Turtle Rock

With very little tread remaining on the tires of my 1968 Toyota Corona, I drove over the Sierra Mountains and through Nevada throughout the night, determined to go as far as I could without sleeping. I think it was sometime during the following day, I suddenly found myself straining to see the road ahead. I had been in automatic pilot for who knows how long. By the time I realized it was snowing, the road was already white. Knowing that my tires shouldn’t be on the road in the snow, I pulled off at the next rest stop, bundled up and went right to sleep. When I woke up, I had no idea how long I’d been there, but the roads had been cleared. After getting cleaned up and some refreshments from the vending machines, I wasted little time getting back on the road and slept at the rest stops the next two nights. It was Thursday, Thanksgiving day when I arrived in Dayton, Ohio.

Stopping at a local gas station, I purchased a local street map to guide me to Mom and Dad Shepherd’s house in Huber Heights, a suburb of Dayton back then. It was early afternoon and they were as happy to see me as I was them. We celebrated my arrival by enjoying Thanksgiving dinner together. I was then invited to take Geno’s old bed in the room with his older brother which was a nicely converted garage.

During the following days, they told me I was welcome to stay as long as I needed. I helped out as much as I could by doing chores around the house and even helping Dad Shepherd with his work as the night janitor at a nearby school while looking for work in my spare time. One day, he took me to a small machine shop in Dayton where he seemed to know nearly everyone there. Introducing me around it wasn’t long before I found myself working in the shipping department, for his lifelong friend, Willie. Within a year, I was working in the manufacturing section, learning the machinist trade under the supervision of Harry, the company Vice President. It was a small nonunion shop that manufactured hydraulic fittings that were sold around the world. While everyone in the assembly and shipping areas worked eight hour days, five days a week, those of us in the machine shop worked 10 hour days, Monday through Friday plus 5 hours on Saturday. No exceptions! Those of us in the machine shop didn’t get time off for lunch so we ate while we worked. At the end of our workday we all clocked out at 5:00PM. My friend, Lavelle, the only black machinist in the shop, clocked out with everyone else but was the only one who clocked back in on a different time card to put in yet a second shift performing janitorial duties. I couldn’t believe how they took advantage of his extraordinary work ethic and good nature.

After thirteen months, I decided to take a week off and go out to California for a Christmas visit. I stayed with Mom and Dad that week while spending much of my time with Pam and her family as my parents never altered their routine of practically living at the bar. It was a nice visit, even if it no longer felt like home.

The following summer, after Pam’s parents made arrangements with Mom and Dad Shepherd, they allowed her to fly out to visit me for a week. That was a big step for her rather strict parents as they never allowed any of their four daughters to go out on a date unless it was a double date.

During that visit, I proposed to Pam and we both found an apartment that I would move into after she returned to California. After a week passed, I flew with her to visit her grandparents in Iowa for a few days. She stayed a while longer, before returning home to Napa, California where they had moved to during Pam’s junior year.

At her request, I nervously wrote her dad to ask for her hand in marriage. After talking it over with Pam, he gave us their permission to marry. We wanted to get married as soon as she graduated in June, but agreed to wait until August at their request.

During that last year, I not only worked ten hours a day in the machine shop, I also worked a few additional hours in the evenings at Church’s Fried Chicken and Burger King in Fairborn for extra money. I was saving everything I made and didn’t buy anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. I did however continue my weekend excursions when I didn’t have to work, to Xenia, where my friends, Larry and Linda lived on Lake Shawnee to fish, swim, and water ski. I also managed to attended church on Sundays and Wednesdays when I could.

Taking a day to go fishing, I found what looked like a relaxing setting around a stream and pulled over, parking my car on the side of the road. It was a short walk across a field where I went down a short embankment and settled in. After a short while, a friendly old man in bib overalls stood at the top of the embankment where he asked if that was my car on the side of the road. Admitting it was, I asked him if it was okay there. Assuring me everything was fine, he mentioned the Mare Island Naval Shipyard sticker on the windshield, adding that he was stationed there about 35 years ago. I guess I was as surprised as he was. After explaining that I had it because I had been a navy dependent, he told me about Vallejo back in those days, including the red light district downtown. He said that people used to ride the ferry from San Francisco just to party in Vallejo on their weekends back then. I told him that I had heard others say the same thing and that it has changed quite a bit over the years. Before leaving, he told me to enjoy myself and wished me luck. You never know where the stranger standing next to you may have been or what he may have experienced over the years! Like the song goes, “when it’s least expected, you’re elected…” A few hours later, I went home empty handed but that old man had made my day!

When July arrived, I had saved more than I needed from all three jobs. The time had come to get my money from the bank. Handing my withdrawal slip to the teller, she excused herself for a moment. Upon returning, she nervously informed me that there wasn’t enough in my account to cover the amount requested. Well, I knew that wasn’t so. She then proceeded to show me an earlier withdrawal slip for everything in my account except just enough to keep it open. The signature on that withdrawal slip obviously wasn’t mine and judging by the look on her face, she knew it as well. The bank subsequently initiated an investigation, but in the meantime, I was broke and had no idea what my next move was going to be.

Returning to my apartment, I then telephoned my parents in California and explained to them my unfortunate situation before asking them if I could borrow just enough for plane fare and a little extra to cover my out of pocket expenses, much less than I was planning on taking from my own money, while there. My heart sank when they denied my plea without explanation.

Desperately, I went over to Mom and Dad Shepherd’s to break the news to them. Presenting them with all the evidence I had, Mom and Dad Shepherd said they would do what they could to help. A day or so later, they informed me that they had talked to my parents who adamantly told them they didn’t believe my story and that they believed I wasted all my money on drinking and parties. I was never one to waste my money and I never was one to drink and party. I had no idea why they would have concluded that. Not only was I not partying my money away, I had been holding down three jobs so I could save even more! What else could I do but blame their own drinking for their unreasonable and insensitive reaction.

Understanding my situation, Mom and Dad Shepherd decided to loan me the money I needed. I was truly taken by their understanding and generosity. They certainly didn’t have to do that. Beholding to them, I assured them that I would pay them back as soon as possible.

Returning to my apartment, I parked my car next to my apartment building where a lone painter had been painting for a week or so. Approaching me, he told me that he had let my roommate use his ladder to gain access to our apartment where he had accidentally locked his keys inside about a week or so back. I felt as though I had just been hit with a ton of bricks! When I told him that I lived by myself on that second floor apartment, he then apologized and described that guy to me. The description perfectly matched the person who lived in the next building with a couple women. Taking that information to the bank, they thanked me and turned it over to the investigators.

Mom Shepherd asked me if I would do her a favor by asking Geno’s older brother to be my best man. I was between a rock and a hard place and I couldn’t believe she was asking that of me. She assured me that he wouldn’t accept and I could then ask Geno. It just didn’t seem right. Geno was my first and only choice. I didn’t want him to think that he was my second choice, after all, he and I had been best friends for too long, not to mention that I was his choice to be his best man. I just couldn’t chance it. My heart broke as I told her that I just couldn’t do it. I can only imagine what she must have thought.

I flew out to California one week prior to the wedding. Geno and Charmaine arrived later, on the red eye. On the eve of their arrival, I got a couple cots out of the garage and set them up in the living room. I then got the alarm clock from the night stand in Mom and Dad’s bedroom as it was the only clock in the house with an alarm on it. I couldn’t chance oversleeping and leaving them stranded at the airport. A couple hours later, I heard Mom coming down the hallway, shouting about not having her clock, using words that would have embarrassed a sailor! I explained why we had it, but she didn’t care. She demanded I put it back simply because she wanted to know what time it is when she wakes up in the middle of the night. There was just no reasoning with her. I put it back and Pam and I stayed up to avoid oversleeping.

We had a beautiful wedding at St. Peter’s Chapel on Mare Island Naval Shipyard, the oldest chapel in the entire U.S. navy, complete with Tiffany stained glass windows. Following the wedding ceremony, at the reception, Auntie Barb asked me what I liked to drink before explaining that she was going to buy us whatever we wanted, making it clear that she meant alcohol. I thankfully told her that we liked vodka and orange juice. Later, much to our surprise, we got in the car to make our exit and noticed a bag on the back seat containing vodka and orange juice to enjoy once we arrived at our destination. We spent the following week on the northern California coast in a beautiful small cabin. It was a painful, embarrassing week as I had slipped in the shower the first night and split my tailbone open. I didn’t tell Pam and I didn’t go to the emergency room to have it stitched up, deciding not to say anything and taking the chance on ruining the honeymoon. After we returned from our honeymoon, we found ourselves at the airport saying goodbye to Pam’s parents where in tears, her Mom asked me to take good care of her little girl. Of course, I assured her that I would and she said, “oh, I know you will.”

More to come…

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