  As a young adult, I learned how to rebuild car engines, feed my family using gardening and hunting skills, and advance in my chosen career as a hydrologist with the US Geological Survey.  I was selected to serve as the Chief of the Groundwater Research Project in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi and moved to a foreign land for four years without hesitation.  I was chosen to serve a one-year term on the Orange County Grand Jury and donated a year of my retirement to serve the public.  I have spent the last dozen years restoring our 100-year old historic home in Orange, California…learning by trial-and-error how to patch plaster, rebuild staircases, repair termite-damaged wood, and strip and refinish doors and window frames.  The lesson I learned in my childhood have served me well.   

Share something interesting about your childhood?

In 1954, my family took up residence at the Mapleton garbage dump…our home for four years.  I thoroughly enjoyed the time we lived there and have fond memories of scavenging through the dump for recyclables before the term was popular.  Even though there was a certain stigma attached to living there, we never had any regrets.  My parent’s ashes are now buried at the old dump site as testament to the unique and treasured life we enjoyed there.