Hidden Valley Road - Inside the Mind of an American Family - Robert Kolker Page 0,5

child

died on March 2, 2001

JOHN CLARK GALVIN

born in Norfolk, Virginia, on December 2, 1949

married Nancy, two children

BRIAN WILLIAM GALVIN

born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on August 26, 1951

died on September 7, 1973

“MICHAEL”

ROBERT MICHAEL GALVIN

born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on June 6, 1953

married Adele (divorced), two children

married Becky

RICHARD CLARK GALVIN

born in West Point, New York, on November 15, 1954

married Kathy (divorced), one child

married Renée

JOSEPH BERNARD GALVIN

born in Novato, California, on August 22, 1956

died on December 7, 2009

MARK ANDREW GALVIN

born in Novato, California, on August 20, 1957

married Joanne (divorced)

married Lisa, three children

MATTHEW ALLEN GALVIN

born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on December 17, 1958

PETER EUGENE GALVIN

born in Denver, Colorado, on November 15, 1960

MARGARET ELIZABETH GALVIN JOHNSON

born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on February 25, 1962

married Chris (divorced)

married Wylie Johnson; daughters Ellie and Sally

“LINDSAY”

MARY CHRISTINE GALVIN RAUCH

born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, on October 5, 1965

married Rick Rauch; son Jack, daughter Kate

Part One

DON

MIMI

DONALD

JIM

JOHN

BRIAN

MICHAEL

RICHARD

JOE

MARK

MATT

PETER

MARGARET

MARY

CHAPTER 1

1951

Colorado Springs, Colorado

Every so often, in the middle of doing yet another thing she’d never imagined doing, Mimi Galvin would pause and take a breath and consider what, exactly, had brought her to that moment. Was it the careless, romantic tossing aside of her college education in favor of a wartime marriage? The pregnancies and the children, one after another, with no plan of stopping if Don had anything to say about it? The sudden move out west, to a place that was completely foreign to her? But of all the unusual moments, perhaps none compared to when Mimi—a refined daughter of Texas aristocracy, by way of New York City—clutched a live bird in one hand and a needle and thread in the other, preparing to sew the bird’s eyelids shut.

She had heard the hawk before she saw it. It was nighttime, and Don and the boys were asleep in their new home when there was an unfamiliar noise. They had been warned about coyotes and mountain lions, but this sound was different, the pitch high, the quality otherworldly. The next morning, Mimi went outside, and on the ground, not far from the cottonwood trees, she noticed a small scattering of feathers. Don suggested they bring the feathers to a new acquaintance of his, Bob Stabler, a zoologist who taught at Colorado College, a short walk from where they were living in the center of Colorado Springs.

Doc Stabler’s house was unlike any place they had seen in New York: a home that doubled as a repository for reptiles, mainly snakes, including one that was uncaged—a cottonmouth moccasin, coiled around the back of a wooden chair. Don and Mimi brought their three sons with them, ages six, four, and two. When one of the boys dashed in front of the snake, Mimi shrieked.

“What’s the matter?” Stabler said with a smile. “Afraid it’s going to bite your baby?”

The zoologist had no trouble identifying the feathers. He had been training hawks and falcons as a hobby for years. Don and Mimi knew nothing about falconry, and at first they feigned interest as Stabler went on about it: how, in medieval times, no one beneath the rank of an earl