His mother’s ashes vanished from his S.F. porch. Then the story took an incredible turn

Barbara Offenhartz lived 89 years on Earth as a wandering soul; he took his family around the world on “budget adventures” from tent camping in African national parks to living for a year in Japan, just because they could.

His last adventure ended in San Francisco; Last month, a box of her cremated remains was taken from her son’s porch on Potrero Hill to a homeless shelter under an underpass; these reasons remain unclear even to their children.

The saga began last month, shortly after the death of Barbara Offenhartz, who lived outside Boston. Her son, John Offenhartz, a Potrero Hill resident who handled Barbara’s remains with the help of an Eastern funeral home, was waiting for the box containing his mother’s ashes to arrive at his door as promised. But on or about the day the ashes were due, he received a call from the funeral home.

Offenhartz, 61, recalled a funeral home worker telling him over the phone, “Hey, we got a call from a homeless woman saying she found your mom’s remains.” The employee provided the finder’s phone number.

Offenhartz, who has lived in San Francisco for nearly half his life, said he and other neighbors in the close-knit hilltop community have a habit of bringing in other people’s packages if a neighbor sees one on the porch.

“This is an informal network,” he said. “People here know better than to leave things out, and we keep an eye on each other’s things.”

As he dialed the woman’s number, Offenhartz suspected the package had been delivered and then stolen by a porch pirate. He said he was instructed to ring the post office doorbell but likely left the package unattended on his doorstep.

When the woman, Heather McCray, answered the phone, Offenhartz said she seemed more upset than he was. He told her that he found the package (a black plastic box) and when he saw what was written on it, he immediately knew what was inside.

It clearly read: “This contains the cremated remains of Barbara H. Offenhartz.” Date of death and St. Along with the number of St. Michael’s Crematorium. Representatives from the funeral home declined to comment.

MCcray, originally from Los Angeles, said in an interview that he found the box on an electrical outlet outside the Division Circle Navigation Center, near the corner of South Van Ness Boulevard and 13th Street. When he saw that the name was Barbara, his desire to find out who the ashes belonged to increased even more.

MCcray said that he had his late mother cremated in 2017, but he never came to the appointment for her burial, and said, “My mother’s name was Barbara.” “I didn’t even call to cancel. I knew I didn’t bury my mother, and this reminded me of what I didn’t do.”

McCray and Offenhartz made a plan to meet in front of the homeless shelter. When he arrived shortly after his summons, he couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of transportation: a motorcycle.

“Make sure you tie him up tight!” Mccray called out to Offenhartz before he gave him $100, threw the box into his backpack and walked away.

“According to the stories, the whole thing took maybe half an hour from start to finish,” Offenhartz said. “But it was a hurricane.”

When Offenhartz arrived home, he felt a sense of relief at how flawed the ordeal had been, with a mixture of shock and, oddly enough, amusement.

Offenhartz’s father passed away in late 2024. He said his mother’s death occurred shortly after the anniversary of his father’s death, following a sudden decline following short-term breathing problems.

His parents had been together for 65 years; Both were chemists who met at Swarthmore College and hitchhiked through Europe during their honeymoon. After both earning doctoral degrees in physical chemistry at the University of Pennsylvania, they began postdoctoral fellowships in Cambridge, England.

After this, they traveled with their younger daughter, Kathleen, to Nakhodka, Russia, via Warsaw, Poland and the Trans-Siberian Railway, and then headed to Japan, where they began fellowships. There, during a typhoon, Offenhartz was born.

Barbara’s box currently sits on the dresser in the Offenhartzes’ living room, surrounded by old photographs of the family’s many colorful experiences over the years.

He kept thinking about how his mother would react. He had a feeling she would like it.

“He was cool-headed. It took a lot to upset him, and he lived for adventure.” he said. “I can’t help but think he’s going to say, ‘What a great story.'”

This article was first published at: His mother’s ashes disappeared from the SF porch. Then the story took an incredible turn.