I’m a retired nuclear machinist (20 years) and retired business owner, tv/video production (20 years). I co-authored the nonfiction book entitled Twice Delivered, the true story of one woman’s enduring journey to find the brother she never knew, 2500 miles and a lifetime away. I grew up in the SF Bay Area and married my junior high school seeetheart in 1973. We raised two children there before relocating to Virginia to retire in the log home we had built in a country setting. I spend my time with family, playing my guitar, working our property, and documenting my experiences and opinions here.
Moxy is the word that comes to mind when I think of Aunt Paige. One of Ohmer’s four sisters, she was quite colorful, a hard-worker, with a heart of gold, not to mention being the mother of 21 children.
Like Ohmer, she too displayed extraordinary fetes of strength on occasion. I’ve heard stories of her toting two one-hundred pound sacks of beets, one under each arm from the storage shack to the house. Of course, the average person was stronger 100 years ago, after all, life was a great deal more physical then compared to today. Spending much of her time working on the farm like so many other mountain women, she was without a doubt, a Jackson.
Naming so many children might have been a challenge for some, but not Aunt Paige. I can’t help but think of the former Heavyweight Boxing Champion, George Foreman, who named all his sons George when I think of having to name so many children. Aunt Paige, however was a bit more original than George. Inspired by the tomato patch she had been working in prior to giving birth to one of her many children, she named him Cluster. Yes she did!
An exceptional marksman, Aunt Paige would drag a deer out of the woods after shooting it and dress it out all by herself. When she shot a trophy bear, she had it mounted and displayed it proudly. Playing cards was one of her favorite pastimes and she always kept a roll of money pinned to her undergarments in case a game of poker found her. Then it was Katie bar the door! Her love for music was such that she couldn’t resist cutting a rug whenever the opportunity presented itself and she could dance for hours.
A youthful 98 year-old, Aunt Paige showed no signs of slowing down. Ohmer once went to pay her a visit and found her up a tree, trimming branches. After talking her down and into the house, a squirrel outside her kitchen window caught her attention. Immediately dashing into the other room, she fetched her rifle. Upon her return, she aimed the barrel through that kitchen window, zeroed in on the squirrel and shot it dead before scuffling outside to bring it back into the house where she dressed it out and had it for supper that evening.
When she was no longer able to care for herself, she was placed in a convalescent home, against her wishes I might add, where she could continue being somewhat active. One day, in fact, while playing catch with one of the other resident’s, a very frisky Aunt Paige threw the ball so hard that it knocked him out of his chair. The nurse, knowing all too well, Aunt Paige’s temper, scolded her, saying, “Okay Paige, you know you ain’t supposed to throw the ball that hard.” Smiling back at the nurse and knowing she just got away with something, she agreed to behave from then on.
The first time she received visitors, she became enthusiastically excited. Thinking her son, Bradley had come to take her home. She said, “you gonna take me home?” Before Bradley and his wife could respond, scampering away, she added, “I’ll be ready in just a minute.” She returned with a pillowcase filled with her belongings slung over her shoulder, exclaiming, “I’m ready to go now!” The nurse was then summoned to explain to her that she couldn’t leave without the doctor’s orders. Not easily discouraged, Aunt Paige said, “I ain’t seen no doctor” before demanding that he hurry and get there. Unfortunately, the doctor never showed up and she wasn’t allowed to leave.
Not long before her centennial birthday, Aunt Paige was walking down one of the hallways of the convalescent home when she collapsed and fell to the floor, never recovering.
I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s always worth mentioning again; as far as I’m concerned because you just can’t make this stuff up. I mean, I wouldn’t have believed it myself it if it didn’t actually happened to me. While I have met some of Aunt Paige’s children, I never had the pleasure of knowing or meeting her. I didn’t even know of her until about 15 years ago. One of the strange coincidences in my life was the fact that my first granddaughter, Madison Paige, was born 25 years ago, long before I knew anything about my biological family. Making this story even more incredible was the name Madison because that’s where I later learned I was actually born, in lieu of what my birth certificate reflects. If it sounds too good to be true, it must be Twice Delivered.
One if my younger sisters, Darlene, was forced to retire when she began to experience memory lapses at work about ten years ago as best I can remember. It was about two years ago when our paths crossed at one of her grandchildren’s ballgames and she no longer recognized me. Heartbroken, I did however, give her a hug after a very brief conversation before going our separate ways. That’s the last time I saw her. Even though ours was a very brief relationship, I will always cherish my memories of her. Bed-ridden now, she no longer recognizes anyone. The hardest part to accept is that before she began her decline, her husband forbade her to see Jeanette, any of her children, and me and refuses to give us an explanation why.
Dinah, Cheryl, and Susan are the only siblings that he allows to visit her. Dinah recently managed to sneak a picture of her without his knowledge before sharing it with Jeanette who in turn, shared it with me. Her hair is now completely white and she remains as beautiful as ever, however no longer the cantankerous person she had always been. Much to his credit, however, her husband seems to be taking good care of her at home with the help of hospice I’m told, and I’m very thankful for that even though he wouldn’t give me the time of day.
There is so much more from my story, I truly don’t know where to go from here at the moment. I do promise to document it here as I think of it. Rest assured however that I will continue commenting here from time to time. So, until then, God bless you all and be well.
If there were a biography about you, what would the title be?
As a matter of fact, there was a biography entitled “Twice Delivered – One Woman’s Enduring Journey To Find The Brother She Never Knew Thousands Of Miles And A Lifetime Away,” co-authored by my sister and myself. While enjoying limited success, we were fortunate enough to attend a “Pitch-fest” in Hollywood where a select number of authors were invited to pitch their books to Hollywood studios. Much to our surprise, it was our story that was the “talk of the town,” if you will, during the 2-day event.
Robert Kosberg, producer and writer of films such as 12 Monkeys and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Commando, and quite possibly better known throughout Hollywood as The King of Pitch, got wind of our story and requested a personal interview with us. With great enthusiasm and without knowing the title of our book, he told us that he had already imagined promoting a film entitled, “Looking For Teddy,” based on the fact that my sister had personalized license plates made with that message after learning my name.
Tolmach Productions (Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse) expressed an interest, but we couldn’t agree on the terms and ultimately told me that they would keep it in their system for future possibilities.
Unhappy with the original publication, I have totally rewritten it and given it the title, “The Secret of Berry Mountain.” Written several years after our book was published, it was meant to not only be a better read, but update those who read the original book. Not unlike a mystery novel, it reveals a dark secret that was hardly mentioned in the original publication and honestly, one that we have never discussed outside our family. I even redesigned the cover to give it a mysterious feel, described by others as “spooky.”
One incident that keeps coming to mind was the time my sister and I were standing in line for a copy of my birth certificate while researching for our book. We struck a conversation with two ladies in front of us and and like so many other times before, we ultimately began telling them our story. They were very inquisitive and as we reached the end, nearly everyone in the room was listening with wonderment.
We’ve found that our remarkable story is always an ear-bender wherever we go. As they say, you can’t make this stuff up! My sister and I never grow tired of telling our story to those who care to listen, even participating in a few speaking engagements. Regardless of who we speak to, the one comment we most often hear is, “it sounds like a movie!”
Sugarloaf and her third husband, Josh, visited Ohmer and Granny in the holler. As soon as they arrived, before introductions were made, Josh saw Ohmer mistreating his mule in the field. Acting the big man and having no idea what he was about to get himself into, he yelled out, “how would you like it if I gave you some of that treatment?”
Never one to back down from a challenge, Ohmer shouted back, “well, if you think you’re man enough, bring yourself on down here!” Not a big man by any means and certainly no match for the likes of Ohmer, Josh rushed down and grabbed him by the collar and before he knew what was going on, Ohmer landed a swift right cross and easily put Josh down for the count.
Witnessing the commotion from not far away, Aunt Butterrole’s son, Kevin, sprinted toward the house, yelling out, “Granny! Grenddeddy just killed Josh! Grenddeddy just killed Josh!”
“I don’t know what he thinks comin’ ’round here tryin’ to tell me my business,” Ohmer told Josh’s friend, “but you best pick him up and git him outta here NOW!” He did exactly as Ohmer demanded and I don’t believe Josh ever returned.
In his 80s, Ohmer took ill. I’m not sure, but I believe he had been diagnosed with cancer before Cluster, one of Aunt Paige’s sons had been visiting him. Rubbing the pain deep in his hip, Ohmer said, “Gawdamit! There ain’t no bone in there,” believing that it had actually been eaten away.
Attempting to ease the mood, Cluster replied, “ya got it all wrong! I know exactly what’s ailin’ ya.”
Hoping that Cluster might be onto something, Ohmer asked, “by Gawd, whatta ya think it is?”
Playing it like a poker hand, Cluster said with a stern poker face, “Ohmer, what you got is the gout, plain and simple!”
Those were fighting words as far as Ohmer was concerned. Setting the record straight, Ohmer assured him, “I ain’t got no damn gout! I know damn well I got cancer!”
Cluster got a kick out of Ohmer’s reaction and said with a grin from ear to ear, “No, indeedy!” At that time, Ohmer’s cousin, WM, pulled up in his car and Ohmer turned to go up the steps, toward the house. Giving WM a wink, Cluster told him to holler at Uncle Ohmer before he goes into the house. “Tell him ya know exactly what’s wrong with him is the gout!”
With a snicker, WM yelled to Ohmer, “hey Ohmer!” Stopping in his tracks, Ohmer turned to see what WM wanted. Continuing in a serious tone, WM said, “Ohmer, I wanna talk to ya.”
“What is it, M?” Ohmer asked.
“Ohmer,” WM continued, “come on down here.” Making his way back down the steps, he unwittingly stepped right into the middle of their fun. WM asked him how he was feeling today.
Rubbing his hip, Ohmer admitted, “damned if my hip ain’t killin’ me!”
Hardly able to contain himself, WM said, “well, I know exactly what’s wrong.”
WM was playing him like a fiddle. Ohmer asked, “well, by gawd, ya do, M?”
Now easing up the steps, closer to Ohmer, WM finally let loose. “Yeah, Ohmer, ya got the gout,” he said. Both Cluster and WM commenced to knee-slapping laughter as Ohmer spewed back, “gawd dam! I ain’t got no gout! There ain’t a lazy bone in my body” before turning around in total disgust and hobbling back into the house, rubbing his hip all the way.
When Ohmer expressed an interest to go to church, it was probably a sign that he felt the end was near. The next Sunday, he accompanied Granny and Suzie to the service. While everyone in the room had their heads bowed and eyes closed, the minister asked if there was anyone who wanted to be saved. “Raise your hand” he said, “to indicate yes.”
After the end of the sermon, the minister asked Ohmer if he understood what he had done that morning by raising his hand. Following a few more questions with Granny, Suzie, and a few dear friends at his side, the preacher was convinced that Ohmer had accepted Jesus as his savior. Ohmer continued going to church every Sunday afterwards.
Jeanette got the surprise of her life the next time she visited Granny and Ohmer. Calling her name, he asked Jeanette to come sit on his lap. She didn’t quite know what to say. Her body language indicated that she was staying put. Granny reached over to her and placed her hand on her shoulder before saying, “Jeanette, go ahead and do it.” She always trusted Granny, and reluctantly approached him where she stood at his side.
Reaching out, he took her hand and gently brought her closer, onto his lap. She was noticeably uncomfortable there and he proceeded to put his arm around her and said, “Jeanette, Honey, you don’t think Grenddeddy loves you” pausing to give her a moment to respond.
Slowly nodding, she cautiously said, “Yes, thats right.”
Looking directly into her eyes, he told her that he did in fact love her. “I love you just as much as I love my own babies, but I have never been able to show you.” With tears running down his cheek, he and Granny both began to cry. He was finally reaching out to Jeanette after all those years of neglect and abuse. Christ was now in his heart and Jeanette gave him her heart that day.
His health continued to decline and Suzie had to carry him from her car, into the church every Sunday morning. One Sunday night in February, Granny called Suzie to tell her that her dad was near his end and asked if she would come over and stay the night. She did and he died the following morning at the age of 74. When the people from the funeral home attempted to pick his body up, Aunt Suzie stopped them and said, “I’ll do it. It’s the least I can do for Daddy.” The once colasssal man was now less than 100 pounds. Lovingly, Aunt Suzie picked up her father’s body and placed it on the gurney before it was taken away.
At the funeral parlor, Charles stood next to his Uncle Ohmer’s casket while noticing that his hands were folded together on his stomach, his index finger pointed straight up into the air. Several others had tried to make it lay flat without any luck. Obviously upset about it, Charles thought he was pointing at him. Reaching inside the casket, Charles passed his hand lightly over his uncle’s finger revealing that it was now laying down as he thought it should. Smiling, Charles said, “you’re welcome, Uncle Ohmer.
Growing up an only child in the San Francisco Bay Area, I always wanted siblings but couldn’t have them. Many of my lonely hours were spent alone, at the movie theater as a young child. I especially loved western movies like the ones that starred John Wayne, Randolph Scott, Glenn Ford, and Audie Murphy. Always believing that I was born too late, I fancied a life in a log home, not unlike the ones I saw in those movies. Although, not a western, I fell in love with the cabin adjacent to a trout pond in the film “Man of a Thousand Faces,” the biographical film about Lon Chaney. I longed for a country lifestyle, being able to walk out the front door of the cabin and fish for my morning trout.
That dream continued even after I married my junior high school sweetheart and it became her dream as well. Not long after our two children were born, we purchased two country properties in Northern California before my parents died, taking with them a well-kept family secret to the grave.
Shortly after my fifty-fifth birthday, I received a life-altering phone call from a private investigator in Virginia. He proceeded to inform me that he had been hired by a woman who had spent much of her life looking for her half-brother. As it turned out, my parents who raised me were not my natural parents and I actually was born in Virginia to a mountain family in a log cabin. My biological mother gave me away through the window of a car to complete strangers so the evidence of her infidelity would be erased before her army husband returned from a tour-of-duty in Europe. Not long after that, my new parents and I were transferred to the San Francisco Bay Area, courtesy of Uncle Sam.
Still in Virginia, my older sister, learned about me from a kid in school no less, when she was just 12 years old. She had spent most of her life looking for me without even knowing my name. Many years later, she hired a private investigator who found me within one year, shortly after I became 55. A DNA test revealed that we were not half siblings, but full siblings, much to our surprise.
The following summer, while visiting my sister, I not only met our half-siblings and their children, I also was surprised to learn that I was actually born in a log cabin on the outer edge of the blue ridge mountains. As it turned out, my wife and I spent all of our following summer vacations in Virginia getting to know my family. After several years we decided to purchase a property there on which we would build our dream home after retiring. After more than one year of looking, we purchased five wooded acres with a spring that runs right through the middle for our log home.
We have since retired and built our dream (log) home within a few miles of the log cabin I was born in. Now at the young age of 72, it’s been five years since we left California and we love our lives here at Turtle Rock, named for a large rock resembling a turtle shell that hangs out over the spring.
Never owning any of the properties they lived on, Granny and Ohmer rarely stayed in one place for very long. Housefires forced them to move at least twice during their lives after their homes burned to the ground. Oddly enough, both occurrences took place when Ohmer had been gone for days at a time on logging trips. One time, Granny had just purchased a few hundred chickens that perished in one of those fires. She always suspected that Ohmer returned in the middle of the night and while everyone in the house was sleeping, set it ablaze.
Sugarloaf, even though just a young girl had been seen by cousin, John, placing arms-full of straw under the house earlier in the day. Granny awoke in the middle of the night to the crashing sounds of the ceiling falling down around her. She managed to escape unharmed as Sugarloaf got everyone else safely out of the house.
As a side note, I’d like to add that Ohmer was one of the men who worked on the construction of the now famous Blue Ridge Parkway that offers breathtaking views for miles and miles offering a full day of beautiful vistas. Pam and I have driven it during the autumnand neither of us ever recall driving a more beautiful route in our lives!
At the young age of only 12 years old, Sugarloaf struck out on her own. Living with friends and relatives who were happy to lend her a helping hand, she rarely returned for more than a short visit. After the autumn leaves had fallen, you could see from the mountain, down to the road in Wolftown. Aunt Suzie and the other siblings would sit on the porch during the cool evenings, watching the occasional car lights in the distance, wondering when their sister, Sugarloaf, was coming back.
Aunt Paige, Ohmer’s sister, and her son, Charles, paid a visit to Ohmer and Granny one day. Approaching the house on foot, Charles suddenly darted off ahead, leaving his mom and dad behind to continue on their own up the dirt trail that traversed through the holler. Nearing the house, he rapidly panned the property looking for his Uncle Ohmer. Running up and around the corner of the house, he discovered him sitting on the porch, intoxicated and eating from a big jar of homemade sauerkraut. Like the scoop on the end of a crane, his large fingers dipped into the jar digging the tart and shredded strands from within. Leaning back in his chair, he hoisted a handful up to his face, tilted his head back and dropped the dangling glob into his wide-open mouth. Bent over and out of breath, Charles shattered the tranquility as he shouted out in excitement, “how you doing Uncle Ohmer?”
Startled and nearly falling backward out of his chair, Ohmer choked a bit on his kraut. With his gruff voice, he said, “Gawd damn! I’m glad to see ya, Charles, but I think I’m gonna die.” Looking healthy enough to his young nephew who was baffled by his uncle’s response, he asked him why he would say such a thing, Continuing to suck his fingers in ecstasy, Ohmer shook his bewildered head and replied, “Charles, there’s a damn chicken walking ’round here in the yard this morning. He looked up at me and said ‘how ya feelin?”
Pausing for a moment, he began to say, “Awe Uncle Ohmer…” when Aunt Paige came around the corner they all went into the house where Granny welcomed them all by fixing them something to eat.
There must be something in the DNA as I always plant cabbage in the garden for homemade sauerkraut, a delectable treat that I enjoy often here at Turtle Rock. There is yet another food that Sugarloaf and I have in common. Fried chicken, although we rarely have that now, as we try to eat a healthy diet. I’ve always been a “sticks and twigs” kind of guy and while we eat a lot of lean meats, I truly do enjoy a big, thick rare steak from the grill paired with a dry, red wine. Oh yes! A dry, baked potato is also served with that, usually following a tossed salad of mixed greens dressed with Pam’s homemade Italian dressing with her homemade sourdough bread which she makes about every two weeks. Life is good here at Turtle Rock!
As time passed, the game of cat and mouse seemed to reach a stalemate between Agent Birkhead and Ohmer. Apparently, Agent Birkhead got the idea that someone was tipping Ohmer off. Agent Birkhead decided to no longer share his plans with the local sheriff, he also upped the ante with a reward for any information leading to his arrest.
Being particularly cautious, Ohmer sent his girls, Suzie, Butteroll, and Lillie into town to get the sugar for his still despite Granny’s strong objections. After arriving at Utz’s Store, the large bags of sugar were placed on the horse-drawn wagon. Catching the eye of Agent Birkhead, he decided to see what they were up to, from a distance, of course. It was later when Ohmer was busy in the middle of working his still, Agent Birkhead came down on him, catching him red-handed this time.
Ohmer was arrested, tried, and convicted before being sentenced to one year in jail. However, understanding Ohmer’s home situation, exercising mercy, the judge allowed him to go home on weekends. Before leaving, Ohmer arranged for his nephew, John Beahm, to stay with Granny during his absence. After nearly one year in jail, he was released and placed on three years probation as assigned by the Honorable John Paul of Harrisonburg. Because his incarceration caused such a hardship on the family, the local officers made a pact to never arrest Ohmer again, choosing instead to bust up his stills whenever they were discovered so he could still provide for his impoverished family.
The mail was always delivered on horseback up in those hills. One day, the mail courier, mounted his horse and began his journey back into the mountains on familiar trails as he had done each and every day before. This time, however, was different. He had been carrying a considerable amount of cash lately and wasn’t too shy about boasting about it. Nearing the end of the day, his horse returned to town without him, the mail, or the cash. It’s said that Ohmer was the last person to see him, but charges were never filed against him.
Years later, Ohmer started to get a loose tongue and oftentimes quite emotional after he had been drinking. He’d cuss Agent Birkhead and blow his own horn about a large sum of money that he had buried under a sassafras tree. The story varied somewhat each time he told it, but when he told his son, Bullpuncher, that he had buried it under a headstone in the holler, his curiosity got the best of him. Bullpuncher couldn’t wait to find that money and as soon as the opportunity presented itself, he went up on the hill above the house in the holler to the small family cemetery and proceeded to overturn every headstone frantically looking for the stashed loot. Much to his dismay, however, his desperate search uncovered nothing but disappointment.
What I found most interesting about the story of the rivalry between Ohmer and Birkhead was the fact that years later, as Agent Birkhead was nearing the end of his life, Sugarloaf ended up sitting with him and his wife until he died. During that time, she discovered the Birkhead stash in the basement, which consisted of several newspaper articles and photographs of his battle and victory over Ohmer. Among those things, she also found some of Ohmer’s moonshine.
One day, Ohmer and a friend had been drinking. Too drunk to walk back home, his friend gave him a ride, dropping him off at the mailbox about one mile from the house in the holler. Stumbling all along the way, he managed to get most of the way home before tripping and falling one final time. Unable to get back up, he remained there, next to the spring while hollering back up to the house. Hearing his cries for help, Granny asked Jeanette to go down and help him get back to the house so he didn’t freeze to death.
Not liking it one bit, she did as her Granny asked of her. Talking to herself the entire way, she didn’t like having to help the man who had treated her so cruel, not to mention the way he had mistreated Granny as well. As far as Jeanette was concerned, Ohmer didn’t have a single redeemable bone in his body and here she was, going down to the spring in freezing cold temperatures to drag him home. Then it struck her!
Drag him, she would. After all, he was much too big for her to carry. She was now finally going to get her chance to even the score. Standing over her grenddeddy, Jeanette turned him over, face down and grabbed his arm and dragged him all the way back to the house, through every obstacle on the way including water, ice, and every rock and stick she could. The following morning, she was rather proud of herself that he was in a considerable amount of pain. Tending to his wounds, Ohmer said to Granny, “Gre-ate day, I’d like to git my hands on that som’bitch that beat me up so bad last night.” A newly-found sense of gratification overcame Jeanette as she gloated over her Grenddeddy’s misery as he believed it was another man who beat him up.
Unlike his relationship with Jeanette, Ohmer was always affectionate with Sugarloaf’s two youngest girls, Cheryl and Susan. Even when he was drinking, he would tell Cheryl, “Baby-girl, I’ll never darken your path and the greatest thing on earth is the unknown.” Cheryl became so intrigued with his skilled ability to roll his own cigarettes, she quickly learned to do it herself. She was tickled that he allowed her to her pull the tobacco from the Prince Albert can, fill the paper and make his cigarettes for him.
She’d ask him, “Grenddeddy, would you like a cigarette?” as she made a gesture like she was rolling one. He always played along then she asked if he wanted her to light it for him.
“Yeah, you can light it” he always said. That may have been the early beginnings of her life-long habit. I’m proud to say, however, that she quit in the last couple years and has remained tobacco-free ever since.
While watching the news of the raid on a church in Minnesota recently by a group of crazed and insensitive citizens, I couldn’t help but recall the time that Ohmer had hidden Evelyn’s Bible from her and forbade her from going to church again. Undeterred, she went to church against his orders the following Sunday. Self righteously, he proceeded to ride his horse into that very church while she was worshipping with all the other members. Riding directly up to the pulpit, the horse strikingly reared back on its hind legs. Raising his arm into the air, Ohmer demanded she immediately return home. As I imagine the scene with 20 years of television production behind me, I can almost see lightning flashing and thunder sounding as if it were a spectacular Hollywood production, but that’s the way my mind works. What a scene that must have been!
While Evelyn may not have been shocked by his actions that day, I imagine that all of her fellow worshippers were rather shocked by it all and you can be sure that they had no idea that he was quite the different person at home than the one they thought they knew him to be.
At home, one of his milder, but rather crude behaviors was spitting into a pot of soup or stew that Evelyn was preparing for dinner while no one was watching. He also found it amusing to spit on the side of the hot wood burning stove and watch it sizzle as it slid down the side.
Dinner time was a time for the family to gather around the table together, but not for conversation. Dinah told me that if any of the girls spoke while seated at the dinner table, he would flick his middle finger, thumping their forehead to make sure they understood that talking while eating dinner would not be tolerated. No doubt that as big and strong as he was, a thump such as that would leave quite an impression on anyone, particularly if you were a child.
The truth is that Ohmer always treated Dinah and Darlene in a loving way, much differently than the way he treated Jeanette. Calling her names like “little whore” was just the beginning. Jeanette was so little back then, she didn’t even know the meaning of such words. She later believed that Ohmer knew that Gordon, her step-father, had raped her and that’s why he called her names like that. Ohmer didn’t even likely know that Gordon wasn’t even her biological father.
Even though thumping heads at the dinner table was pretty cruel, it didn’t compare to the time when he and Jeanette were in the barn and he asked her to do something for him. When she said no, he grabbed a leather strap, swung it around and sliced her abdomen open. Dashing away, she ran to the house and showed “Granny,” that’s what they all called Evelyn then. Granny told her to go to the barn and get a handful of cobwebs and bring it back to her. Upon returning with the cobwebs, Granny applied it to Jeanette’s open wound, immediately stopping the bleeding.
One might think that she would have learned her lesson about sassing Ohmer, but yet at another time, she refused to do as he wanted. He grabbed a chunk of firewood and hit her in the head with it, knocking her unconscious just a few feet from Granny in the kitchen, resulting in permanent deafness in that ear. He told Granny that he didn’t reckon she’d ever talk back like that to him again.
Ohmer couldn’t help but drink his own moonshine and get drunk doing so. When he was drinking, Granny always made sure that the girls, Jeanette, Dinah, and Darlene, slept with their clothes on and shoes right next to the bed. They never knew when he would become enraged and terrorize them in the middle of the night, often chasing them out of the house, sometimes in the snow, seeking safety in the barn.
During an intoxicated rage one day, Ohmer ordered Granny to sit in a particular chair in the living room until he returned. After walking out the door, Jeanette pleaded with her to go hide. She felt sure that he was going to return to hurt her. She must have felt it too as she did exactly what Jeanette had asked of her. Jeanette immediately hid under the table so she could watch him upon his return from the barn. Standing over that chair, he pulled out a crow bar from his overalls and proceeded to destroy that chair while yelling as he thought she was still sitting there.
On the cold mornings, Ohmer hung the girls’ socks on the wood stove to warm them before putting them on Dinah and Darlene’s little feet, something he never did for Jeanette. She always watched from behind a door as he lovingly played with her two younger sisters while they prepared for school.
Because Ohmer bartered services in exchange for rent, he performed all the maintenance on the property surrounding the cabin. Therefore, it’s safe to say that he probably knew the area as well as anyone and better than most. I’m sure that’s one reason he was so successful making moonshine and evading the authorities. Another reason would be that he was providing his ‘shine to the local authorities. His special recipe was why his ‘shine was so popular. It’s said that his was the best for miles around, quite possibly in the entire state as he was even selling to VIPs in DC. With such connections, you can see why no one was trying to bust him.
One night, Ohmer and nephew Roy were making a new batch. Ohmer’s goat wandered over to the bucket filled with the dingy whiskey backing that had run off from the still. After lapping it down, the goat then backed away from the now empty bucket. Standing upright, wavering a bit, the goat shivered from head to tail. His eyes bulged and spun so wildly that neither Ohmer nor Roy would have been surprised to see smoke blowing from its ears. Focusing on a tree a few yards away, the goat put his head down and charged it as fast as he could. Unfortunately, the goat was no match for the tree and as soon as he collided with it, he stopped cold. Weak-kneed, he took a few steps back and fell to the ground like he’d been shot dead. Roy jumped up in a flash to aid the goat, but not before Ohmer could grab him and pull him back, saying “give him some time. He’ll be okay.” Roy sat back down and he and his uncle continued drinking throughout the rest of the night. The goat eventually recovered, but who knows whose headache was worse the following morning.
Ohmer must have crossed someone along the way because the revenuers who could never find his stills, brought their best man, Revenuer Birkhead, in to bust him. He openly started snooping around and eventually introduced himself to Ohmer. I suppose that’s when they both engaged in a game of cat and mouse.
During harvest time, while Ohmer and cousin James Berry had been working in the cornfield, Revenuer Birkhead paid him a visit and noticed a whiskey bottle near Ohmer’s mule. Birkhead ordered Ohmer to go over and get it for him so he could inspect it. Ohmer sneered and said, “If you want it, you’ll have to get it yourself.” Birkhead’s keen senses told him that something wasn’t right. Besides, it was Ohmer’s still that he really wanted. A single bottle of ‘shine was hardly worth his effort. Outnumbered this time, he thought it was wiser to back off and bid them both a good day before leaving.
As soon as Ohmer was sure that Birkhead was out of hearing distance, he began to laugh and explained to James that there wasn’t anything but water in that bottle. He’d outsmarted Birkhead but the revenuer didn’t give Ohmer the satisfaction of walking behind the mule only to be taken out by one swift kick. He then revealed to James that the real stash was hidden under the corn stalk that his mule was straddling.
The Appalachian Mountains of Virginia, in Madison County’s Wolftown is where Ohmer Jackson called home. With little education and at the young age of 14, he struck out on his own while many American young men were going off to fight in World War I. Leaving his parents, four sisters, and two brothers behind, he found work in a nearby logging camp in Wallace Gap.
Becoming one of Madison County’s more vibrant characters, he was known by some as “Mountain Man,” and by a select few, he was quietly referred to as the Sunuva Bitch. Nonetheless, he was as proud as he was colossal, standing every bit of six feet tall and tipping the scales at two-hundred and fifty pounds or more in his prime. Strong as a mule, his hands were one and a half times the size of most other men’s.
As Madison’s checker champion, it’s said that he was one very hard-working farmer and logger who could spin a tale better than most. So large a figure was he, that it’s quite possible he may have been the inspiration for many a loggers’ lore, but I assure you that the stories I’m about to tell you are the culmination of my own personal research and corroborating testimonials from eyewitnesses I, myself have interviewed.
His skills were plenty and when he wasn’t farming, you could find him mending a country fence or breaking horses. He was the one man who could break a horse that seemed otherwise unbreakable and people would come from miles away for that one service. His biggest fault, however, was that he was a binge drinker who sometimes would oversample his own product, some of the best ‘shine for miles around.
His voice was gruff and accent so strong that one year, the census taker recorded his name as Ohma. His was a commanding presence and surpassed only by his legendary feats of strength. Among the stories that spread throughout the county was the time he lifted the front end of a stranded, loaded-down logging truck, turning it around on a narrow, impassable mountain road by getting down on his back under the front end and placing his feet directly under the bumper, before pushing it up like one might do on a leg press machine today.
When the county sponsored a strong-man contest, he didn’t think much of the challenge as he was accustomed to lifting hogs all by himself, but perhaps for a lark, he did enter the competition. After successfully completing all the tasks, the final challenge was at hand. It didn’t seem likely that anyone could lift a fifty-gallon barrel filled with water and carry it across the finish line, but Ohmer stepped right up for the challenge. By now, most of the contestants had been eliminated. As he walked up to the barrel, the crowd of observers and the other contestants watched quietly. Looming over that barrel, Ohmer took a few deep breaths and with a final shiver from head to toe like a wet dog, head to tail, he proceeded to wrap his big arms around it. Lifting with his legs, he scurried as fast as his legs would carry him across he the finish line. The only competitor to do so, the Mountain Man was then declared the strongest man in the County of Madison.
Ohmer and his nephew, Charles Berry were always playing gags on one another. Each one, an attempt to outdo the other. One of Charles’ favorites, that he often bragged about, was the time he threw an old rubber hose at Ohmer and shouted, “Say, Ohmer, look at this here snake!”
So scared, he turned white, Ohmer jumped and yelled back at him, “Gawl dammit Charles, you caused me to mess all over myself!”
It was while working in a logging camp that Ohmer befriended a man named John Will. One weekend he invited Ohmer to go home with him. That’s when John Will’s younger sister, Evelyn, caught his eye and he immediately became lovestruck.
Evelyn was a Madison County native with light colored hair and a slender, petite frame. Well educated, she was a most generous and loving person who never said a discouraging word. With a great ear for music, she could play the piano, guitar, accordion, and harmonica which she often played in church. A God-loving woman, she was always singing hymns not only in church, but at home while doing her chores.
They say that opposites attract and nothing could be truer than with Ohmer and Evelyn. Following a brief courtship, Ohmer proposed and against her parents wishes, she became Ohmer’s bride. Ohmer never had a penny to his name, but he did work hard to provide for her.
Of course, Evelyn did more than her share of work around the house. Always the first to rise, she first built a fire in the cook stove and while waiting for it to get hot, she read her Bible every morning. She always cooked breakfast for everyone, did the laundry in an old galvanized washtub on the porch and tended the large garden that provided all their vegetables yearround, canning what was left so it would spoil.
Life was hard back then. Without running water and electricity, kerosine lamps were used for light. They never owned any of the houses they lived in. Ohmer always bartered with the property owner to pay the rent. The kids were responsible for bringing in water from the nearby spring and milking the cows every morning before going to school.
When writing The Legend of Berry Mountain, I did so to share some of the events in my lifetime that are detailed in Twice Delivered, the book I wrote with my sister, and ultimately update readers here. While our book is no longer in publication, I have seen used copies being sold on the internet.
As I’ve expressed not only to the publisher, but to a number of family members and close friends, the truth is, I was disappointed in the copy edit that the publisher said they had done.
Now that I’ve finished the brief retelling of the story here, I’ve decided to provide more detailed stories about some of its more colorful characters. Watch for the forthcoming stories about Ohmer Jackson, husband, mountain man, logger, moonshiner, father, and grandfather right here.
While living in California, we had looked at hundreds of log home floor plans in many sizes and styles by numerous companies. It was overwhelming at times and deciding on just one seemed impossible. What we did ultimately decide, however, was to not allow house cleaning to define our golden years.
Unaware of the many different kinds of logs there were, our taste changed over the years and the look we settled on was nothing like the original plans we fell in love with when we started. There were round logs, D-shaped logs, and square logs. The way they fit together differed from company to company as well. Little did we know then that the shape of the logs was but a beginning of many more decisions we’d have to make regarding our dream home. There were also decisions to be made on the interior design. We both liked a rustic look and decided on exposed, heavy timber beams.
In the early years, we were attracted to round logs, but we ended up choosing square logs for our home, much like the ones on the cabin I was born in. Of course, that cabin was too small and confining for our needs. We both wanted something larger, but how much larger could it be while remaining practical? With each step, the more exciting the process became. Pam, more or less, left the size and shape of the house to my discretion. The decor, I left entirely up to her as she always had a great eye for that sort of thing. Frankly, I could have been happy living in the cabin I was born in. I always enjoyed roughing it. It was in my blood!
Returning to square one, I decided to calculate the size I wanted each room to be. One room at a time, I measured and assessed its qualities and its downfalls. We both liked the openness of one great room instead of a living room and family room arrangement like our Vacaville home had. The kitchen, of course, should blend in with the great room. A walk-in pantry off the kitchen made sense and two bedrooms were ideal – as well as a master bedroom, a guest bedroom and two bathrooms. One more room would be necessary to give me a place to play my guitar. That guided us through the selection process of an aesthetically pleasing floor plan that we both could live with. By the time we got to Virginia, we had a pretty good idea of which floor plan we would go with.
Now living in Virginia, with Jeanette and Mike we could watch our log home get built and we wouldn’t be putting them out for more than six months. Pamela Denese’s husband, Danny, recommended a general contractor with a 30-year background in building log homes. After meeting Steve and his wife, Lu, it was obvious who we would trust to build a quality log home for us. By the way, Lu was Danny’s sister. I think it’s quite possible that we are all related around here.
Upon Steve’s recommendation, we looked into the log home company he was affiliated with. Driving to visit their Tennessee headquarters, we ultimately decided on a floor plan from their custom log home designs created by one of their own customers. It was described as a traditional log home design with retired couples or young families in mind. Of course, we customized it somewhat to meet our needs and fancies while incorporating suggestions from Steve.
A two story floor plan, the Clayton model featured 3 bedrooms, two bathrooms, great room, and office/den. The total square footage was more than we wanted so we brought it down by changing one of the two upstairs bedrooms into a loft, reducing the square footage of that room by 50%. It also opened up the great room.
The loft would be used as my music room. We did, however, add two feet to the width of the house in order to accommodate a garage and basement combination. We also planned a dumbwaiter to go from the second floor, to the basement where the laundry would be done. The office/den feature located between the master bathroom and the pantry, would be eliminated to accommodate a deeper, walk-in pantry while making the master bathroom slightly larger. We added a dormer in the upstairs bedroom and Steve suggested we change the single dormer to a double dormer and add a shed dormer on the back side of the house to give us more room in the loft and guest bedroom. Good call!
The first draft wasn’t quite to our specs so we noted the errors before submitting the changes. The second draft required a few measurement adjustments that the architect failed to change the first time. We were satisfied with the third draft until Steve told us how much it was going to cost. It seems that the recent artificially skyrocketing costs in material caused the cost to increase to more than what we had budgeted which was the reason why many construction jobs had been put on hold. This was the post COVID era, after all, and the government had been paying everyone to stay home. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the luxury of putting our construction on hold so we had to roll with the punches.
Back to the drawing board we went to get that cost within our budget. Eliminating the basement, there was no longer a need for the dumb waiter. We also decided to look around for a more affordable roofer because we were determined to stay with a metal roof. It was the roof we preferred from the beginning. Not because it was the least expensive material but for aesthetic reasons. The price increased because of its subsequent popularity. Finding a roofer that would work within our budget, we then submitted and subsequently approved the fourth and final draft on July 30, 2021. Each revision was disheartening in that it caused another delay in completing our house.
Steve then estimated six months from the time we started clearing the property to completion and move-in. When we first started looking into log homes, we were told to expect three to four months from the time they begin clearing the land. That was, however, pre-COVID and as anxious as we were, six months really didn’t seem too bad to us now.
After numerous walks through our thickly wooded property, I decided on the precise location and positioning of the house as well as the driveway details, – the depth, shape and materials. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from the designated location of the septic and drain field. Keeping with the rustic theme, we attended several estate auctions where Pam purchased several antiques for the log cabin, including some old farm equipment to display outside. Jeanette’s basement quickly filled with the furniture and other things, making it difficult to get from one end to the other.
September 27, 2021 – Excavation Day at Turtle Rock. We rarely missed a day observing the construction for the duration. The excavation turned up numerous rocks from under the surface of the ground. Some of them, much too large for the average person to handle. When asked what I wanted done with them, I requested they put them in a nearby pile to be used for future landscaping ideas I had.
After the foundation was poured, I began to think I had made a huge mistake, appearing a bit too small. Then came the subflooring, and preparations for the first log. Our excitement was hard to contain when the big rigs then arrived with all the logs from Tennessee.
Like Batman and Robin, Steve, the knowledgeable and highly skilled craftsman and experienced general contractor, with Keith, his vigilant assistant were a great team and second to none in my opinion. Steve, by his own admission, usually had a larger crew, but they apparently were staying home and collecting their “stay-at-home” government paychecks. Because there were so many others staying home, doing the same, many materials were hard to acquire and consequently more expensive than usual.
The windows of our cabin were made in Oregon, but some of the materials were sitting off the west coast, delaying our project for weeks. Steve directed us to a special plumbing showroom to order all our plumbing fixtures. Keeping with the rustic theme, Pam purchased a farmers’ sink for the kitchen and a claw-foot, slipper bathtub for the guest bathroom with rustic hardware to compliment them both.
The master bathroom would have only a shower, no tub. The rustic shower stall would have tile walls that looked like old barn wood with an exposed aggregate floor. We spent a full day selecting custom cupboards and flooring before going to another location to select the marble slab that would become the counter tops in the kitchen and both bathrooms. It was actually cut to size and the holes drilled for the fittings after it arrived on-site.
When we called to have the kitchen sink and bathtub delivered, we were informed that they didn’t have the tub after assuring us a couple months earlier that they were in the warehouse , with our names on them. I’m sure that it must have been sold and delivered to someone else. Then we played the waiting game. It didn’t arrive on the date they said it would and then again. Taking matters in her own hands, Pam searched the internet and after a few days of calling several places, actually found one in stock, in Massachusetts, if I remember correctly. She purchased it and it was delivered in only a few days.
We learned that Steve had the worst trouble/luck building our log home than any other job he had done. It was a sign of the times. No one worked and material delays were common everywhere. During the final weeks of construction, it rained, and it rained, and it rained causing further delays because it was too wet to do a final grade on the property immediately around the house. It had to be graded and seeded for grass before the county inspectors would sign it off.
Instead of taking three months from start to finish as we had originally been told, and instead of taking six months as Steve had told us to expect, in was two days shy of eleven months after the first tree came down that we crossed the finish line and moved into our new log home – August 25, 2022.
The loft is where I have set up my music room and it displays my momentos from my prior 20-year career in television production, including a wall of fame for the certifications, achievements, and autographed pictures and posters of celebrities that I had the pleasure of working with. It’s where I can be found, playing my guitar, surrounded by reminders of the past great times and memories when I’m not busy working our five wooded acres.
I used the recovered stones to build a walkway from the driveway to the steps in front of the full-length front porch. I also used some of the remaining stones to pave around the fire pit and build a retaining wall for a flower garden that separates the fire pit area from the back yard. A few feet away, I put in an arbor with swinging iron gates at the trailhead to the spring that runs through our property.
I’m not sure if I mentioned it before, but Pam’s mom, Carol, died two weeks after we left California, requiring our immediate return. A couple years later, Cindy, Pam’s oldest sister died after moving from California to Florida to be with her daughter and her family. Last June, we also lost Pam’s dad, Lou. Our first Christmas in our log cabin, Pam and I received the devastating news that Madison had a seizure during her sleep and didn’t recover.
Jeanette and Mike gifted a white stone bench memorializing LT and Madison that I surrounded with transplanted ferns where the trail meets the spring. Within eye’s view from the bench sits a giant rock that stretches out and over the spring that resembles a turtle shell, hence the name, Turtle Rock.
On the sandy banks of the spring, you can often times see prints left by thirsty raccoons, foxes, opossums, and deer that frequent our property. Of course, the spring is home for minnows and frogs and the warm summer nights make the woods look like Christmas with the abundant fireflies throughout.
I stepped out the back door this afternoon to check on the chickens and gather eggs when Yoda, our fearless Yorkie, previously owned by LT and Diana before their untimely passings, stirred up a deer and a fox within a minute or two, right outside the yard, in the woods. It’s obvious that she too loves her new home in the country. Every day here at Turtle Rock is an adventure!
Just a few miles away, four of my five sisters still make this area home. The fifth and youngest sister moved to St. Croix not long after we arrived in Virginia and she continues to live there now. In the next county over, a half-hour away, is Berry Mountain and the log cabin I was born in. We are surrounded by an abundance of history and family heritage.
Pam and I, both, love it here and the country life we now have. I’ve built a vegetable garden for her where we are still learning what grows best. Veggies certainly grow differently here compared to Vacaville! I’ve since added a high fence to keep out the critters and discourage the deer. Being the incredible cook that she is, Pam still enjoys cooking and preparing meals from the garden and I truly love working the property.
A tractor and a hydraulic log splitter now compliment my chainsaw so I don’t work my frail back any harder than need be. While it’s not easy for me to accept, it seems I’m not getting any younger! I spend much of my time outdoors trying to make the wild woods look groomed and aesthetically pleasing. Five acres makes that a full time job for this old man, but only if I care to work full time these days. I work only as hard as I want to now, never running out of things to do. That is the one thing that seems to be going as planned.
I also have a lot more time with my thoughts and I’ve thought a lot about the circumstances surrounding my birth: Sugarloaf handing her two week old baby boy through the window of a car to complete strangers became a story that captured the imaginations of the local mountain folk for years – legendary you might say as was revealed by the young man that asked me if I had heard about it. What still remains a mystery, however, and has not provoked much thought, is not so much why Sugarloaf concealed her pregnancy before retreating to the seclusion of Berry Mountain, but what appears completely innocent on the surface, is the fact that she sneaked away to the outhouse when she went into labor. I offer that maybe she never planned on coming back out with that baby.
Sugarloaf’s confession to Jeanette, years later, that she had given birth to a baby boy just before ending his precious, innocent life and disposing of the body in a garbage bag, led me to wonder if she had planned, years before, on exiting that outhouse alone. No matter how unthinkable her actions may have been, it may have given her a certain degree of comfort in having closure. Isn’t it reasonable to believe a mother’s natural, intrinsic reaction would be to wonder about her baby’s welfare over the years after giving it away to complete strangers?
As inexcusable as it may have been, it would explain why a distraught mother might commit such a desperate act. That would also explain her loving reaction upon meeting that son 55 years later even though she presented herself to others with a hard, protective shell throughout the years.
Three years have passed since we moved into our dream home situated on five wooded acres. We’ve loved every moment of this dream come true. I still get a thrill just walking out the door and seeing our surrounding woods, instead of that asphalt, concrete, and high density housing in California.
In the words of Paul Anka, I reflect:
“regrets, I’ve had a few,
But too few to mention…
I’ve lived a life that’s full.
I’ve traveled each and every highway…
I did it my way.”
I’ve had some remarkable highs and lows throughout my life. I attribute much of my successes to Mom and Dad, even though I may not have been smart enough to be a lawyer, and to each and every person I’ve known throughout my life. For without them, I would not be who I am today. I truly believe that each of us is a product of each and everyone we’ve come in contact with throughout our lives.
For those whom I may have hurt, as God is my witness, I assure you that it was never my intention and I’m truly sorry.
Few others are as blessed as I am today. Thank you, one and all.
After spending Thanksgiving with Jeanette and family, I returned home for Christmas. Haywood’s health had taken a turn for the worse during my visit. He had been suffering recent setbacks from his battle with diabetes and COPD. Poor circulation in his legs led to amputations of his toes and later his leg. One evening while the three of us were watching television in the basement, he had fallen asleep in his recliner. It was then that I noticed just how bad he really was. His breathing was rather loud, gurgling with each exhalation, reminding me of both my parents shortly before they passed. Not wanting to upset Jeanette, I didn’t say anything to her about it. I’m sure she knew in her heart that the time was near.
On Christmas morning, Jeanette called with the news that he had died in his sleep on Christmas Eve. She then asked if I would be a pall bearer at his funeral. Of course I accepted. It was a great honor to carry this stellar man and honorable war hero to his final resting place.
Back again in Virginia, my stay was unexpectedly extended as there were a total of seven deaths within a matter of six weeks. Two of them included Mike’s mother and his cousin who lived across the road from he and a Jeanette, both of whom I had the pleasure of knowing over the years.
As I write this, I’m reminded of the time that Jeanette and I went with a small group of other family members to a nearby casino one night. Haywood and Oshie, Mike’s mother, were part of the group. Oshie had been playing a particular slot machine when Haywood asked her if he could give it a try. There was always a healthy competition between them and she reluctantly let him sit in for a few minutes. With his first tug of the handle on the one-arm bandit, Haywood hit the jackpot. We were all in disbelief. Oshie began to get upset to the point that she explained it away by saying there was a camera on that particular machine and the person watching noticed that he was a Korean War POW and felt sorry for him, giving him that jackpot. Her behavior was so funny, partly because she truly believed what she was saying. We laughed about that for years! The truth is, he was always lucky that way. I never knew anyone who won so much while gambling, especially with scratch tickets!
While visiting Lou and Carol, Pam revealed the news of our property purchase. I guess the pressure of keeping it a secret had become too much for her. I was probably just as surprised as they were, except for a different reason. She hadn’t discussed telling them with me. Not that she had to, but we usually discussed such things first. Understandibly disappointed, they both eventually realized it was going to make both of us happy to be able to retire with everything we always had hoped for. We gladly shared pictures and video of the property as they inquired. Lou and I talked at great length over the following months as he expressed pleasure in knowing that Pam and I were going to get out of California while we could and leave that mess that our political leaders had made of the state. By his own admission, he would have loved to be able to do the same but it was unfortunately too late for them.
Every eight to ten years, technology in my line of work, advances so much that it required updating my equipment, costing tens of thousands of dollars. Business has been so bad that I could no longer justify the investment. After 20 years in a career I loved dearly, I ultimately closed my commercial production business and retired. While being disappointed over having to close my business, I understood that it was nothing less than a blessing to have had two twenty-year careers that I loved so much. There are too many people that have but a single career in a job they aren’t truly satisfied doing.
I didn’t stay retired very long before deciding I needed something more to do. I guess I wasn’t quite ready for a rocking chair. After all, I was only in my early 60s. Feeling I could afford to be particular about what I would do, I decided that I wasn’t going to accept a position of leadership or management. I had had enough of that. My major hurdle, however, would be convincing the person reviewing my resume or application that I wasn’t as old as I appeared on paper. I could have documented my age as ten years younger and no one would have known the difference by looking at me, but my work history would have given it away. I wanted to do something different than I had done for the past 40 years so no machine shops and no television production this time around.
Deciding to apply for a position delivering meals to the needy, I had a time trying to convince them I was exactly what they needed. I interviewed for a job delivering snacks to the Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs in Napa from Suisun, California. They were doubtful regarding my ability to handle 50 each, 100 pound ice chests every day. Being a retired bodybuilder of 20 years, there was no doobt in my mind that I could perform the tasks but they didn’t seem to be convinced after my interview. I was therefore, doubtful about getting that job so I applied for a delivery driver position with FedEx in neighboring Fairfield. Much to my surprise, I received a phone call regarding the first application. I was told that they wanted me for the job but was afraid that I wouldn’t accept what little they could afford to pay. Telling them to make me an offer, I suggested they let me decide. They did, and I agreed to their terms. A couple weeks into the job, they appeared pleased with my work ethic and I certainly was happy to be working again although I must admit that handling so many ice chests was physically challenging.
FedEx then called to set up an interview. After one month delivering snacks to the Boys’ and Girls’ club, and allowing money to be my compass, I went to work as a delivery driver for FedEx. The demands of driving 90 minutes from Fairfield to San Rafael and Sausalito five days a week and as long as 14 hours a day wore me down. After a year and a half, my knees could no longer take climbing in and out of that big delivery truck. Although my spirit was willing, my body, in its 60s, was clearly telling me that the time was now.
Following Madison’s graduation from high school, we took her with us to Virginia. One of the highlights of her trip was meeting her dad’s identical cousin, Bino. She couldn’t get over the likeness between them and insisted on getting a picture with him. We also took her to the cabin on the mountain where I was born and then to visit the property we had purchased. She fell in love with it and said she wanted to live there with us after finishing college. Of course, we were delighted to know this and made a deal with her. She could live with us in her own place on our property only if she cared for the animals we planned on having. She grew even more excited and said she couldn’t wait!
Later, LT had been having problems at work, subsequently losing his job with the town of Danville. I went to his house to see if I could help him. He was very upset and reluctant to talk about it. He eventually told me that they let him go for health reasons. I wasn’t buying that as I know that you can’t be fired from a government job because of health reasons. Pam and Diana had told that he had a drinking problem and that’s why he lost his job. He wouldn’t let me help so I realized he just wasn’t ready. Before leaving I told him I would be back in a few days to check on him.
When I returned, he refused to answer the door. Shortly after I drove away, he called me on the phone to let me know he was home but too busy to answer the door. I proceeded to tell him that I realized he wasn’t ready to deal with the root problem, but when he was, he could call me and I would help.
About one week later, in early February I flew back to visit Jeanette. Valentines Day evening, I was in bed when I received a text from Pam asking me to call her. Noticing how late it was, I knew something was wrong. She said she had tried to call me but it wouldn’t go through. Stepping out the back door of the basement, I called her back and heard the worst news a parent could ever hear. She told me that “LT was dead.” Josh had called to tell her that he had been trying to call him on the phone and he wasn’t answering. He then asked her to go check on him. She did and found him lifeless on his bed. I immediately told her that I was going to book the next flight out and call her right back to let her know when I’d be home.
Jeanette had also gone to bed. Mike was in his recliner, the living room where he spent practically every hour of the day. Not wanting to wake him, I went directly to Jeanette’s room to let her know. After telling her the news, I told her I was going to book the next flight back home. Returning to the basement, I was so distraught that I couldn’t even book a flight on my laptop. Jeanette got up to tell Mike the news before coming downstairs to check on me. So distressed, I had to ask her to book the flight for me.
As soon as Jeanette gave me the flight information, I called Pam to let her know and find out if she was okay. She assured me she was as well as could be expected and staying the night with her parents. It wasn’t long before Dinah and Susan arrived to help me through this most difficult time. Approaching 3AM, they had been there for a couple hours or so and had to head out to get some sleep before going to work in the morning.
Jeanette accompanied me on the flight in the morning. Thank God she did because I was a complete mess. We got the last two seats on the plane all the way in the back. I remember little else about the flight as I spent nearly every minute with my face in my hands. Jeanette was a godsend! I couldn’t have done it without her.
It was only a few weeks after LT’s funeral that Diana informed us that she had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She died just before Christmas. Her body was cremated and the ashes were scattered at sea. Pam and I paid tribute to her by adding her name to LT’s tombstone. We were both completely devastated. I, for one, wasn’t handling the losses very well and began to self medicate by drinking in the evenings. With LT and now Diana gone, we could at least count our blessings that we still had Madison. At least there was some comfort knowing that she would be coming to live with us after she graduates college.
Taking a job driving for Uber, I was making good money, more than I could have imagined, honestly. However, it wasn’t about the money for me at that point. I enjoyed conversing with the riders, which often times led to my telling them about Jeanette’s enduring journey to find me.
When COVID hit, everything changed for the worse. Nearly overnight, the roads and highways became eerily vacated. Cities looked like ghost towns and few people were requesting Uber. Those who did however, now seemed to be angry and mean spirited. Maybe it was due to being closed in and having little personal contact outside their close family members. Drivers and riders alike, were required to wear masks. We had to spray everything inside the vehicle after each rider.
Trying to breathe with a surgical mask was difficult for me, but I found some relief by slipping it down, off my nose, always pulling it back up before the next rider entered the vehicle. One rider reported me on the Uber app, claiming that I didn’t wear a mask during their ride. Uber sent me a warning that I could be terminated for not being compliant. I never drove without it on my face. I couldn’t take that chance of getting COVID and giving it to Pam who because of her diabetes, was a high risk. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that would have happened. Several days later, when I arrived to pick up another rider, it turned out to be a no show. I reported it as such so I could be released from that ride. I later learned that the rider who failed to show up reported that they wouldn’t ride with a driver that didn’t wear a mask. Of course, that too was a false claim. I was warned that a third report like that would lead to my dismissal. I had been driving Uber for a year and a half by then and everyone of my reviews were excellent up to that time. I didn’t want to risk losing my job over false claims so I quit. It was just before Christmas and Pam was planning to retire the following February. Deciding to fully retire, it was our plan to sell everything as soon as she retired and move to Virginia where we would build our log home to our needs and desires.
Saturday and Sunday, March 7 and 8, our real estate agent hosted an open house, immediately after it was listed. We held an estate sale on those same days making for some pretty heavy foot traffic that weekend. We sold everything we could so we wouldn’t be taking much back with us. Pam wanted to start from scratch with our new home in Virginia.
The following Tuesday, after three bids had been submitted for the house, we accepted one of the two that was higher than our asking price. The third offer was exactly the amount we were asking for.
Jeanette, Mike, and David arrived from Virginia, hauling a trailer for the things we decided to keep. Roberta, their neighbor from across the road also came along for the road trip. at the end of that week. Pam’s last day at work was Friday, March 13, one month after her original retirement date. David and I loaded the trailer and hooked it up to my truck before we were on the road Sunday morning. At long last, Pam and I were now part of the mass exodus that resulted in 360,000 – 400,000 people leaving what was once the golden state.
Turtle Rock 