Turtle Rock

While living in California, we had looked at hundreds of log home floor plans in many sizes and styles by numerous companies. It was overwhelming at times and deciding on just one seemed impossible. What we did ultimately decide, however, was to not allow house cleaning to define our golden years.

Unaware of the many different kinds of logs there were, our taste changed over the years and the look we settled on was nothing like the original plans we fell in love with when we started. There were round logs, D-shaped logs, and square logs. The way they fit together differed from company to company as well. Little did we know then that the shape of the logs was but a beginning of many more decisions we’d have to make regarding our dream home. There were also decisions to be made on the interior design. We both liked a rustic look and decided on exposed, heavy timber beams.

In the early years, we were attracted to round logs, but we ended up choosing square logs for our home, much like the ones on the cabin I was born in. Of course, that cabin was too small and confining for our needs. We both wanted something larger, but how much larger could it be while remaining practical? With each step, the more exciting the process became. Pam, more or less, left the size and shape of the house to my discretion. The decor, I left entirely up to her as she always had a great eye for that sort of thing. Frankly, I could have been happy living in the cabin I was born in. I always enjoyed roughing it. It was in my blood!

Returning to square one, I decided to calculate the size I wanted each room to be. One room at a time, I measured and assessed its qualities and its downfalls. We both liked the openness of one great room instead of a living room and family room arrangement like our Vacaville home had. The kitchen, of course, should blend in with the great room. A walk-in pantry off the kitchen made sense and two bedrooms were ideal – as well as a master bedroom, a guest bedroom and two bathrooms. One more room would be necessary to give me a place to play my guitar. That guided us through the selection process of an aesthetically pleasing floor plan that we both could live with. By the time we got to Virginia, we had a pretty good idea of which floor plan we would go with.

Now living in Virginia, with Jeanette and Mike we could watch our log home get built and we wouldn’t be putting them out for more than six months. Pamela Denese’s husband, Danny, recommended a general contractor with a 30-year background in building log homes. After meeting Steve and his wife, Lu, it was obvious who we would trust to build a quality log home for us. By the way, Lu was Danny’s sister. I think it’s quite possible that we are all related around here.

Upon Steve’s recommendation, we looked into the log home company he was affiliated with. Driving to visit their Tennessee headquarters, we ultimately decided on a floor plan from their custom log home designs created by one of their own customers. It was described as a traditional log home design with retired couples or young families in mind. Of course, we customized it somewhat to meet our needs and fancies while incorporating suggestions from Steve.

A two story floor plan, the Clayton model featured 3 bedrooms, two bathrooms, great room, and office/den. The total square footage was more than we wanted so we brought it down by changing one of the two upstairs bedrooms into a loft, reducing the square footage of that room by 50%. It also opened up the great room.

The loft would be used as my music room. We did, however, add two feet to the width of the house in order to accommodate a garage and basement combination. We also planned a dumbwaiter to go from the second floor, to the basement where the laundry would be done. The office/den feature located between the master bathroom and the pantry, would be eliminated to accommodate a deeper, walk-in pantry while making the master bathroom slightly larger. We added a dormer in the upstairs bedroom and Steve suggested we change the single dormer to a double dormer and add a shed dormer on the back side of the house to give us more room in the loft and guest bedroom. Good call!

The first draft wasn’t quite to our specs so we noted the errors before submitting the changes. The second draft required a few measurement adjustments that the architect failed to change the first time. We were satisfied with the third draft until Steve told us how much it was going to cost. It seems that the recent artificially skyrocketing costs in material caused the cost to increase to more than what we had budgeted which was the reason why many construction jobs had been put on hold. This was the post COVID era, after all, and the government had been paying everyone to stay home. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the luxury of putting our construction on hold so we had to roll with the punches.

Back to the drawing board we went to get that cost within our budget. Eliminating the basement, there was no longer a need for the dumb waiter. We also decided to look around for a more affordable roofer because we were determined to stay with a metal roof. It was the roof we preferred from the beginning. Not because it was the least expensive material but for aesthetic reasons. The price increased because of its subsequent popularity. Finding a roofer that would work within our budget, we then submitted and subsequently approved the fourth and final draft on July 30, 2021. Each revision was disheartening in that it caused another delay in completing our house.

Steve then estimated six months from the time we started clearing the property to completion and move-in. When we first started looking into log homes, we were told to expect three to four months from the time they begin clearing the land. That was, however, pre-COVID and as anxious as we were, six months really didn’t seem too bad to us now.

After numerous walks through our thickly wooded property, I decided on the precise location and positioning of the house as well as the driveway details, – the depth, shape and materials. Fortunately, it wasn’t too far from the designated location of the septic and drain field. Keeping with the rustic theme, we attended several estate auctions where Pam purchased several antiques for the log cabin, including some old farm equipment to display outside. Jeanette’s basement quickly filled with the furniture and other things, making it difficult to get from one end to the other.

September 27, 2021 – Excavation Day at Turtle Rock. We rarely missed a day observing the construction for the duration. The excavation turned up numerous rocks from under the surface of the ground. Some of them, much too large for the average person to handle. When asked what I wanted done with them, I requested they put them in a nearby pile to be used for future landscaping ideas I had.

After the foundation was poured, I began to think I had made a huge mistake, appearing a bit too small. Then came the subflooring, and preparations for the first log. Our excitement was hard to contain when the big rigs then arrived with all the logs from Tennessee.

Like Batman and Robin, Steve, the knowledgeable and highly skilled craftsman and experienced general contractor, with Keith, his vigilant assistant were a great team and second to none in my opinion. Steve, by his own admission, usually had a larger crew, but they apparently were staying home and collecting their “stay-at-home” government paychecks. Because there were so many others staying home, doing the same, many materials were hard to acquire and consequently more expensive than usual.

The windows of our cabin were made in Oregon, but some of the materials were sitting off the west coast, delaying our project for weeks. Steve directed us to a special plumbing showroom to order all our plumbing fixtures. Keeping with the rustic theme, Pam purchased a farmers’ sink for the kitchen and a claw-foot, slipper bathtub for the guest bathroom with rustic hardware to compliment them both.

The master bathroom would have only a shower, no tub. The rustic shower stall would have tile walls that looked like old barn wood with an exposed aggregate floor. We spent a full day selecting custom cupboards and flooring before going to another location to select the marble slab that would become the counter tops in the kitchen and both bathrooms. It was actually cut to size and the holes drilled for the fittings after it arrived on-site.

When we called to have the kitchen sink and bathtub delivered, we were informed that they didn’t have the tub after assuring us a couple months earlier that they were in the warehouse , with our names on them. I’m sure that it must have been sold and delivered to someone else. Then we played the waiting game. It didn’t arrive on the date they said it would and then again. Taking matters in her own hands, Pam searched the internet and after a few days of calling several places, actually found one in stock, in Massachusetts, if I remember correctly. She purchased it and it was delivered in only a few days.

We learned that Steve had the worst trouble/luck building our log home than any other job he had done. It was a sign of the times. No one worked and material delays were common everywhere. During the final weeks of construction, it rained, and it rained, and it rained causing further delays because it was too wet to do a final grade on the property immediately around the house. It had to be graded and seeded for grass before the county inspectors would sign it off.

Instead of taking three months from start to finish as we had originally been told, and instead of taking six months as Steve had told us to expect, in was two days shy of eleven months after the first tree came down that we crossed the finish line and moved into our new log home – August 25, 2022.

The loft is where I have set up my music room and it displays my momentos from my prior 20-year career in television production, including a wall of fame for the certifications, achievements, and autographed pictures and posters of celebrities that I had the pleasure of working with. It’s where I can be found, playing my guitar, surrounded by reminders of the past great times and memories when I’m not busy working our five wooded acres.

I used the recovered stones to build a walkway from the driveway to the steps in front of the full-length front porch. I also used some of the remaining stones to pave around the fire pit and build a retaining wall for a flower garden that separates the fire pit area from the back yard. A few feet away, I put in an arbor with swinging iron gates at the trailhead to the spring that runs through our property.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it before, but Pam’s mom, Carol, died two weeks after we left California, requiring our immediate return. A couple years later, Cindy, Pam’s oldest sister died after moving from California to Florida to be with her daughter and her family. Last June, we also lost Pam’s dad, Lou. Our first Christmas in our log cabin, Pam and I received the devastating news that Madison had a seizure during her sleep and didn’t recover.

Jeanette and Mike gifted a white stone bench memorializing LT and Madison that I surrounded with transplanted ferns where the trail meets the spring. Within eye’s view from the bench sits a giant rock that stretches out and over the spring that resembles a turtle shell, hence the name, Turtle Rock.

On the sandy banks of the spring, you can often times see prints left by thirsty raccoons, foxes, opossums, and deer that frequent our property. Of course, the spring is home for minnows and frogs and the warm summer nights make the woods look like Christmas with the abundant fireflies throughout.

I stepped out the back door this afternoon to check on the chickens and gather eggs when Yoda, our fearless Yorkie, previously owned by LT and Diana before their untimely passings, stirred up a deer and a fox within a minute or two, right outside the yard, in the woods. It’s obvious that she too loves her new home in the country. Every day here at Turtle Rock is an adventure!

Just a few miles away, four of my five sisters still make this area home. The fifth and youngest sister moved to St. Croix not long after we arrived in Virginia and she continues to live there now. In the next county over, a half-hour away, is Berry Mountain and the log cabin I was born in. We are surrounded by an abundance of history and family heritage.

Pam and I, both, love it here and the country life we now have. I’ve built a vegetable garden for her where we are still learning what grows best. Veggies certainly grow differently here compared to Vacaville! I’ve since added a high fence to keep out the critters and discourage the deer. Being the incredible cook that she is, Pam still enjoys cooking and preparing meals from the garden and I truly love working the property.

A tractor and a hydraulic log splitter now compliment my chainsaw so I don’t work my frail back any harder than need be. While it’s not easy for me to accept, it seems I’m not getting any younger! I spend much of my time outdoors trying to make the wild woods look groomed and aesthetically pleasing. Five acres makes that a full time job for this old man, but only if I care to work full time these days. I work only as hard as I want to now, never running out of things to do. That is the one thing that seems to be going as planned.

I also have a lot more time with my thoughts and I’ve thought a lot about the circumstances surrounding my birth: Sugarloaf handing her two week old baby boy through the window of a car to complete strangers became a story that captured the imaginations of the local mountain folk for years – legendary you might say as was revealed by the young man that asked me if I had heard about it. What still remains a mystery, however, and has not provoked much thought, is not so much why Sugarloaf concealed her pregnancy before retreating to the seclusion of Berry Mountain, but what appears completely innocent on the surface, is the fact that she sneaked away to the outhouse when she went into labor. I offer that maybe she never planned on coming back out with that baby.

Sugarloaf’s confession to Jeanette, years later, that she had given birth to a baby boy just before ending his precious, innocent life and disposing of the body in a garbage bag, led me to wonder if she had planned, years before, on exiting that outhouse alone. No matter how unthinkable her actions may have been, it may have given her a certain degree of comfort in having closure. Isn’t it reasonable to believe a mother’s natural, intrinsic reaction would be to wonder about her baby’s welfare over the years after giving it away to complete strangers?

As inexcusable as it may have been, it would explain why a distraught mother might commit such a desperate act. That would also explain her loving reaction upon meeting that son 55 years later even though she presented herself to others with a hard, protective shell throughout the years.

Three years have passed since we moved into our dream home situated on five wooded acres. We’ve loved every moment of this dream come true. I still get a thrill just walking out the door and seeing our surrounding woods, instead of that asphalt, concrete, and high density housing in California.

In the words of Paul Anka, I reflect:

“regrets, I’ve had a few,

But too few to mention…

I’ve lived a life that’s full.

I’ve traveled each and every highway…

I did it my way.”

I’ve had some remarkable highs and lows throughout my life. I attribute much of my successes to Mom and Dad, even though I may not have been smart enough to be a lawyer, and to each and every person I’ve known throughout my life. For without them, I would not be who I am today. I truly believe that each of us is a product of each and everyone we’ve come in contact with throughout our lives.

For those whom I may have hurt, as God is my witness, I assure you that it was never my intention and I’m truly sorry.

Few others are as blessed as I am today. Thank you, one and all.

After spending Thanksgiving with Jeanette and family, I returned home for Christmas. Haywood’s health had taken a turn for the worse during my visit. He had been suffering recent setbacks from his battle with diabetes and COPD. Poor circulation in his legs led to amputations of his toes and later his leg. One evening while the three of us were watching television in the basement, he had fallen asleep in his recliner. It was then that I noticed just how bad he really was. His breathing was rather loud, gurgling with each exhalation, reminding me of both my parents shortly before they passed. Not wanting to upset Jeanette, I didn’t say anything to her about it. I’m sure she knew in her heart that the time was near.

On Christmas morning, Jeanette called with the news that he had died in his sleep on Christmas Eve. She then asked if I would be a pall bearer at his funeral. Of course I accepted. It was a great honor to carry this stellar man and honorable war hero to his final resting place.

Back again in Virginia, my stay was unexpectedly extended as there were a total of seven deaths within a matter of six weeks. Two of them included Mike’s mother and his cousin who lived across the road from he and a Jeanette, both of whom I had the pleasure of knowing over the years.

As I write this, I’m reminded of the time that Jeanette and I went with a small group of other family members to a nearby casino one night. Haywood and Oshie, Mike’s mother, were part of the group. Oshie had been playing a particular slot machine when Haywood asked her if he could give it a try. There was always a healthy competition between them and she reluctantly let him sit in for a few minutes. With his first tug of the handle on the one-arm bandit, Haywood hit the jackpot. We were all in disbelief. Oshie began to get upset to the point that she explained it away by saying there was a camera on that particular machine and the person watching noticed that he was a Korean War POW and felt sorry for him, giving him that jackpot. Her behavior was so funny, partly because she truly believed what she was saying. We laughed about that for years! The truth is, he was always lucky that way. I never knew anyone who won so much while gambling, especially with scratch tickets!

While visiting Lou and Carol, Pam revealed the news of our property purchase. I guess the pressure of keeping it a secret had become too much for her. I was probably just as surprised as they were, except for a different reason. She hadn’t discussed telling them with me. Not that she had to, but we usually discussed such things first. Understandibly disappointed, they both eventually realized it was going to make both of us happy to be able to retire with everything we always had hoped for. We gladly shared pictures and video of the property as they inquired. Lou and I talked at great length over the following months as he expressed pleasure in knowing that Pam and I were going to get out of California while we could and leave that mess that our political leaders had made of the state. By his own admission, he would have loved to be able to do the same but it was unfortunately too late for them.

Every eight to ten years, technology in my line of work, advances so much that it required updating my equipment, costing tens of thousands of dollars. Business has been so bad that I could no longer justify the investment. After 20 years in a career I loved dearly, I ultimately closed my commercial production business and retired. While being disappointed over having to close my business, I understood that it was nothing less than a blessing to have had two twenty-year careers that I loved so much. There are too many people that have but a single career in a job they aren’t truly satisfied doing.

I didn’t stay retired very long before deciding I needed something more to do. I guess I wasn’t quite ready for a rocking chair. After all, I was only in my early 60s. Feeling I could afford to be particular about what I would do, I decided that I wasn’t going to accept a position of leadership or management. I had had enough of that. My major hurdle, however, would be convincing the person reviewing my resume or application that I wasn’t as old as I appeared on paper. I could have documented my age as ten years younger and no one would have known the difference by looking at me, but my work history would have given it away. I wanted to do something different than I had done for the past 40 years so no machine shops and no television production this time around.

Deciding to apply for a position delivering meals to the needy, I had a time trying to convince them I was exactly what they needed. I interviewed for a job delivering snacks to the Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs in Napa from Suisun, California. They were doubtful regarding my ability to handle 50 each, 100 pound ice chests every day. Being a retired bodybuilder of 20 years, there was no doobt in my mind that I could perform the tasks but they didn’t seem to be convinced after my interview. I was therefore, doubtful about getting that job so I applied for a delivery driver position with FedEx in neighboring Fairfield. Much to my surprise, I received a phone call regarding the first application. I was told that they wanted me for the job but was afraid that I wouldn’t accept what little they could afford to pay. Telling them to make me an offer, I suggested they let me decide. They did, and I agreed to their terms. A couple weeks into the job, they appeared pleased with my work ethic and I certainly was happy to be working again although I must admit that handling so many ice chests was physically challenging.

FedEx then called to set up an interview. After one month delivering snacks to the Boys’ and Girls’ club, and allowing money to be my compass, I went to work as a delivery driver for FedEx. The demands of driving 90 minutes from Fairfield to San Rafael and Sausalito five days a week and as long as 14 hours a day wore me down. After a year and a half, my knees could no longer take climbing in and out of that big delivery truck. Although my spirit was willing, my body, in its 60s, was clearly telling me that the time was now.

Following Madison’s graduation from high school, we took her with us to Virginia. One of the highlights of her trip was meeting her dad’s identical cousin, Bino. She couldn’t get over the likeness between them and insisted on getting a picture with him. We also took her to the cabin on the mountain where I was born and then to visit the property we had purchased. She fell in love with it and said she wanted to live there with us after finishing college. Of course, we were delighted to know this and made a deal with her. She could live with us in her own place on our property only if she cared for the animals we planned on having. She grew even more excited and said she couldn’t wait!

Later, LT had been having problems at work, subsequently losing his job with the town of Danville. I went to his house to see if I could help him. He was very upset and reluctant to talk about it. He eventually told me that they let him go for health reasons. I wasn’t buying that as I know that you can’t be fired from a government job because of health reasons. Pam and Diana had told that he had a drinking problem and that’s why he lost his job. He wouldn’t let me help so I realized he just wasn’t ready. Before leaving I told him I would be back in a few days to check on him.

When I returned, he refused to answer the door. Shortly after I drove away, he called me on the phone to let me know he was home but too busy to answer the door. I proceeded to tell him that I realized he wasn’t ready to deal with the root problem, but when he was, he could call me and I would help.

About one week later, in early February I flew back to visit Jeanette. Valentines Day evening, I was in bed when I received a text from Pam asking me to call her. Noticing how late it was, I knew something was wrong. She said she had tried to call me but it wouldn’t go through. Stepping out the back door of the basement, I called her back and heard the worst news a parent could ever hear. She told me that “LT was dead.” Josh had called to tell her that he had been trying to call him on the phone and he wasn’t answering. He then asked her to go check on him. She did and found him lifeless on his bed. I immediately told her that I was going to book the next flight out and call her right back to let her know when I’d be home.

Jeanette had also gone to bed. Mike was in his recliner, the living room where he spent practically every hour of the day. Not wanting to wake him, I went directly to Jeanette’s room to let her know. After telling her the news, I told her I was going to book the next flight back home. Returning to the basement, I was so distraught that I couldn’t even book a flight on my laptop. Jeanette got up to tell Mike the news before coming downstairs to check on me. So distressed, I had to ask her to book the flight for me.

As soon as Jeanette gave me the flight information, I called Pam to let her know and find out if she was okay. She assured me she was as well as could be expected and staying the night with her parents. It wasn’t long before Dinah and Susan arrived to help me through this most difficult time. Approaching 3AM, they had been there for a couple hours or so and had to head out to get some sleep before going to work in the morning.

Jeanette accompanied me on the flight in the morning. Thank God she did because I was a complete mess. We got the last two seats on the plane all the way in the back. I remember little else about the flight as I spent nearly every minute with my face in my hands. Jeanette was a godsend! I couldn’t have done it without her.

It was only a few weeks after LT’s funeral that Diana informed us that she had just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She died just before Christmas. Her body was cremated and the ashes were scattered at sea. Pam and I paid tribute to her by adding her name to LT’s tombstone. We were both completely devastated. I, for one, wasn’t handling the losses very well and began to self medicate by drinking in the evenings. With LT and now Diana gone, we could at least count our blessings that we still had Madison. At least there was some comfort knowing that she would be coming to live with us after she graduates college.

Taking a job driving for Uber, I was making good money, more than I could have imagined, honestly. However, it wasn’t about the money for me at that point. I enjoyed conversing with the riders, which often times led to my telling them about Jeanette’s enduring journey to find me.

When COVID hit, everything changed for the worse. Nearly overnight, the roads and highways became eerily vacated. Cities looked like ghost towns and few people were requesting Uber. Those who did however, now seemed to be angry and mean spirited. Maybe it was due to being closed in and having little personal contact outside their close family members. Drivers and riders alike, were required to wear masks. We had to spray everything inside the vehicle after each rider.

Trying to breathe with a surgical mask was difficult for me, but I found some relief by slipping it down, off my nose, always pulling it back up before the next rider entered the vehicle. One rider reported me on the Uber app, claiming that I didn’t wear a mask during their ride. Uber sent me a warning that I could be terminated for not being compliant. I never drove without it on my face. I couldn’t take that chance of getting COVID and giving it to Pam who because of her diabetes, was a high risk. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that would have happened. Several days later, when I arrived to pick up another rider, it turned out to be a no show. I reported it as such so I could be released from that ride. I later learned that the rider who failed to show up reported that they wouldn’t ride with a driver that didn’t wear a mask. Of course, that too was a false claim. I was warned that a third report like that would lead to my dismissal. I had been driving Uber for a year and a half by then and everyone of my reviews were excellent up to that time. I didn’t want to risk losing my job over false claims so I quit. It was just before Christmas and Pam was planning to retire the following February. Deciding to fully retire, it was our plan to sell everything as soon as she retired and move to Virginia where we would build our log home to our needs and desires.

Saturday and Sunday, March 7 and 8, our real estate agent hosted an open house, immediately after it was listed. We held an estate sale on those same days making for some pretty heavy foot traffic that weekend. We sold everything we could so we wouldn’t be taking much back with us. Pam wanted to start from scratch with our new home in Virginia.

The following Tuesday, after three bids had been submitted for the house, we accepted one of the two that was higher than our asking price. The third offer was exactly the amount we were asking for.

Jeanette, Mike, and David arrived from Virginia, hauling a trailer for the things we decided to keep. Roberta, their neighbor from across the road also came along for the road trip. at the end of that week. Pam’s last day at work was Friday, March 13, one month after her original retirement date. David and I loaded the trailer and hooked it up to my truck before we were on the road Sunday morning. At long last, Pam and I were now part of the mass exodus that resulted in 360,000 – 400,000 people leaving what was once the golden state.

More to come

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.

More To Come

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