Turtle Rock

The Whims of a Little Boy

March 30, 2026

When you were five, what did you want to be when you grew up?

As I sit with a fresh cup of hot coffee on my back porch, overlooking the woods beyond our vegetable garden and backyard, my mind wanders back to what was a rather imaginary childhood. Even what I was told was true, ultimately turned out not to be. That, however, is another story. I was a “navy brat” and an only child, a combination that would have spelled trouble in many households I’m sure.

My parents were married nine years before I was born. Mom and Dad found it challenging if not impossible to conceive. In their eyes, I was nothing short of a blessing from above when I came into their lives. Not because I am a special person by any means, I assure you. As hard as I tried to be a good little boy, there were moments when my mischievous nature got me in trouble.

Dad was an enlisted man in Uncle Sam’s navy for 21 years. One of my early memories was Mom getting us ready to take him to report for duty on the shipyard. I remember Dad, along with everyone else, stopping the car on the causeway to get out, stand at attention and salute upon hearing the national anthem being played throughout the shipyard. Upon arriving at their destination, Dad got out of the car and Mom moved over into the driver’s seat. My attention turned to all the civil service employees, apparently at the end of their work shifts, exiting the nearby dry docks. Very young and impressionable, I was fascinated by that image of those men exiting the submarines and marching out of the dry docks. I told Mom that I wanted to do that when I grew up. She thought it was cute and I never gave it another thought.

I spent many weekends of my childhood in the two movie theaters downtown and watching a lot of television. Westerns were my favorite and whenever we drove anywhere, I found myself looking at the countryside and thinking what would make good scenery for a western movie. I guess it was natural that I might fancy a career in one of those two industries as well.

Leaving home when I was 17 years old, I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. A career in entertainment didn’t seem a logical choice for me. However, I was fortunate to have a second father figure who used his influence to get me a job as a shipping clerk in a machine shop. It was there that I learned the machinist trade. As fate would have it, in my early 20s, I was later hired and found myself working on that very same shipyard, in those very same dry docks I had observed as a young, fanciful boy. I had been on loan from the inside machine shop to the outside machine shop for one year of my 20-year career there until I became one of the many victims of the shipyard closure.

Returning to school, I earned a degree in television production where I worked for the following 20 years before retiring.

I consider myself very fortunate to have had not one, but two 20-year careers in seperate fields that I truly loved.
Yesterday and Today

March 19, 2026

What activities do you lose yourself in?

For twenty years of my life, I frequently lost myself in the gym as a bodybuilder to the point of addiction. Spending three to four hours at a time, three and four days a week working out, I just couldn’t get enough. I pushed myself so hard that I would achieve what dedicated bodybuilders described as a feeling not unlike a runner’s high upon breaking that barrier. Upon achieving the “pump,” I could feel what I describe as similar to a skin-splitting sensation and as painful as it may sound, I assure you it was quite the opposite. An “all-natural” bodybuilder, I avoided using body enhancement drugs that accelerate a bodybuilder’s progress that was so prevalent then. Thank God I resisted those temptations as I’m sure it’s a good reason I’m as healthy as I am today. I never expected to realize any long term affects. As I explained to those who asked me if I lived that lifestyle rxpecting to live longer. Most seemed surprised when I replied that I did it only to improve my quality of life.

It all came to an abrupt end, however, when I suffered a debilitating, on-the-job, back injury that required two subsequent surgeries in order to simply get back up on my feet again. During my recovery period, I received the emotionally devastating news that I should never again lift or push more than 35 pounds. To put that into perspective, that was only 6% of my bench press maximum 525 pounds. Additionally, I had to find a different career field after having spent 20 years as a machinists, a career that I truly loved. Bodybuilding was the activity that I loved but would no longer be able to participate in. Devastated, I spiraled into a deep depression that lasted for years. Eventually recovering enough to stop taking antidepressants, 30 years later I still greatly miss those very intense and gratifying workouts.

I enjoyed music as a young boy and credit my best friend for my vast music appreciation. A trumpet player in the school band, he seemed to know everything about music and that inspired me to the point that I could easily lose myself in music. Whether it’s listening to the radio, playing some old records and/or CDs, my guitar, or simply going out for an evening of live entertainment, to this day, it remains my panacea.

As a child, I was influenced first by Ricky Nelson. During the month of February, 1964, after seeing the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, I began to develop a deeper interest in music and began listening to other artists as well. My mom and dad bought me a used accoustic guitar when I was in the fifth grade and paid for weekly lessons. I learned how to read music, pick some songs, and play a few chords, but I wasn’t learning what I wanted to play. One year later, discontent with my lack of progress, I stopped taking lessons. Back then, it was rock n roll and nothing else for me. Picking it back up from time to time over the years, I just didn’t have the discipline.

It was in my late 50s that I felt I was ready to commit to learning those chords that had so intimidated me in the past. I had been further inspired upon discovering online the Epiphone limited-edition signature model of the guitar that John Lennon played. My wife surprised me with it on my 60th birthday and I became determined to get beyond that life-long intimidation. Empty nesters by this time, I found that I had the time to apply myself. It wasn’t long before I was able to play chords that scared me to death as a youngster and I began to enjoy playing my guitar more than ever.

The Beatles started out by writing songs based on the pop music they themselves were listening to. Critics were quite vocal over the three-chord structure of their songs quite possibly because of their overwhelming popularity. All that changed following a meeting with Bob Dylan. It’s said that he told them their songs didn’t mean or say anything. They then began writing some of the hardest music to play and I never imagined that I would ever find myself playing it. My determination paid off and surprisingly enough, I soon found myself playing many of their songs. Today, I enjoy getting lost in music more than ever before.
A New Beginning

March 11, 2026

Today, March 11, marks five years since we arrived in Virginia, our new home, where we began the adventure of building our life-long dream home. We truly spent the last 50 years dreaming and planning for the country life in a log home.

The dream began shortly after our wedding in 1973, in St. Peter’s Chapel on Mare Islsnd Naval Shipyard. The oldest chapel on a U.S. naval base. Incidentally, buried in the nearby Cemetary is the daughter of Francis Scott Key. That’s how old that naval installation is. If you don’t know who he is, you owe it to yourself to find out. The chapel itself actually displays some of the very first Tiffany stained glass windows ever made.

We lived our first year in Dayton, Ohio where I had been learning the machinist trade for two years prior, apart from one another. Twelve months after our wedding, my application for a machinist position at Mare Island had been accepted and we were soon on our way back to the San Francisco Bay Area.

Interviewed by General Foreman, Jack Tamargo on Thursday, September 5, I was informed that because I was self taught and had only been working in the trade for three years, he couldn’t justify hiring me as a journeyman machinist further explaining that it took an apprentice four years to reach that level. Initially, I felt betrayed. Driving more that 2,000 miles, I had left my job in Ohio and come all that way only to be ultimately denied the position I had been led to believe was mine.

Friday, September 6, I began my first day of work in Shop 31 for Howard Weaver. Saturday, September 7, President Nixon placed a freeze on all government hiring. I had just barely avoided what could have been a catastrophic turn of events – driving cross country after leaving that bird-in-the-hand only to find myself unemployed. By swallowing my pride and accepting the conditions set forth by Mr. Tamargo, I had unwittingly avoided strike three. I was instead, on base and still in the game.

I had been working a few months in Shop 31 when I was placed on loan to Shop 38, the outside machine shop when they had found themselves short handed because of the increased workflow and the government hiring freeze. The temporary assignment was not to exceed 3 months.

One year later, I returned to Shop 31 after someone remembered I had been loaned out. Not long after my return, Mr. Weaver began encouraging me to apply for the journeyman machinist position. I was instead promoted to WG-9 from WG-8, one step below a WG-10, journeyman machinist. I’m sure that Mr. Tamargo, concerned with appearances, was behind holding me back. On the other hand, throughout my Shop 31 career, I witnessed far too many inexperienced and unqualified people receive promotions within the machine shop in the name of “upward mobility.”

Not long after my promotion, I requested a transfer to another section of the machine shop to broaden my work experience so I could earn that elusive journeyman machinist position. After five years on the job, my supervisor, Bill Nunes, asked why I hadn’t applied for the journeyman position. I explained that I had become discouraged as result of Mr. Tamargo’s comments and reluctance. Shaking his head and throwing his arms into the air in frustration, Mr. Nunes told me that he felt comfortable assigning me any job that came into the section with the confidence that I could complete it just as well as anyone else that worked for him. “Complete the application and I will write a letter of recommendation to supplement it,” he said. After the application date closed, it wasn’t long before I received that what had been, until then, the elusive promotion to Journeyman Machinist. Grateful for his support, I continued working for Mr. Nunes in the lathe section of the machine shop for a long time after.

When I was invited to work in the exclusive nuclear section of the machine shop, I wasn’t very excited about it. I had heard a lot of negative and discouraging views from others about the constraints and affects of nuclear work and possible radiation exposure. Finally, after several attempts by the nuclear section, I decided to find out for myself if what I had been told was true. Accepting the invitation, I first learned that only the exceptional machinists were invited into the nuclear program and that their number one priority was strict “procedure compliance.” Anyone who couldn’t strictly comply with procedures was sent back to the “black iron” area of the machine shop, which was where the non nuclear production took place. I spent most of my Shop 31 career in the nuclear section, where my supervisor, Roger Nelson was a great mentor. Eventually moving into inspection, I began performing in-house quality assurance inspections on all manufactured parts before they were allowed to be shipped out to other shops in the industrial area of the shipyard for use in the nuclear reactor compartments of the submarines.

While working in the inside machine shop on mare island naval shipyard, we lived with Pam’s parents until we got an apartment in Napa, California.

In 1976, we became the proud parents of a baby boy. Later that year, we purchased our first home in nearby Vacaville. Pam and I loved that community because it was so much like the community we had both grown up in – Vallejo, the home of Mare Island Naval Shipyard. Not long after we moved into our new home, I joined the Jim Fixx running revolution that was taking the country by storm.

In 1980, however, after our second son was born, I developed shin splints and gave up running and started bodybuilding – an activity that I loved and continued for 20 years.

As I gained more experience as a machinist, I began to realize what I had repeatedly been told by my mathematics teachers throughout my childhood – for everything in life, there is a mathematical equation. While never doubting what I had been told, I never really experienced it until I had completely delved into the machinist trade. That understanding, led me to developing certain machining techniques that I had discovered without ever thinking that no one else was aware of and certainly wasn’t being taught in the vestibule. I felt that a whole new world was opening up to me through numbers and mathematics. I was truly able to accurately add five-figured numbers in my head as fast as you can enter them into a calculator and get the results. Sometimes faster. I saw the relationship to many things in my life through mathematical equations. It was then that things began to click in my head and I began to perform my job at a new level of confidence. And it wasn’t limited only to my work. I also began to create new techniques in my personal workouts and realizing greater gains as a bodybuilder as well.

Pam and I had been visiting my dad after he had purchased a new refrigerator and was being delivered. The two-man delivery team placed the new refrigerator about ten feet away from the existing refrigerator before removing that one and taking it back out to the truck. Standing at eye level, I noticed the cupboard above the old refrigerator looked like it might be a problem with the fit. Looking at it more closely, I determined that it would just fit. My dad noticed the pending issue, however he wasn’t as optimistic as I was. He was shaking his head as I assured him that it would not only fit, but it would clear by 1/4.” Snapping back that I couldn’t possibly see that difference. A glaring difference to me, I offered a bet but he wouldn’t take it. When the two guys returned, they too said they thought it might not fit. Again, I said, 1/4″ clearance. Shaking their heads, they proceeded to gently slide the new refrigerator into its place. I got the ruler from the kitchen drawer and measured the clearance space at the top. It cleared the cupboard by exactly 1/4.” Pam stood nearby, smiling, never saying a word. Dad said he never would have believed it and that it was a lucky guess on my part. I told him that as a machinist, I deal with tolerances of 0.015″ and 1/4″ looks like a mile to me.

When there was a position created to support the supervisors in the production machine shop and help specifically with continued assistance and training of the apprentices, I applied. It was a WG-11 Work Leader promotion that seemed to be a natural step into the supervisor position for anyone who may be so inclined. Later, when the position for apprentice instructor became available in the vestibule, I was personally approached by the person in charge of that area. When he suggested I apply, I regrettably informed him that I wasn’t sure I was the right person because I was self taught in the trade and had no experience with the formal education aspect of the job where I would be required to also teach trade theory in a classroom setting and make my own curriculum. Not only was I very unsure of my ability to do that, I was sure that there must have been someone else better qualified than myself. He further encouraged me to apply and assured me that he would take care of everything else. After giving it more thought, I concluded that he probably only wanted me to apply so he could hire someone else and be able to say that the new-hire was selected from a pool of applicants, leaving me out in the cold so to speak. After submitting my application, much to my surprise, I was hired and the thought of me having to create my own curriculum while teaching trade theory scared me to death!

It was during those years that Pam and I had purchased not one, but two country properties in Northern California where we had planned on building our dream log home where we could retire to.

As my first group of apprentices were nearing the end of their tenure in the vestibule, we learned that the shipyard was scheduled for permanent shutdown. That class was to be the last apprentices in the Mate Island Naval Shipyard apprenticeship program. I returned with them to the production machine shop as a Work Leader in the section I had been in before going to the vestibule.

There was a new supervisor in that section and when he has to be off to have surgery, I was assigned a temporary appointment to fill in for him. He has been gone for just over three months when I was sweeping the office floor and herniated three discs in my lower back when I sneezed while bent over, sweeping the dust into the dust pan, suddenly bringing an end to my bodybuilding career.

I was bedridden for three months before I was given the okay to have surgery so I could walk and return to work. When I did eventually return to work, things were very different and a lot of people were already gone. After I left the shipyard, I was placed in vocational rehabilitation before going to school in the Napa Valley Community College, enrolled in the Respiratory Therapy Program. After completing my third of four semesters, I changed direction and followed my heart into Television Production Program at Solano Community College, where I graduated top of my class and spent the next 20 years in the second career that I absolutely loved.

I retired at the end of 2020. Pam retired a few months later and we both sold everything we had and moved to Virginia where we built our dream log home on five wooded acres. It’s now been five years since we arrived and we both live our lives on our little piece of heaven on earth.
Deus Ex Machina

March 9, 2026

What is your middle name? Does it carry any special meaning/significance?

My life, simply put, has not been one of mere coincidence. After close examination, it is abundently clear that it was undeniably created and molded by the hand of God through a blueprint that was developed long before I drew my first breath.

My mom, Inga, was born to an Alaska native and Norwegian immigrant who made his living as a ship’s captain. She was raised in the wilderness of Alaska with her younger brother, Teddy. An avid outdoorsman, he spent much of his time trapping and enjoying a broad spectrum of outdoor activities. Unfortunately, his life was cut short in his early 20s, murdered by a jealous husband who laid in wait for him while he was out checking his traps.

Mom and Dad married after a whirlwind, three-day courtship in the San Francisco area as he was preparing to ship out and fight in World War II. They both dearly loved children, but were unable to conceive. After enduring that heartbreak during the first nine years of their marriage, one of Dad’s shipmates informed them that his sister’s neighbor had just given birth to a baby boy and couldn’t keep it. Without hesitation, Mom and Dad leaped at the opportunity to fill that poignant void in their lives.

Living in the hills of Madison, Dot, the shipmate’s sister, arranged for the transfer of the 2-week-old baby boy, whom his grandmother referred to as “Warner,” after her own dad. Delivered through the window of a car by my biological mother I instantaneously became an only child and a well-kept family secret of the only parents I would know for 55 years.

Subsequently given the middle name of Mom’s late brother, Theodore. I was called Teddy in his memory. How appropriate was that since it is “a masculine given name of Greek origin, derived from Theodoros, which combines theos (God) and doron (gift), meaning “gift of God” or “God-given.” It has been a popular, historically significant name since antiquity, notably borne by saints, emperors, and US President Theodore Roosevelt.”

Nicknames include Theo, Ted, and Teddy.

Related names include Theodora (feminine), Theodorus, Teodoro (Italian/Spanish), and Fyodor (Russian), Todor (Bulgarian).

My given middle name, Theodore, is a classic enduring name and has experienced a resurgence of popularity across the anglosphere in the 2010s and 2020s. It reflects historic, reverent, and “vintage” charm often associated with intellect and strength. However, I’m sure there are more than a few who will heartily debate the “vintage charm” and “intellect” aspects of those associations to my name.
Beyond Berry Mountain 5

February 26, 2026

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.
It Sounds Like A Movie!

February 13, 2026

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!”
Beyond The Legend of Berry Moontain 4

February 11, 2026

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.

More to come
Dreams Do Come True

February 11, 2026

My Dream Home
Turtle Rock

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.

Yes, dreams do come true.
Beyond the Legend of Berry Mountain 3

February 4, 2026

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 autumn and 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.

More to come
Beyond The Legend of Berry Mountain 2

January 29, 2026

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.

More to come

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