Turtle Rock

A machinist on swing shift with a reputation for not cleaning up his work area at the end of his shift left it for me one too many times. Everyone on the graveyard and day shifts refused to follow him because they didn’t want to clean up after him. Everyone but me, which meant I had to clean up his mess before I could begin my assignment, delaying me as much as an hour sometimes before I could get started on my own work. Anyone who didn’t know this would, of course, conclude that I’m not pulling my weight because I couldn’t complete an 8-hour job within my shift. I wasn’t happy about that. My supervisor wasn’t happy about that, and the planning department wasn’t happy about that. That would eventually have a negative affect on my annual performance review and I was trying to avoid that. Explaning to my supervisor, Mr. Benito, what was going on, I naturally expected him to talk to that guy or his supervisor to correct the problem.

One morning as my workday began, I was assigned a job on the same machine that that same guy had left an extraordinary amount of metal chips all over. He either had not been talked to or he just didn’t care. Noticing a small hole on the side of his rollaway tool box, while cleaning up the mess, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I proceeded to fill his toolbox with as many of those oily, sticky metal chips as I could get through that hole. Then placing the air hose nozzle through it, I proceeded to scatter those chips throughout the inside. Cleaning up that mess was going to take a great deal more time than had he simply cleaned it up at the end of his shift. I was sure that the message would be a strong one, one that he wouldn’t soon forget.

Near the end of our shift, the following day, I had finished a little early and was enjoying a cup of coffee with Timmy, a senior machinist in the automatics section. The owner of that toolbox, a short, skinny guy, sought me out and asked if I was the one who dumped all those metal chips in his toolbox. As I told him I was, I noticed his right hand clinching into a fist. Nonchalantly, I switched my coffee from my left hand to my right. Telegraphing his next move, he then swung his arm from his side, up, around and over his head to strike me. Raising my left arm, I blocked his blow. Setting my coffee down, I then calmly asked him if he cared to try that again. The anger in his eyes quickly turned to fear. He turned his head to look at Timmy, then quietly turned around and walked away, never leaving a dirty machine again. I wasn’t proud of what I did and I surely didn’t like being put in a position that forced me to take such an action. Thank God nothing like that ever happened again.

Facing one of my greatest fears, I finally auditioned for a live, stage production at MIRA Theater, called “A Pocketful of Rainbows.” Just testing the waters, I didn’t read for a particular part. I just wanted to see if I was good enough to make it. Much to my surprise, I was cast in a supporting role. Shortly before opening night, my badly impacted wisdom teeth had to be removed. Bad timing, right? Opening night arrived, my cheeks were still quite swollen, and I made my grand entrance. Things proceeded to get worse as my mind went blank. I couldn’t remember my line. Fortunately, one of the others in the cast, a seasoned actress, tossed me a line and we adlibbed our way back to the script. If not for her, I probably would have had a complete meltdown in front of a sold out house of 200.

Following an ensuing performance, I received a note backstage from a former high school classmate explaining that she had seen me that night and enjoyed my performance. She also said that she wanted to come back to see me but was too embarrassed because I seemed so different than I was in school. At the bottom of the note, she signed it, Charlene. Of course, I was disappointed. Charlene, if you’re still out there…

With a little experience under my belt, I decided to audition again after that run finished. The following production, “White Sheep of the Family,” was about a high society British family of criminals. It was a clever script with slight-of-hand tricks throughout. The title character, the forger and son, decided to go straight. My age naturally dictated I audition for that part. All the actors were expected to audition with a British accent. I stayed around until the end of the final night of auditions, curious to know who was going to be in the cast. As the director announced his choices, I was greatly disappointed that I was not his choice for the White Sheep. I remained however, just out of curiosity. The patriarch character was last to be announced. As the director announced his choice, I heard my name, or did I? Heads turned my way. Was it really my name I heard? Bewildered, I couldn’t believe that I was his choice. After all, barely 21, I was now chosen to play a character who was supposed to be old enough to be my own dad. How in the world was I going to pull that off?

Later, while examining that character more closely, I realized it required the actor to be onstage nearly every moment of the two hour production and having to memorize more lines than everyone else combined. Questioning my ability to do that, I became terrified! To make matters even worse, the actress playing my wife actually was old enough to be my mom and quite intimidating. Looking me straight in the eye, she told me that the success of this production rested squarely on my shoulders. I had to be convincing! Thanks for the encouragement, right? The time had come. Sink or swim! Ultimately accepting the challenge, I was determined to make it work.

During one of the early rehearsals, the director brought in a dialect coach. She was great as I observed her helping everyone but me. Taking it upon myself, I made the first move. Out of character, I asked her what I could do to be more convincing. “You’re not British?” She exclaimed. Well, no. Why would she be asked to come in, if I could do it, right? She truly couldn’t believe that I not only was not British, but had never even visited there. My head was so big after her reaction and praise, I don’t know how it fit through the door to go home.

Dad always tried to discourage me from getting involved with the arts. I figured it was because he had worked in Hollywood and didn’t approve of what went on behind the scenes. Unbeknownst to me, he and Mom attended opening night. It was Dad however who ended up attending every performance during the five or six week run, including a double performance on one Saturday. In a very rare moment, he was unable to hide his excitement as he admitted that he couldn’t get over listening to everyone guessing who they thought was really British. Every comment he heard about me was that they believed I was the only one who was really British.

As far back as I can remember, I had always been intrigued by the British accent. In my teen years, influenced by the Beatles, I tried to pick it up and worked on it often. Evidently, it paid off. When the four-production season concluded, the Guild announced their nominations for best performances. My name came up twice. I had not only been nominated for best supporting male in the first play, but the best lead male for the second, not winning either, however. Satisfied with what I had accomplished, overcoming my stage fright and memorizing all those lines, I decided that there were more important things in my life now. I had become a new dad during that time and that’s where my focus should be.

No longer the thespian, I realized a void. The Jim Fixx Revolution caught my interest. Never a runner, I knew that this too would be a challenge. I did pretty good however, and found myself enjoying the long distance running so much that I entered some 5K runs before someone at work convinced me to run the Napa Marathon.

Little Ted had brought us so much joy over his first two years, we decided the risk we were warned of was worth trying for another baby. Nearly three years after Little Ted came into our lives, Josh made us a family of four. This time the hospital staff didn’t need to induce labor and delivery went much easier than the first.

It was during my training for my first marathon that I developed painful shin splints, leading to my decision to give up running. Feeling a need to find an alternative fitness program, I decided on body building. After all, Steve “Hercules” Reeves had been a childhood inspiration and more recently, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Franco Colombo had become the frontmen for body building. Purchasing their books, I started working out in my garage, limited by the small 110 pound weight set I had purchased before joining a gym and eventually attending body building competitions. Delving deeper into the sport, I learned as much as I could about nutrition and kinesiology. This was also something I could do and hopefully lead by example where our boys were concerned, hoping they would see the benefits of proper health and fitness early on.

Wanting Little Ted to have what I never did, I asked him if he would like to try out for Little League as soon as he was old enough. He was bigger than most other kids his age and the coaches chose him to be the catcher. Coming home after that particular practice, he expressed his disappointment. As he explained it, they always put the worst player behind the plate. Attempting to put a positive spin on it, I explained to him that the catcher had to be the best player. The catcher, I explained, is the only player on the field that can see all of his teammates at the same time and each play of the game begins with him, not to mention, he is involved in every play. He returned to the next practice with renewed determination. With a natural talent, he completely immersed himself in that position and by the time he graduated from high school, he was ranked number 3 in Northern California and was being scouted by numerous MLB teams. It took everything I had to contain my feelings as I was a very proud dad. I could not have been more proud of him. He accomplished everything I didn’t in high school, both academically and on the field.

His brother, Josh wanted a piece of that as well. Before he was old enough to play T-ball, like me, he was playing ball in the street with the other kids. During his early days, he came running into the house crying because they wouldn’t let him be “the squatter.” Thinking a moment, I realized he meant catcher, rather than squatter. I calmed him down by telling him that there would be many more opportunities to be the catcher when he starts playing Little League if that’s the position he still wanted to play, before giving him a popsicle and sending him back outside to play. He excelled in baseball and youth football. As a PeeWee football player, he was a running back with the speed that his older brother lacked. His team’s starting quarterback got injured right after their first game. Josh then tried out for that position, became their starting quarterback, and ultimately took them to the state championship. A dad on one of the other teams told me that everyone knew who Josh was and they all understood him to be the biggest threat on the field. He was beyond his years it seemed as a team leader. He could read a defense upon walking up to the line from the huddle and could change plays with audibles when he thought it was necessary. That dad also mentioned that his team was told not to flush him out of the pocket because of his speed and agility. Football was where Josh made his mark.

While he was better at football, Josh’s claim to fame came on the high school baseball team when he was the only player on his team to get a hit against the high school phenom, CC Sabathia, the same one that went on to pitch for the New York Yankees.

Watching my boys perform so well on the field back then were the best days of my life. I miss that to this very day!

Continuing my bodybuilding program, I had made some notable gains. I loved working out with weights and the way it made me feel, not just physically but emotionally as well. My workouts had gotten so intense that while I was working out, it felt like my skin was splitting. Not a painful experience at all, it did become somewhat addicting. After years of training, my strength had increased to the point that I was doing dumbbell bicep curls with 110 pound dumbbells in each hand and my maximum bench press was 525 pounds. I didn’t know it then, but years later I learned that Arnold’s best bench press was 500 pounds.

I had serious thoughts of becoming a professional bodybuilder and decided to enter the competition arena. Not long after, while sweeping the floor in my office, I sneezed while bent over, sweeping the dust into a dustpan. An MRI revealed three herniated discs in my lower back and a subluxation of my spine – a debilitating injury that not only ended my bodybuilding days, but eventually forced me out of the machinist trade. As a result, I was bedridden for three months, waiting for the Department of Labor to approve the necessary surgery to get me back on my feet. Because of that lengthy delay, I ended up with permanent nerve damage to my leg and developed foot drop as a result. While recovering after my surgery, I returned to work on light duty until the news was announced that Mare Island Naval Shipyard was slated for closure.

More To Come

SUBSCRIPTIONS ARE FREE

SUBSCRIBE AND NEVER MISS A POST