Charles Duane Foltz was born on May 27, 1939, in Klamath Falls, Oregon, and passed away at home in Willits, California, on April 12, 2026.

Though he enjoyed the solitude of his house in the forest, he always felt an unmistakable pull towards people. To his brothers and sisters, he was Duane; to many others, Charlie. In both names lived the same openness of spirit.

Charles grew up in Laytonville and graduated from Laytonville High School in 1957. Soon after, he joined the United States Air Force. Following basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, he was stationed at Hahn Air Base in western Germany. There, he gathered experiences that he would carry with him for the rest of his life, ones vividly remembered and lovingly retold.

He spoke of postwar communities, of his work in the Department of Finance & Accounting and at the base theater, of a romance with a festival queen, and his time as an extra in the German film Schwarzer Kies. His storytelling felt immersive and magnetic. Most were true, some gently embellished, but all were delivered with such conviction that fact and invention often merged into one reality.

Returning to the U.S. in 1961, he set down roots in San Mateo before returning to Laytonville, then Willits, where he spent decades working for Mendocino County as a road foreman. Roads suited him. They were practical, necessary, and above all, connective. He took pride in them. Even in retirement, he kept a watchful eye over road crews, as though their work still fell under his supervision.

Among the many projects he oversaw, Branscomb Road held particular significance, as it was tied to his childhood in the Branscomb area. He often recalled early years hunting in the woods, fishing in the streams, and the modest, sometimes difficult beginnings that shaped his character.

What defined him, above all, was the way he lived among others: with generosity, humor, and just a pinch of stubborn rebellion. “Make a friend every day,” he would say, and we believed it possible, because he did.

Charles carried a deep sense of responsibility for friends and family. He helped build many homes, stood beside others in their hardest hours, and took on the solemn duty of executing several wills and final wishes. He made himself useful in the truest sense, guided by his own experiences navigating loss and hardship.

Within the community, he acted with the same sense of altruism. He gifted Christmas cookies to the drive-through workers who knew his daily order, cut wood and plowed driveways for neighbors on snow days, and handed out full-size Hershey bars on Halloween. Many gestures were small enough to overlook, yet too sincere to forget. He remained busy, curious, and ever engaged with our changing world, often seeming much younger than he was.

And always, there were his children. Here, his voice softened. He loved and protected them with a steadiness expressed through action. He drove them to practices, never missed a game, and actively encouraged education, creativity, and confidence. As an older parent, he obsessed about preparing them for the future. He was proud, but more than that, he was present. It is no surprise that many others, too, found in him something of a father figure.

He was preceded in death by his first wife, Sally; his brother, Dick; and his sister, Milly. He is survived by his former second wife Leslee and their two children, Charlie and Elizabeth. He is also survived by his sister Joanne and her husband Tim.

He will be remembered by a wide circle of extended family, and by those who, through affection rather than blood, came to belong to him. Among them are Joanne and Tim’s children, Dan (wife Lorraine) and Sandy (husband John), and Sandy’s children, Sarah and Leah (husband Kurt), and their families; his nephew Rick (wife Kafey; son Austin); niece Kary (children Kayla and Michael), and their families; nieces Debbie and Carla; nephew Colby and niece Sarah. He also held a special place in the lives of his godchildren, Lindsay and Travis, and was cherished by members of the Hurt family, including Rodney and Bobby.

And if one were to ask what remains, after everything, it is this: he did not pass through life unnoticed. He met it directly, spoke to it, laughed with it, and, above all, shared it.

He was dearly loved, and he’ll be forever missed.