Most nights we would gather, drink cheap beer and prepare for the rest the night adventure. One of the guys who was an infrequent participant in our group was Greg Burdo. I remember him as a school mate, a wirey energetic guy with a great laugh and attitude. At some point Greg’s number was drawn, he was drafted and disappeared from our circle and joined many other young men fighting in SE Asia.
He returned forever changed. When Greg returned he moved to the woods. A basic shelter of plastic sheets, scrap plywood and canvas and for over 40 years that is where he has remained. Urban development has occurred around him but his little spot remains.
He was befriended by a local blogger and newspaper reporter who has published various pieces about Greg. I have followed the articles. Greg has had some help over the years, but not much. You can tell the reporter likes and respects the man.