Teacher Who Lost His Family Returns to Paradise Alone

PARADISE, California — The Camp Fire robbed Jim Knaver of what was dearest to him: the woman he loved for 43 years, their home, two cats and two dogs.

He sums up the tragedy in four haunting words: “I lost my family.”

Even in a place where so many people lost so much, Knaver suffered losses greater than most in the November 2018 fire that ravaged the town of Paradise.

But after prayer and soul searching, the 65-year-old Knaver, a newly retired elementary school teacher, in August bought a handsome, three-bedroom split-level in a part of town relatively unscathed.

“I feel like there’s a reason why I’m here right now,” he says, speaking from his living room one day after closing. “And a part of that is helping this community rebound and recover.”

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Knaver taught fifth and sixth graders in neighboring Chico for 31 years. People suggested the widower escape from it all and move someplace else. But he knows his town took a gut punch — and he wants to give back.

“It’s not going to be easy for anybody, but I have a lot of really deep, deep connections with friends in this area and colleagues and kids who I’ve taught and families who I’ve known and musicians I have played in bands with and/or just sat down and played Neil Young songs around a campfire with, that kind of thing,” he says.

“I just don’t see myself living anywhere else,” he adds. “Toni would never forgive me if I walked away.”

Anna “Toni” Hastings was his common-law wife. She was from Ireland. He’s from Indiana. She was tiny. He’s tall and sturdy. They met in San Francisco as 20-somethings. He sang tenor and played guitar back then, notably with a band called Trixx. She was moonlighting as a waitress with a day job in a vintage clothing store. The pair moved in together about a month later, and never bothered with a marriage license. “We’re ’60s people — we never needed the paper,” he says.

‘Forever’ home gone

In Paradise, their green, ranch-style home with tall silver maple trees and canyon views was to be their “forever” home.

Today, Knaver wears a T-shirt, shorts and a Chicago Bulls cap over wispy gray hair. His dark-rimmed eyes betray sleepless nights. At times he weeps.

Hastings, he says, “was a genuinely unselfish, caring human being that cared about everyone and every little creature on the Earth.”

“And I was pretty lucky to know her all that time,” he says, “and everyone else that knew her feels the same way.”

Amid searing pain and grief, Knaver takes the long view, observing: “I’ve had a pretty blessed life, so I feel like it’s time for me to also extend myself to people who maybe aren’t as fortunate as I am, especially under these circumstances.