Turtle Rock

Jeanette and I spent a lot of time getting to know each other after our first trip to Virginia. We probably should have purchased stock in the airlines. We even met in Denver for her following birthday where we had a beautiful dinner together at The Fort, a historic, a full scale replica of an adobe fur-trading fort. The only drawback was that she was miserable from a sinus infection she had contracted just prior to leaving Virginia.

The following Christmas, Jeanette brought our sisters out to California, none of whom had ever been to California before. All but the youngest sister, Susan, who actually had been to California before, but couldn’t get time off from work thuu it s time. The Redwoods were at the top of their list for sites to eee. We spent an entire day there. Cheryl and I grew closer, but it was during this visit that Darlene and I really seemed to connect. I often wondered if that was when Big C had a change of heart about Jeanette and myself. For some reason unknown to us, he would not talk to us again and forbade Darlene from having any contact with Jeanette, and me after that. He even disowned Jeanette’s children whom he had always been close to since childhood.

One evening, Lou and Carol came over to the house and he made fish tacos for us all cooking the catfish that he had caught at Lake Pardee, their home away from home.

Fish tacos was something new to the sisters and Lou, being the exceptional cook that he was, made them to perfection. While he did the cooking in the kitchen, the rest of us were in the family room looking through photo albums. Cheryl, however, remained in the kitchen watching Lou fry the fish. He got a kick out of her sneaking an occasional piece of fish while she thought he wasn’t looking. Lou, Carol, Pam and I had many laughs over that for years to come. He genuinely enjoyed them. My one regret was that my parents never had the chance to meet them. Loving kids as they did, they would have loved all my sisters, I’m sure.

Their return flight was canceled due to weather conditions back home. Thd raft coast was getting pounded with a big snow storm that closed down Dulles Airport. Sister Cheryl was pretty upset, not knowing if she was going to be back home in time to celebrate Christmas with Pic, her husband. Jeanette did however manage to find a flight and get them all back home in time for Christmas.

Pam and I ended up spending every spring in Virginia after that first visit. Jeanette’s basement became our home away from home. Her husband and his brother, Big C remodeled the basement bathroom to make it “Pam’s” bathroom. By the way, I suppose this is as good a time as any to explain the unusual relationship between Jeanette, Mike, Darlene, and her husband, Big C. Of course, you already know that Jeanette and Darlene are sisters, but I haven’t yet told you that, Darlene’s husband, Big C, was Mike’s brother. Yes, brothers married sisters. I’ve always been curious what the DNA between all their children looks like. After all, if the lab was confused over the three degrees of separation between Jeanette and Haywood and mistakenly alleged that they were father and daughter, what about cousins who were the children of two brothers that married two sisters? Would the DNA of all those cousins look like they were all siblings? Just a little food for thought. Thank goodness it was a different lab that processed the DNA samples between Jeanette and myself.

After only two years, Sugarloaf’s health took a turn for the worse. Jeanette called me to let me know she was in the hospital and wasn’t expected to live. Immediately, I made arrangements to fly back. About a week after I arrived, Sugarloaf passed. It happened while Jeanette and I had stepped out to get some lunch. Susan and Cheryl were at her side. Noticing a preacher friend in the hallway, Cheryl invited him in to say a prayer for her. She took her last breath at the end of that prayer. Sugarloaf’s body was cremated and a service was held for her at Darlene’s church. In an attempt to ease the tension that had risen between Big C and Jeanette, she asked him if they could put their differences behind them. He coldly said no, turned and walked away. The following day, a dear friend came down from DC to take part in a private ceremony we held on the mountain and ceremoniously spread Sugarloaf’s ashes near the cabin.

During our vacations in Virginia the first couple years, we always had a weekend family reunion on the mountain, in the cabin where I was born. Not longer after Sugarloaf’s passing, Pam and I decided noticed a log cabin for sale close to the mountain cabin. We decided to look into buying it for a vacation home. Unfortunately, we couldn’t find anything out about it. As we both began to close in on 60 years of age, Pam brought up the subject of buying a place near Jeanette and my other sisters that we could not only use as a vacation home but retire to. I couldn’t believe that she brought that up. Not once did I ever expect her to leave her family again. We kept it to ourselves as long as we could. Then during the following spring trip to Virginia, we announced it to everyone there, further explaining that we didn’t want Pam’s family to know yet. They were so good about it, all of them began looking for a property we might like.

Pam discovered a five acre, wooded lot online less than 10 minutes from Jeanette’s house. The shape of the lot was triangular and ideal as far as we were concerned. A spring that ran through the middle of the property made it the ideal location for us both. We kept an eye on it until we went out there the following spring. We got a real estate agent who showed us the property. After walking the property, we submitted an offer. The agent called us back later that afternoon to let us know that the owner had accepted a cash offer earlier that very day. We were devastated. Deciding that it wasn’t meant to be ours, we continued looking, finding a property the day before we were scheduled to go back home. Pam set up an appointment with the realtor. We all met at the location to discover that there were not just one, but two separate lots available there. Unfortunately, the listing agent wasn’t there and no one knew which was the lot we saw listed. When we finally figured it out, we submitted an offer only to realize the same fate as the first property.

We ended up going back to California without having purchased a property so Pam kept watching the listings online. Near the end of October, Pam noticed that the first property we bid on, the one we liked the most, was back on the market. We decided to fly back immediately and pay the asking price no matter what it was. The trick was to do it without Pam’s family knowing we were gone. Since it was right around Jeanette’s birthday, we could use that as an excuse for our absence if they found out we were in fact gone. When we got back to California, a few days later, we were the proud owners of five wooded acres with a spring that ran right down the middle of the property. It was the first property we looked at and by far the best of all the lots we saw. It remained a secret for a couple years before we announced it to Pam’s family.

Josh, his wife and daughters had moved to Montana. LT and Diana had bought a house less than a mile from ours and were doing well. Madison would soon be graduating from high school. Pam and I decided to take her with us for our vacation in Virginia following her graduation. In their nineties, Pam’s parents were still in good health and living independently in Vacaville so I expected Pam to wait until they were both gone before we moved.

Inga Jo, the daughter of one of my dad’s shipmates had come back into my life via Facebook. She lived only a couple hours from Jeanette and one day we arranged to take her and her husband to the cabin where I was born. After showing it to her, we proceeded to the main cabin on the mountain top. As we arrived, a woman and her college aged son were preparing to leave after having spent a few days there. We introduced ourselves and talked briefly when the young man asked if we had heard the story about the baby that was born in the cabin and given away. Jeanette and I looked at one another before I looked back to him and said, “I am that baby.”

The look on his face was priceless! Apparently, the story of Sugarloaf giving away her baby boy had been passed down from generation to generation and captured many imagination. The young man could hardly contain himself as he said to me, “we gotta talk!” We were invited in and we told them our story. We enjoyed our visit and it was then that I learned that our story had to be written.

Some time later, while Jeanette was cleaning house, she experienced a pulling sensation that caused her to fall to her left side. Hitting her head, she fell unconscious to the floor. Regaining consciousness, she asked Mike to take her to the ER but he refused so she called her daughter, Pam to take her. Subsequent tests revealed a lesion on her brain the size of a golf ball directly behind her left eye. After surgery was scheduled, I immediately flew back.

Once in surgery, they discovered the tumor was wrapped around a major vein that supplied blood to her eye. Additional surgeons were called in. They all agreed that attempting to remove all of it was too risky and could result in the loss of vision in her left eye. Deciding to leave 50% of the tumor, they would treat the remaining portion with radiation afterward. I remained with her in the hospital until she was released. While driving her home, she told me to turn into the parking lot of the local bakery. Unbeknownst to me, she had ordered a personalized birthday cake for my upcoming 60th birthday. Pam flew in from California and gifted me a limited edition vintage John Lennon Epiphone electric accoustic guitar, a sunburst replica of the one he used to record with. I was quite surprised by that while not happy that Jeanette was overdoing herself before she even got home.

During yet another visit, while Jeanette and I had been out and about, she impulsively told me to turn into the next driveway right off the highway we were on. Much to my surprise, she decided to show up unannounced to Charlie Powell’s house to ask him for a DNA sample. Driving up the driveway, I parked the car in front of the large country house. Walking up the steps together, she knocked on the door. I had never done anything like this. Not knowing what to expect, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had thrown us out on our rear ends. A woman, possibly in her sixties, answered the door. Jeanette introduced herself and said, “I’m about to ask you something that you’ve probably never been asked before.” She then told Jeanette that she should try and we’ll see where we go from there. Shaking my head, I was bewildered by what was unfolding before my very eyes. Jeanette explained that she thought she was related to her husband and that she was hoping that he would do a DNA test with her. The woman then opened the door wider and invited us in.

“Have a seat.” she said, “I’ll get my husband.” A few moments later, she returned alone. This isn’t going well, I began thinking to myself. Her husband then emerged in a wheelchair, missing half of his right leg.

Jeanette proceeded to explain that she had talked to his brothers on a couple occasions and a sister about doing a DNA test but was ultimately denied. Much to my surprise, he said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with them, but I’ll be more than happy to help you out.” He even offered to give us a DNA sample right there and then. He also said that if there was anything else he could help with, just let him know, “even if it was blood.” We ended up staying a short while longer and talking. To make a long story short, the test results proved that he was our paternal half brother, meaning that Doctor Powell is our biological father.

During yet another visit with Charlie and his wife, he asked if I knew where Shingle Springs was. Quite surprised, I said I had been there numerous times. Turns out, that’s where his wife was from. Of course, I had to ask how the two of them got together being from opposite ends of the country. He explained that he was in the navy when they met. I interjected that he was no doubt stationed at Mare Island Naval Shipyard. He asked if I knew the place. In complete disbelief by now, I told him that I grew up in Vallejo and worked on the shipyard for 20 years. When he said he was stationed there during the late 60s and early 70s, things were beginning to take on a life of their own. Those were my high school years and when I worked at McDonald’s. He then said he used to go to McDonald’s nearly every day. There was no doubt in my mind that our paths had crossed back then.

More to come

Jeanette and Pam soon found themselves living with Sugarloaf and family again. Jeanette and Sugarloaf were working at a truck stop together while CB was still working as a printer for the Washington Post, living in the DC area during the week and commuting home on the weekends.

One Saturday morning, while bouncing Pam on his leg, she said, “Grammie Sugarloaf slept with Josh last night.” Josh as it turned out, was a man that Sugarloaf met at the truck stop.

The cheerful mood suddenly changed as CB called Sugarloaf into the room. He then proceeded to direct Pam to tell Sugarloaf what she had just told him. Head bowed and now fidgety, she didn’t want to say anything at all. CB assured her that she wasn’t in trouble and it was okay to repeat what she had just said. Keeping her face down, she said it again. CB then put her down, walked to the bedroom, packed his clothes and left. Walking to the bus station, he boarded the bus to Washington DC, where he resigned his job and went to Beckly, West Virginia where he lived with his brother and his wife while working odd jobs, washing dishes, cleaning toilets and the like.

Jeanette and Pam got an apartment of their own and Sugarloaf and Josh started seeing each other on a regular basis. When Sugarloaf and Josh went to visit Ohmer and Granny, Josh immediately witnessed Ohmer mistreating one of his mules. Josh yelled down at him asking if he’d like to try that on him. Ohmer said, “if you think you’re man enough, come on down.” CB charged down the hill to settle the score. Ohmer reared back and knocked him out cold in his own tracks. As it turned out, Josh didn’t make much of an impression that day. As a matter of fact, Josh never did make much of an impression on any of them after that day. Cheryl and Susan, young teenagers by this time, especially didn’t like him and for good reason. He was very abusive and they wouldn’t sleep at night without a bat or a broken bottle nearby, anything to protect themselves from him. When he attempted to assault Cheryl, she knocked him down and threatened to tell her mother. “Go ahead. She won’t believe you,” he told her.

When she did tell Sugarloaf, she called her a “damn liar.” After calling Darlene, Cheryl then moved in with her and her husband.

Things continued to deteriorate between Josh and Sugarloaf until one evening in the hallway, he pointed a pistol at her, discharged it and the bullet narrowly missed her. She called the police and had him arrested. As they took him away, she yelled out that she was going to have him committed. Shouting back, he said that no one would ever do that to him and that he would kill himself first. He was subsequently released on bail only to be found dead of asphyxiation after missing his subsequent court hearing.

Jeanette had remarried after dating a man that she knew since she lived with Bullpuncher and his wife. She had fallen in love with the way he affectionately treated Pam, as if she was his own daughter. They married and later, when Jeanette told him that she was pregnant, he wasn’t a bit pleased. He didn’t want children of his own. Their relationship changed from that moment on. He became physically abusive towards Jeanette and it continued for years. He and Jeanette had a second child together and the abuse escalated. She eventually left Mike and after a couple months he begged her to come back, promising to change his ways and even attend church with her. The physical abuse was only replaced by his emotional abuse and he never kept his word about going to church with her.

Thinking about her half brother again, she decided to hire a private investigator. After ending his investigation, he couldn’t tell her any more than she already knew. Then while at the county fair, she decided to see a psychic there. She learned a couple things but only enough to later seak the help of yet another psychic. While reading Jeanette’s palm she declared, “I see you have a brother, but then you don’t have a brother. Does that make sense to you,” she asked. Acknowledging that it did, she continued to inform her that he was still alive, “living in one of the C-states.”

Encouraged by what she had learned, she contacted the woman who she thought had set up the exchange at the bottom of the mountain. She told Jeanette that it wasn’t her, but it was her older sister, Dot, she was looking for.

Now living in Michigan, Dot told her that she didn’t remember much about the couple, believing that their name was Hawkins, Hopkins, or Haskins, “something like that,” she said. Unfortunately, the one who would know was her brother, but unfortunately, he was no longer living. Making headway now, Jeanette grew even more determined. Her next step was to pay her mother another visit and ask her again. A tough cookie, she had always denied it in the past.

Driving to Sugarloaf’s apartment, Jeanette found her cooking in her kitchenette. She nervously asked her if it was true that she adopted her brother out. Sugarloaf stood silently, unsure how to respond. The ice had finally been broken. Jeanette then said, “don’t stand there and deny it because Granny told me and I know she would never lie to me.”

Suddenly Sugarloaf roared back, “Hell yeah I adopted him out and if I had it to do all over again, I would have adopted every damn one of you out! And if you don’t get the hell out of my kitchen, I’ll throw this damn boiling water right in your face!” Jeanette now had heard what she had waited for years to hear from her mother. Maybe more than she wanted to hear. She left before she could find out whether or not Sugarloaf meant what she said.

Jeanette and Sugarloaf were both working in the same manufacturing plant when someone told Jeanette that her mom was in urgent need of her help. Emotionally upset, Sugarloaf asked Jeanette to take her home. Once in the car she told Jeanette that sometimes she felt like she was losing her mind adding that she had done a number of things that she wasn’t proud of.

Assuring her that no matter what she may have done, Jeanette believed that she did what was best at the time and she could talk to her about anything without fear of being judged. Moments later, Sugarloaf dropped a bombshell, admitting that she had had a baby boy and ended its life as soon as it was born, placed it in a plastic bag before throwing it into a dumpster. Sugarloaf had said some pretty cruel things throughout her life, but this was even darker than Jeanette ever expected to hear from her. When she got her home, she stayed with her until she had calmed down and felt sure that she would be safe after she left.

Deception was always in her black bag of tricks. No one really knows if it really happened or if it was a figment of her wild imagination. I suppose it was possible that she had made it all up to throw Jeanette off the trail in hopes she might give up her desire to find her half brother. Maybe Sugarloaf experienced feelings of guilt after giving me away. Is it possible that she always wondered what ever became of her baby that she decided it best to destroy this one and have that closure? Unfortunately, we can only speculate now. However, Jeanette believes that her mother was always so cold that she never gave me a second thought over all those years.

Learning of Alice’s passing, a neighbor on the mountain and close friend of the family, Jeanette attended her funeral service. That is where she first met Alice’s brother, Haywood. As they talked, she asked him if he knew anything about her half-brother. “I didn’t even know you had a brother,” he replied. He did, however, say that he knew the date she was born, taking her completely by surprise. When she asked him how he knew, he told her about the letter he received from Sugarloaf when he was in Korea. He had always believed that he was Jeanette’s father and he even told her that he could tell her the the details of when it happened. Intrigued as she was, that part was more than she wanted to know.

When Jeanette told me that she felt a popping sensation in her lower back one day at work, it resulted in two herniated discs that required surgery to correct it. I was now satisfied that my doctor’s explanation of my identical injury was genetic. I wish my mom and dad were alive to hear that.

Receiving news of the passing of Doctor Powell, Jeanette asked his older son if she could have a sample of his dad’s DNA so she would know for certain whether or not he was her biological father. He asked her to put her request in writing, providing the reason she wanted it and bring it to him in his office the following morning. She did as he asked, but he denied her request. Before leaving, she told him that he only need look at her to know that she was his kin.

Knowing the people at the funeral home, she asked them if they would give her a few moments alone with the body so that she might get a sampling of his hair for a DNA test. She was allowed in the room with him behind locked doors. Standing over his body, a feeling of guilt came over her, preventing her from doing it.

One evening at work, a man told Jeanette that she looked exactly like his wife. She asked him what his wife’s name was and he said Bunny. Jeanette replied, “Oh no! Not another one.” Bunny was Doctor Powell’s daughter and there was a strong resemblance between them.

Jeanette knew Bunny and she later asked her if she would do a DNA test with her. Apparently Bunny didn’t express a problem with it and told her that she would let her know the following morning. The following morning came and went. Bunny remained elusive over the following few weeks. Jeanette repeatedly called her on the phone. After a number of failed attempts, she learned that Bunny had decided not to do it. Jeanette suspected that she had talked with her older brother who recommended against it. Apparently, there had been other illegitimate children who had done DNA with family members who had taken part of the Powell estate as a result. Jeanette assured them that she wanted nothing more than peace of mind but she was ultimately denied.

After Haywood continued to insist that he was Jeanette’s biological father, she decided to do a DNA test with him. When the results came back positive, they shared the news with the rest of the family, some of whom adamantly denied the results even though Darlene, a registered nurse, tried to explain the science behind it.

After decades of searching for her half brother without knowing his name, Jeanette received an envelope from Dot. Inside it was a copy of a fifty-year-old Christmas card. Accompanying the card was a baby picture with the date and name, Teddy, written on the back and signed by Bobbie and Les Haskins. A hand-written note simply said, “Found this in the attic yesterday. These are the names you’ve been looking for.” The postmark on the original envelope, was from Orange. The state of origin, however, was illegible.

Surmising that the psychic’s “C-state” must be California, a newly energized Jeanette called the telephone operator in Orange, California and asked if she could have the phone numbers of all the Haskins in the area. Overwhelmed by the quantity of Haskins’ in that area, the telephone operator told her that she would have to charge her for them. Feeling like she must have hit the lottery, Jeanette proceeded to tell the operator her story. So touched by it, she gave Jeanette all the telephone numbers without charge.

Calling the first two phone numbers on her list, Jeanette got no response. The third one stirred a cranky old man whom Jeanette told that she was looking for an adopted Haskins. Snapping back he said that he was one of fifteen siblings and not one of them was adopted before slamming the phone down on her. As soon as Jeanette told me that story, I knew exactly who it was. I remembered my dad’s brother, Sam, telling him about such a phone call and that sounded exactly like something he would have said and done.

Jeanette ordered personalized license plates for her car that read “LKG4TDY.” A curious observer stopped her in a parking lot after noticing them and asked if her plates meant “Looking For Today.” Understandably, I don’t know if I would have reacted much differently if I had seen them myself.

Jeanette’s son, David told her about a private investigator that he knew and trusted, assuring her that he would do right by her as he was very honest and trustworthy. Still a bit skeptic after feeling ripped off by the first investigator, she did, nevertheless, call him and invite him to the house.

With her husband Mike, Jeanette sat with Mr. Tonker in the living room talking it over. He told Jeanette that he didn’t know if he could find her brother, but she could be sure that he would try his best and wouldn’t charge her an exorbitant amount of money and would only work on it when time allowed. Mike didn’t like the idea, explaining that he had seen her crying too many nights and being taken advantage of by others who just wanted her money. When Mr. Tonker said he wouldn’t do it unless they both agreed, Jeanette assured him that she would be paying him with her own money so Mike had no voice in that decision. Mr. Tonker told her what he would do and he would keep her posted on his progress, only asking for more money when it was needed. That’s when she asked if he would accept payment in rolled quarters she had saved. That’s when it occured to me that maybe that’s why he told me that he didn’t think she had much money. Shrugging his shoulders, he said that they will spend just as well as anything else. He called her from time to time over the following months, giving her updates. It wasn’t until nearly one year later, on Christmas Eve day, he called Jeanette to tell her he believed he had found her brother but needed a little more time to make sure.

More to come

Whenever Ohmer started drinking, Granny made the girls sleep with their clothes on and shoes next to the bed in case they had to get up in the middle of the night and run out of the house during a drunken rage. Well liked by everyone outside of the family, no one had any idea how abusive he was to family members and even his own work animals.

When one of his mules wouldn’t obey him, Ohmer picked up a pitch fork and hurled it at its hind quarters. The mule then reared up and kicked him clear across the barn where he landed in unconscious. Jeanette ran into the house to tell Granny. She was unphased and told Jeanette that he would be okay. When Ohmer regained consciousness, he walked that mule over the hill, away from the house where he shot and killed it.

During a casual conversation with one of their neighbors, Jeanette learned that Gordon wasn’t her biological father. The neighbor told Jeanette that her mother didn’t know him long enough for him to be her dad. “Do the math,” she said.

Jeanette once again began thinking about her younger, half brother that Sugarloaf gave away. She has continued looking for him wherever she went. Not knowing his name, she could only look for a boy with familial features to no avail thus far. Everyone in her family continued denying knowing anything about such an incident. She continues wondering about his welfare and whether or not he needed her. Jeanette was always the one who took care of her younger sisters. Dinah and Darlene were only one year apart. They had each other. Because Jeanette was so much older than they were, she felt like she had no one for herself. Her half brother could fill that void if only she could find him.

Entering high school, Jeanette realized a natural talent for basketball and wanted to play on the school team. Knowing that Ohmer would never allow that, she moved in with Uncle Bullpuncher and his wife. That arrangement unexpectedly caused some friction between Bullpuncher and his wife when Jeanette decided it best to leave. With just enough money for bus fare to DC and her few clothes in a grocery bag, she was on her way to her mom’s house. A taxi drove her from the bus station to Sugarloaf’s apartment where she asked the driver to wait while she got the money from her mom to pay him. Sugarloaf was quite surprised and none too happy to see Jeanette at her front door and proceeded to complain about the cost of the taxi, saying “he must have driven you all around town before bringing you here!”

She constantly mocked Jeanette in front of Cheryl and Susan, her two daughters by her current husband, CB. One evening while going to bed, by habit, Jeanette said, “don’t forget to cut the oil lamp off before you go to bed,” just as she did back in the holler. The apartment was small, and Jeanette felt like a bull in a closet as Sugarloaf constantly criticized her for being clumsy. It was tight quarters for five people, soon to be seven.

CB knew nothing about Jeanette, Dinah, and Darlene before her arrival. When Sugarloaf had to spend a night or two in the hospital, he asked Jeanette how her two other sisters were living. She proceeded to tell him that they didn’t have running water or electricity and had to work whenever they weren’t in school. Leaning forward in his chair, CB buried his face in his hands and cried, promising her that they would all soon be united following Sugarloaf’s return from the hospital.

CB ordered Sugarloaf to find a bigger place for them to live and bring Dinah and Darlene home. After they were all united, Sugarloaf set up a date for Jeanette with a man she had known. She informed Jeanette about it only moments before his scheduled arrival. Jeanette wasn’t a bit happy about such short notice and she was even more upset when she opened the door to a short, much older man who she didn’t think was the least bit attractive. Immediately closing the door on him, Jeanette ran to her room. Suagarloaf, not far behind, told her that he was a “man with money and you will go out with him and you will be good to him!”

Knowing exactly what that meant, Jeanette was determined not to cross that line regardless of her mother’s demand. When she returned later that evening, Sugarloaf told her that he was going to ask her to marry him and she was to “accept his proposal or else.” Jeanette knew exactly what “or else” meant and she didn’t like where this was going, but she knew there was little if anything she could do about it. It was crystal clear that her mother wanted nothing to do with her. Only 16 and feeling hopeless, she decided that she would marry him just long enough to get out on her own then divorce him.

He took her to a party where all his colleagues and friends were in attendance. Mixed drinks were flowing freely and there was a peculiar odor in the smoke filled rooms. As soon as they walked in, everyone began offering her drinks and other things that he wouldn’t allow her to accept. Once again, she felt very out of place and they didn’t stay long. As they walked together on the downtown sidewalk, she was struck by all the storefronts with Christmas decorations in the windows unlike anything she had ever seen back home.

Their dates always lasted throughout the weekends and he always remained a gentleman. The only rule that Sugarloaf held them to was that she be home in time to go to school Monday morning.

Jeanette took her fiancé up to the holler to meet Granny. On the trail, they came across Ohmer, passed out and mumbling profanities. Embarrassed, with no place to hide, she tried just ignoring him as they continued their journey to the house. Upon arriving, Jeanette told Granny about Ohmer and she said that he’ll be home when he’s back up and around.

Not long after they had been married, Jeanette doctor informed her that the rabbit died following an examination. Still so innocent, she asked him what that meant. Learning that she was now pregnant, she thought to herself that she had just escaped a very controlling mother only to learn she now was pregnant, compounding her troubles. When she told her husband the news, he expressed his disapproval, explaining he never wanted children.

Her husband owned his own business and spent much of his time away from home, occasionally out of town. He often attended work-related conventions while Jeanette stayed home. Sometimes, he would call her when the convention was over to tell her that he was going to stay an additional week before coming home. Even though this sort of thing happened rather frequently, Jeanette never suspected anything was wrong.

Not long after Jeanette had her baby, she received a phone call in which an anonymous voice told her that the problem with her marriage was her husband’s secretary, identifying her by name. When she asked who was on the phone, the connection was lost. Confronting her husband when he came home, he explained it by telling her that when everything is going well between a couple, there’s always someone trying to break it up, assuring Jeanette that there was nothing more to it.

When Sugarloaf invited Jeanette to a dance, she was excited to get out of the house. Arriving with her at the club, Sugarloaf introduced her to a couple of men that she had obviously prearranged for the evening. Jeanette was not happy about the arrangement and never got up from the table after initially sitting down. When they returned home, Jeanette told her husband what had happened and he just laughed it off, upsetting Jeanette even more.

When Jeanette decided to take Pam out for a walk in the stroller, she dropped in on her husband unexpectinlgly. Opening the door to his office, there was his secretary sitting on his desk in a short dress taking dictation. Jeanette immediately turned around and stormed away, marking the beginning of the end between them.

Not long after he came home from work, he told Jeanette that he was leaving, went directly to their bedroom and began packing. When she asked him when he was going to be back, he explained that he wasn’t coming back. Not wanting to be left behind without transportation, she asked him to take her and Pam to Granny’s. Jeanette gathered some things together for Pam and herself, before the three of them were on their way back to the mountain. He dropped them off where she used to get dropped off by the school bus and walked the rest of the way carrying Pam and a suitcase.

More to come

Boy! Did this guy have the wrong number, or what? This is a joke, right? Oddly enough, all those earlier premonitions never even entered my mind. I was curious however, as to how he thought I could possibly be the guy he was looking for.

He told me that he knew I was born in Madison, Virginia immediately reinforcing my belief that he was on the wrong track. He continued by telling me that his client, Jeanette Meade, was raised with two younger sisters by their grandparents. Why he told me that he believed she didn’t have much money, I still don’t understand. I would later learn however, that she had paid him all in quarters she had saved which may have been the basis for his conclusion, but why he mentioned that while trying to make his case, makes no sense to me.

His confusion over two much younger sisters that he knew very little about and that he wasn’t even sure how they fit into the picture wasn’t very reassuring. I nonetheless, was sure that he was wasting his time on me and I told him so just before he asked if he could call me back. I felt like the cowboys who had circled their wagons and just finished the first wave of Indian attacks. Moments after hanging up the phone, I was unexplainably shaken and every bit as confused. Close to closing time, I decided to close early, hoping to work this out and make sense of it all. I certainly was in no frame of mind at that point to be productive!

Could my dad have had an extramarital relationship of which I was the product? In their desperation to have a child, did they seek a surrogate? No matter what scenario I could come up with, there was always the birth certificate that clearly stated I was born in Albemarle County, not Madison, Virginia, to the parents who raised me. That fact alone was hard to dispute. Now a complete stranger calls to tell me that my entire life of 55 years was a lie? I needed more than the confusing story he was trying to convince me was the reality. In fact, something deep within was telling me I wanted more so I could have the siblings I always yearned for even though consciously, I was in denial.

Arriving home and pouring myself a glass of wine, I placed a second glass on the table for Pam. She didn’t drink, but I thought if ever there might be a time, this was it. Still nursing my first glass when she arrived home from work, I offered one to her. Not expecting her to accept it, I did, however, tell her she might change her mind after hearing what I had to tell her. Without hesitation, she asked if the dog had died. Becoming emotional and with considerable difficulty, I shared with her all about the phone call. I don’t recall that she said much, if anything. I then suggested we consult with her parents to get their input. They could certainly look at it without all the emotions that I was consumed with. A few minutes after calling them, we were on our way to their house, a short drive, only about one mile away.

Sitting in Lou and Carol’s family room, each of us, except Pam, of course, with a glass of wine in hand. Breaking the ice, Pam told them that I had something to tell them. Silence blanketed the room as they all turned their attention to me. I was suddenly struck with that feeling of helplessness once again. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get a word out. Noticing my struggle, Pam asked if she could tell them. Nodding my head, I couldn’t even manage a simple yes. Lou’s initial reaction was that it was a scam. Carol, however, a very proficient genealogist, rushed to her computer to see what she could learn about Jeanette Meade. She found two people with that name and as it turned out, neither of them was the one she was looking for. All four of us were now at whits end. I had known Lou and Carol since I was twelve years old, so they knew me quite well. They also knew my parents. A scam was the only logical explanation we could come up with.

Meanwhile, on the east coast, Mr. Tonker contacted his client on Christmas Eve day. Informing her that he believed he had found her brother, he also needed a little more time to make sure. Later that evening, Dinah, the eldest of the younger sisters, stopped by Jeanette’s house where Jeanette told her that next Christmas was going to be a lot better. Without further explanation, Dinah just thought Jeanette might be coming into some money, maybe winning the lottery or something.

Mr. Tonker and I spoke two more times over the following weeks to no avail. At the end of the second call, he assured me that if I would just let his client call me, she could explain it so much better than he had. Reluctantly agreeing, I thought that I was once and for all going to put an end to this nonsense. More than a month passed without a follow up phone call, reinforcing my skepticism. Then late one afternoon, the phone in my office rang. Again, I noticed that it was a long distance call. Taking a deep breath, I picked it up and said hello.

The voice on the other end was that of a polite and very apologetic woman with a southern dialect. Confessing that she just couldn’t imagine what I must have been going through all this time, she also let me know that the time allotted for her phone call was limited as she was calling from work, in her supervisor’s office, with her blessings of course. She then began explaining how it all began. Began indeed! Her baby brother, she said, was born in a mountain home in Madison, Virginia. Two weeks later, he was carried down the mountain by our mother, where I was handed through the window of a car to the parents who raised me.

Ah-ha! Finally something I could relate to. Something that no one else knew about me. I had never told anyone that I was born in a car, out in the country. Now, 55 years later, a complete stranger, more than two-thousand miles away, tells me a story that was close to what I knew. Keeping my composure, as difficult as it was, I told her that I had some things to do but I would get back to her as soon as possible. At that point, we exchanged contact information and ended the conversation for the time being.

Later, that evening, I wrote a letter to my Aunt Blanche, the surviving widow of Dad’s brother, Sam. Hoping that she could confirm the story, I asked her to please tell me if there was anything she knew, all the while assuring her that no matter what happens, she will always be my aunt and my cousins will always be my cousins. A couple days later, she called me. I again thanked her and told her how happy I was to hear from her. We talked about the “old days” and how we all had so much fun when we would all get together before she ultimately said, “I guess it’s okay to tell you now.” Absolutely nothing could prepare me for what she was about to say.

Apparently Mom and Dad had sworn all of his 14 siblings and their spouses to secrecy. They were never to let me know that I was not their biological son. Subsequently, all of Dad’s brothers and sisters believed that he had gotten mixed up with another woman, I was the product and Mom and Dad legally adopted me. That was hard to deny as I looked so much like him. Even more remarkable, all my 100 cousins knew the secret as well. She further explained that “the parents” were sitting around talking about it when cousin Roberta, who was a number of years younger than me, entered the room. Everyone stopped talking but not before Roberta had heard enough to know what they were talking about. Much to everyone’s surprise she said, “it’s okay. We all know that Teddy was adopted.” The cat was out of the bag in Southern California, however, miraculously remaining a secret from me for fifty-five years.

Emailing Jeanette, I briefed her on what I had learned. We then talked on the phone to work out the details of having a DNA test performed. Keep in mind, this was before the popularity of DNA testing, so there weren’t many places that did it. Jeanette said she already had a lab all lined up, one that she had used before. Putting the brakes on, I told her that I needed to take the lead on this in order to have complete confidence in the results. Understandingly, she conceded and we each sent our samples to the lab in Canada that I had found. Also included, was a sample from Uncle Sam and Aunt Blanche’s son, Jim in Southern California for a Y-DNA test that would prove whether or not my dad was in fact my biological dad.

A couple weeks passed before I received the initial DNA test results. Opening it immediately, the documents revealed two results. Calling Jeanette, I asked if she was sitting down when she said she was driving and her dad was with her. I told her that she might want to pull over before she heard the news I was about to share. With excitement in her voice, she asked what it said. The half-sibling DNA test confirmed what we both expected. After a long pause, I then told her that there was more. I knew that what I was about to tell her was going to be upsetting. As I told her that the second result proved that she and I were not only half-siblings, but full-siblings. She emphatically exclaimed that it could not be so. I could now hear a second voice, in the background, insisting on knowing what was going on. Explaining to me that the DNA test between her and her dad was positive, therefore, it was physically impossible for her dad to be my biological father because he was a prisoner of war in Korea when I was conceived and born.

More to come

My career at Mare Island Naval Shipyard spanned 18 years, first hiring on as a Machine Tool Opetator and later, promoted to Journeyman Machinist. Sometime afterwards, I was invited to join the nuclear program, manufacturing parts for nuclear reactors on the submarines being overhauled on the shipyard because I still wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer.

Newly hired apprentices received instruction in trade theory and hands-on training in the vestibule before being allowed to gain real shop experience in the production machine shop. Once in the machine shop, there was no one to provide them assistance except the section supervisor and other employees who we busy performing their duties as assigned. That led to problems and inconsistencies in their training. When a position was established to resolve that problem, I saw an opportunity to do something about all the rework that the shop had been plagued with. I applied and was subsequently promoted to Work Leader, providing hands-on training to apprentices in the sometimes stressful environment of production. Not only did that position benefit the apprentices, but it also allowed supervisors more freedom to do their job.

Without ever learning how it happened, I was later encouraged to apply for a position teaching apprentices in the vestibule by the program director, Mr. Pitcher. When I told him that I had no trade theory background, he nevertheless still encouraged me to apply. I didn’t really know Mr. Pitcher prior to that and I suspected that he may have only been trying to get as many applicants in the pool before filling the vacancy with a predetermined applicant. After all, I had seen that happen time and again over the years in the name of upward mobility and I had a bad taste in my mouth for that program, believing that was the origins of a lot of problems in the shop.

Astonishingly, I was the one selected and soon found myself writing curriculums and teaching newly hired apprentices in the vestibule. After completing my innaugural class of apprentices, we were informed that the shipyard was slated for closure. Thus, ending the apprenticeship program. Returning to the machine shop, I continued working as a Work Leader, assisting apprentices and the section supervisor.

To record their progress, each apprentice was required to maintain their own personal daily log. At the end of each week, a journeyman machinist graded and commented on those entries before it became an official document. My greatest achievement as a Work Leader was developing an objective method of grading apprentices while performing in the sometimes chaotic production environment. Too often, I witnessed journeymen machinists signing off those logs, relying on the integrity of the apprentice and not really taking it seriously. Now, they could be graded objectively on their accomplishments by the Work Leader who had personally witnessed the apprentice’s work and more importantly, their achievements. Unfortunately, it came too late to make an impact.

When the section supervisor had to take three months off for surgery, I accepted a temporary appointment to fill the vacancy. After all, as the section Work Leader, I was the best one to step in with the least amount of disruption to the shop. Unfortunately ensuing complications extended his time off well beyond the 90 days he had planned.

Immediately after lunch on Fridays, no one could return to work before cleanup was complete. While in my office, I was bent down, sweeping the dust into the dustpan when I suddenly sneezed and suffered a debilitating on-the-job injury. Unable to stand up without help, I managed to use my desk to pull myself up, then hobble to my car about a quarter mile away, just outside the industrial area. I probably should have gone to the ER, but I drove directly home where I collapsed from the pain as soon as I walked through the door. Eventually making my way to bed, there I stayed for three months until the Department of Labor approved my back surgery.

Returning to work, part-time and on light duty, six months or so later, I continued to draw Workers’ Compensation to make up the pay lost due to my working part-time. Like everyone else in the shop at that time, I was encouraged to participate in the relocation program offered to assist employees in relocating while losing the least amount of time between jobs.

Job fairs were held frequently, on the shipyard to allow employees to attend without taking time off. It was during one of those job fairs that I was offered a supervisor’s position at another shipyard before being abruptly removed from the program. Apparently, employees who were receiving workers compensation benefits were ineligible to participate in the relocation program.

Post shipyard closure, I was placed into a vocational rehabilitation program. Participating in a 30-day testing process in Sacramento, administered by a company subcontracted by the U.S. Department of Labor, it was determined that I was best suited for a career in healthcare. Because of my achievements in television production, I asked if that was a viable option. Much to my surprise and disappointment, I was informed that research revealed there was no future in that field. Fast forward 30 years, I’m still watching television. Television has a broader reach than ever before thanks to cable and internet services. As it expands, so too an increased demand for production. I might also add that the very same company is now a physical therapy provider and is officially “temporarily closed” as of this writing. Nevertheless, I soon found myself enrolled in the Respiratory Therapy program at Napa Valley College, a two year program, that required me to complete a few prerequisite classes at Solano Community College first.

I lost my mom to lung cancer a number of years before and soon after enrolling in the in the RT program, my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer as well. Given only three months to live, I moved in with him in his Vallejo home to care for him while continuing my classes in Napa. Three months became six months. Dad became impatient and began asking me to contact Doctor Kavorkian, however, assisted suicide was not legal in California. I was torn as six months turned into twelve. Dad now required around the clock care as I continued my clssses even though they too had become increasingly demanding. As soon as the third semester started, Dad passed. I lost a significant amount of crucial time at school as we had begun interning in hospitals throughout Northern California while still going to class two or three times a week. Working in hospitals were particularly difficult for me at that time as those situations kept bringing up disturbing memories of my mom suffering with her cancer and now, losing my dad only compounded those issues. Nightmares made me restless, resulting in too much time lost from work and studies. I eventually had to give up the RT program for my own peace of mind, not to mention the safety of those around me in the clinical situations.

Returning to Solano Communty College, I changed my major from Respiratory Therapy to Television Production. The Department of Labor didn’t support my decision which resulted in the termination of my financial assistance. Continuing to pursue a degree in television production on my own dime, I felt confident in my chances to succeed because of my past successes as a volunteer producer. Among them were recognition by the Bay Area Cable Excellence (BACE) Awards for three consecutive years as well as the California State Legislature and the United States Congress.

I loved the creative freedom of shooting, editing, and producing the weekly sports program I had created and developed, called HEROES -youth sports television. Going to school to earn a degree in television production required that I give up my successful TV show, however, I was happy to see many others like it being produced on television following my absence. Television Production was a two year program in which I excelled. I was so far advanced over my classmates that I became the teacher’s assistant in the actual studio classes and practically sailed through those two years.

During my third semester, I began interning at the local Comcast Cable facility where I had previously been a Public Access Producer. At the beginning of my fourth semester, I applied for an internship at KCRA-TV, the Sacramento NBC television affiliate then owned by its founders, the Kelly brothers. Sharing my portfolio during my interview, certainly increased my odds of getting the position. The person interviewing me seemed genuinely interested in my experience and achievements. Then I was told that all the intern positions had already been filled for that semester. My heart sank! There was no measuring my disappointment. This was the best television station in the area and I really wanted that intern spot. Much to my surprise, my ego got a shot of adrenaline when he offered me a job as a news editor. As proud as I was by the offer, I however, thanked him for his time and gathered my things, more determined to stay in school that final semester and earn my AA degree. Before I could get out of my chair, the interviewer said he was so impressed with my work and determination that he was going to see if he could make a place there for me to intern. He immediately got on the phone and with a single internal call and I became the new intern in the commercial production department of the pinnacle of television stations in that market.

Coming from a career where apprentices got paid while they learned, I became an intern in an industry that didn’t pay one to learn. I couldn’t let that deter me. I was learning from the best in the business under the two directors and the tutelage of the departments only Commercial Photographer who also doubled as the lighting technician in the news studio. When we weren’t out on location, shooting television commercials, we were usually in the news studio maintaining the light grid for the broadcast news. Of course there were times that we shot commercials in the adjacent studio from time to time. It couldn’t get any better than that!

Still not smart enough to be a lawyer, I eventually graduated, at the top of my class with honors, I might add – a far cry better than barely graduating high school. I was then hired by KCRA-TV as a Commercial Photographer. That itself was a rare achievement, as most people they tended to hire, were experienced in the business, rarely ever hiring their own interns. Because it was a part-time position, I also bought my own equipment and started my own business, producing videos.

Seven years later, the Kelly brothers sold the TV station to the Hearst-Argyle Media Corporation. They made a number of changes over the following year after which I became one of their victims in a corporate downsizing. I started working my own business full time at that point. As a freelancer, I worked 8 seasons on the Comedy Central Network’s “Battlebots” TV show. Additionally, I produced the Jelly Belly Candy Company’s international marketing videos for 8 years as well as working for a few celebrities and producing corporate videos.

When an opening on the Downtown Vacaville Business Improvement District Board of Directors’ came up, with reservations, I accepted the President’s invitation to fill the position. At the end of that year, I was elected to the Board, eventually serving as Vice President and President over 2 three-year terms before limiting out. Dare I say it? Because I still wasn’t smart enough to be a lawyer.

My most memorable jobs came early in my career. It was in fact while interning at Comcast Cable Company in Vacaville. While at home, I had been online, in a chat room talking with a woman who asked what line of work I was in. I told her I was a video producer and she immediately asked if I would make a video of her husband. In an uh-oh moment, Red flags went up immediately. I was afraid to ask, but I had to know what she had in mind. She said her husband was Mark Lindsay and I wasn’t sure if I heard anything she said after that. It had something to do with needing someone to video his upcoming concert. I thought she was putting me on at first.

Mark Lindsay! Are you kidding me? Geno and I had idolized him when we were teenagers. I would have been nuts to turn that down! The date of the concert was September 6, my birthday. What a birthday that was! I soon found myself in Santa Maria, videotaping Mark Lindsay and the Mighty Band at a local outdoor venue. The only thing that would have made it better was if he had still been with Paul Revere and the Raiders. His was the voice on all their hits during the ’60s and early ’70s. During those years, 1966-1969, they ranked just behind the Beatles and The Rolling Stones in record sales. Mark and his wife, Deb were two of the most amiable people I ever met in show business. Still performing occasionally, he also hosts a weekly radio show called American Revolution in Little Steven’s Underground Garage on SiriusXM.

During the early 2000s while watching the Michael Caine film, The Cider House Rules, it struck me that women spent time in the hospital when having a baby during the ’50s. Why then was my mom, a woman who had a history of problems during prior pregnancies – she even had lost a baby – be traveling so far from home, into the back hills when she could deliver at any time, risking the loss of another baby they both so badly wanted? It made no sense to me, and it became rather troublesome.

Attempting to make sense of it, I ended up dwelling on it for a long time. One thing led to another until I later pondered the possibility that someone may have been looking for me. Someone like a sister, but I knew better than that, even though the now intrinsic feeling had become overbearing at times. Were these the thoughts of a crazy person? I didn’t dare tell anyone what was going on in my head for fear that I might be committed. But the fact remained – something just did not feel right! ESP maybe or was the Lord preparing me for something to come?

A few years passed and those emotions simmered. Then, a few days before Christmas, 2008, I was in my office. Business was usually very good during that time of year, the economy, however, had been pretty bad and business was quite slow when the phone rang, breaking the silence. Caller ID indicated it was long distance. Picking up the receiver, a man identified himself as Wayne Tonker before asking me a series of questions about my parents. After explaining what he knew about my dad, he continued with what he had learned about my mom, Bobbie. Telling me that he was told by a number of others that she was born in Alaska but he couldn’t find any records of a Bobbie or Roberta there. Asking me if I could explain that, I declined, becoming defensive at that point. He then said that he believed that I was the person he was really looking for and that he was a private investigator, hired to find his client’s brother.

More to come

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.

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A few days after returning to Ohio, I learned that an arrest had been made. Upon inquiring at the bank, I was told that the bank would not return my money until there was a conviction. An actual date for his trial had not yet been set, so I obviously wasn’t going to get my money anytime soon. That didn’t sit right with me. After all, it was my hard earned money and I was anxious to pay Mom and Dad Shepherd back. Meeting with the bank president, I fabricated a story about my wife being seriously ill and in need of surgery, making it clear that if anything should happen to her because she couldn’t have it, I would hold him personally responsible. Excusing himself, he returned a few minutes later with a check to cover my losses. I had the cash in hand before leaving that afternoon, and closed my account on my way out. Driving directly to Mom and Dad Shepherd’s house, I paid them back while once again expressing how thankful I was.

We hadn’t been back in Ohio long before Mom starting calling us between 2:00AM and 3:00AM on Sunday mornings. It was always after she had been drinking, just like she did to that schoolboy in the middle of the night years ago. Only now, she was asking if Pam was pregnant yet. I asked her if she knew what time it was. Emphatically, she replied that she didn’t care. She only wanted to know if she was going to be a grandma yet. Of course, it was only between 11:00PM and midnight where she was calling from. By the way, she didn’t stop there. She continued calling every week, at the same time, in the same intoxicated condition for the first year we were married until she ultimately asked if I knew what “that thing” is for. I reminded her that she and Dad waited nine years to have me. I asked her to please be patient and understand that we had been apart for two years and we just weren’t ready for children yet. She once again reminded me that she just wanted to be grandma before concluding that she was going to hang up now so we could “get to work on it.”

One day at work while talking with my friend, Carter, I did the forbidden. I asked him how much he made as a machinist there. He insisted that I wouldn’t believe him if he told me, but I didn’t give up. He finally admitted that he made only $3.00 an hour. You could have knocked me over with a feather! Sadly, I did believe him and from that moment on, I proceeded with eyes wide open. I had been there a little more than two years, didn’t have near the experience he did and I was making just thirty cents an hour less than a highly skilled machinist.

After looking around to get an idea how much other machine shops were paying, I learned that I was working at the lowest paying shop in the area. I was however grateful for the opportunities afforded me there, but I knew that I would never be happy there. Taking my concerns to Harry, I asked him for a raise. He then informed me that he knew I had been looking around. That took me by surprise, but it’s not like I was trying to hide anything. On the contrary, it was his shop that wasn’t transparent. Explaining that Pam and I had been talking about starting a family, we realized it wasn’t possible on $2.70 an hour. He mentioned the standard ten cents an hour increase in which everyone received each January, but that was the best he could do. All of us knew to expect that. Pushing the envelope, I told him that I was hoping for thirty cents now. He assured me that he couldn’t do that. Satisfied that I had done my best at that point and that we understood each other, I thanked him for his time and returned to work in the shop.

During a phone call with Pam’s parents, we informed them that I had been looking for another job within the trade, of course. As the Mare Island Naval Shipyard Commander’s secretary, she recommended I apply there, where the pay and benefits were as good as could be found. Asking her how I could that could be possible from across the country, she told me that she would send me an application form. I was to complete it as best I could and send it back to her. She would then take it around to the people she knew. What did I have to lose, right?

A few weeks after I had sent her the completed application, she called us back and told us that she had taken it to the the superintendent of the inside machine shop, Shop 31. Upon reviewing it, he told her that he would hire me. Excited with this turn of events, I teturned to work the following morning and informed Harry I would be leaving in two weeks. Obviously disappointed, he asked if there was anything he could do to change my mind. I explained that I had a job in a machine shop waiting for me in California for more than twice the pay and that once again, Pam and I would be near our own families. He had already informed me what he was limited, but I did feel an obligation to explain.

Harry didn’t take it well and unfortunately, things were unnecessarily tense between us after that. I was only looking out for number one. Then in what appeared to be a sudden burst of rage, he stormed out of his office, rushed by the long bench against the brick wall to where I was working and fired me at the end of the first of my two weeks. Disillusioned, I began putting all my tools away as he sat, watching me through his office window. As I was close to finishing up, he reimerged and unable to look me in the eye, he told me that he had acted in haste and said I could stay the following week if I wanted to. Not much of an apology, if I do say so myself! Why would any reasonable person want to stay after all that? I didn’t need the money and I certainly didn’t need this. I only gave him two weeks notice so he would have time to find a replacement for me. I continued cleaning up my tools and putting them away when he asked me to stay the following week. Realizing that that was as close to an apology as I was going to get, I accepted his gesture and completed the two weeks I had promised him. Pam and I were soon on our way back to California with trailer in tow the last week in August.

Once in the restricted industrial area of Mare Island Naval Shipyard, the machine shop appeared to be the biggest building on the shipyard, dwarfing the one I had spent the last three years in. Following my interview on Thursday, September 5, Mr. Tamargo, the General Foreman of the section where I would be working, informed me that he wanted me to start the very next day. That next day, however, was my birthday and while I didn’t really want to work on my birthday, but I did.

Day shift began at 7:30AM. Upon arriving, I was assigned to the automatic screw machine section of the machine shop. After all, the automatic screw machines were where I had most of my experience albeit the ones I had learned on were many times larger. They were 6 and 8 spindle machines, compared to the single spindle machines in Shop 31. In the old shop, we were required to work two machines at a time while often sharing a third one with another employee. In Shop 31, no one was allowed to work more than one machine at a time, 8 hours a day, five days a week. That was a hard adjustment for me! What was I going to do with all that free time? It wasn’t until the very next day that I realized how lucky it was that I didn’t get to California any later than I did. On Saturday, September 7, the very day after I started my new job, President Nixon put a freeze on all government hiring.

Not long into the hiring freeze, the outside machine shop became overwhelmed by their workload and requested assistance from the inside machine shop. Being the low man on the totem pole, I was put on temporary loan where I was now working in a dry dock, overhauling a submarine in the missile compartment. Those temporary assignments rarely lasted more than a few months. Slipping through the cracks, I ended up out there for just over one year, delaying my chances at becoming a permanent employee and receiving the benefits that weren’t available to temporary employees. After three long years of temporary employment, I finally became a permanent civil service employee where I began paying into the civil service retirement system and receiving health benefits. Prior to then, I was paying for that out of my own pocket.

1976 was the nation’s bicentennial celebration. Pam was expecting our first baby. I had been working 12 hour shifts, seven days a week for two months. While visiting my parents, we told them that if the baby is born on July 4, we would name it George Washington Haskins or Betsy Ross Haskins. We both got a kick out of my dad’s reaction. “You wouldn’t do that to a kid, would you?” He shouted. We kept him on the hook until our son was born on the 15th.

In the meantime, Pam had contracted gestestional diabetes and they induced labor on the morning of July 14. She was in hard labor for 24 hours. Eighteen hours into labor, they decided to take some x-rays to get a better look at what the problem was. Subsequently, the doctor decided that more aggressive procedures were necessary. They began by pushing down on her abdomen and manipulating the position of the baby by hand to help the labor along. Our first son was born a short time later. Pam was totally exhausted. Her delivery was so long and difficult, the doctors recommended we not have anymore children.

Years later, we learned from Pam’s mom that one of the nurses who was on duty that day, had informed her that Little Ted had ingested a strep germ and became so ill that they didn’t expect him to survive.

After I knew Pam was going to be fine, I left the hospital and drove directly to Mom and Dad’s house, across town, to break the news. I mentioned that he looked like a little Eskimo baby. Mom was an Alaska native so that wasn’t an unreasonable observation. Their reaction wasn’t anything like I thought it should have been following such a comment. I suppose if I had known then that I wasn’t their biological son, I would have known how ridiculous it really was.

Little Ted, as we called him, became jaundiced. It continued to get so bad that they decided that a blood transfusion should be performed. At the very last moment, however, his numbers finally began to come down, avoiding the transfusion. He was a greater blessing than we realized for years.

The 12 hour shifts I had been working finally ended and at the same time Mom informed us that she wanted to take us to Alaska for a few days so that her mom could meet her first great grandson. While we were talking it over, Pam told me that she didn’t have any desire to see Alaska. She thought that it was all ice and snow until I explained to her that Ketchikan was not what she had envisioned and assured her that she would love it. Besides, I really needed the break after three months of 12 hour shifts, seven days a week!

Little Ted cried the entire flight. We felt so badly for all the other passengers as there was nothing anyone could do to make him stop. Shortly after arriving at the hotel in downtown Ketchikan, Little Ted went right to sleep and for the first time, slept throughout the night.

The first full day in Ketchikan, “the Salmon Capital of the World,” started early for the three of us. We decided to go for a walk and see the sites. It was a brisk autumn morning as we strolled downtown and looked at all the netting boats in the harbor before going to a popular destination known as Creek Street which back in its heyday was a red light district, where the original houses still line the river and millions of salmon begin their inland journey during spawning season. I don’t remember when or where we started talking about eventually owning a log home, but it could very well have been during that trip.

Grandma Tompson lived in a state run home for Senior native Alaskans at zero cost to them, with a complete medical staff on site. She was a very quiet woman who when she spoke, it was usually in English, her second language. She always sounded to me like a little girl. While saying very little during our visit, it was clear that she felt a great affection for her first and only great grandson.

The rest of our visit and the return flight went without a hitch but I still miss flying in from Seattle on a sea plane like we used to do back in the 1960s, before the Ketchikan airport was built.

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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.”

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