Licensed to teach English and History in the state of Virginia. Full time #housespouse. I'm just trying to live a happy life. I read, I run, I write, and I do other goofy stuff.
I won't pretend my announcement carries as much weight as someone that actually comes out of the closet as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or anything else. It was purely meant to grab your attention and to get you to read.
So what is my big announcement?
I think I know what my new identity is. It's house spouse.
I say "think" because I'm still struggling a little bit with the new identity. But after 15 months of being one, it's finally dawning on me that it's okay to be a house spouse.
Let me back up a little bit.
Even though I grew up in a household that was anything but traditional, I was always taught that a man runs the house and earns the money while the woman takes care of the kids and cleans things. And before my mom freaks out, I will clarify that I was never taught this by my parents. It was by society as a whole. Any movie or TV show or book or magazine or some random stranger you'd see in public would always emphasize, either deliberately or subliminally, that the man was the one to earn the money and the woman was meant to take care of him and the house.
Even through college, I saw examples of this in my own family. It was just normal. And that was fine with me. I never questioned it. It's how everyone lived.
But as I got older, more and more people defied that norm. Some did it in their own way, quietly, on their own. Others were more vocal about how they wanted to break with that American caste system. For me, I was happy to support anyone's way of life. For me, I typically earned less than my wife, and while it bothered me that I wasn't the head honcho of money, I never really felt bad about it. Over time I eventually made more than my wife and again, while I felt proud to be successful, I never really felt like I was better than her.
I guess in the end, as a couple, we usually decide on things together as equals.
As I embrace this new identity, I don't feel like I'm less than an equal in my marriage. Sometimes I feel like I'm the one with the better deal in that I can spend more time with my kids, but I don't feel like I'm less of a husband, less of a man, or less of a person just because I make less money than before.
So where does that leave me? Like I said, I've spent the last 15 months as a house spouse. I joked about it in the past but the more I thought about it, the more I realized this really was what my new job was. And since most men identify themselves by their profession, I'm a house spouse.
So there you have it. My big but not so earth-shattering announcement. Most of you already know I had a massive career change last year. This is just me finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and finally recognizing what kind of moth I am now that I've emerged from my cocoon.
For local historians, the Tayloe family has an important role in the
early history of King George County. But did you know they had ties to
one of the most famous impostors of the 20th century?
An early
settler to the Northern Neck, the Tayloe family had ties to other major families like the Lees and
Taliaferros and they held land in several counties. One of those
pieces of land was Powhatan Farm in King George. As the land was divided over
several generations, Powhatan Farm came to be held by Bladen Tasker
Tayloe. Falling on hard times in April 1935, Bladen sold Powhatan Farm
at public auction to John W. Walters from New York. Mr. Walters would
eventually sell the farm in 1955 to the current owners, the Guest
family.
While the Guest family may have real royal
connections, there was a Russian Prince living at the farm before they
purchased it. Prince Michael Alexandrovitch Dmitry Obelensky Romanoff.
Don't worry if you've never heard of him. I only knew him from
Miracle on 34th Street (1947) when the Doctor is trying to argue his
case that Kris Kringle isn't a danger to society and he says:
"Why
there are thousands of people walking around with similar delusions,
living perfectly normal lives in every other respect. A famous example
is that fellow — I can't think of his name — but for years he’s insisted
he’s a Russian prince. He owns a famous restaurant in Hollywood and is a
highly respected citizen."
That's right, Prince Michael Alexandrovitch Dmitry Obelensky Romanoff, or Prince Mike if you prefer, was an imposter.
Prince
Mike went by countless aliases, false names, and false titles. He
claimed to be everything from a Count to a Captain and a Vanderbilt to a
Rockefeller. In the end, or really the beginning, he was Harry
Gerguson. In 1935, with Mr. Walters as the new owner of Powhatan Farm,
Prince Mike came to take charge of the farm. Using the alias John
William Adams, and posing as a professor from Yale, Prince Mike took over managing the
farm. Reportedly in ruins, he kicked out the sheep living in the house
and made repairs, built roads, and cleared fields.
Prince Mike
was apparently isolating himself so that he, acting as the Yale
Professor, could write "The Philosophy of History." Despite his
isolation, he did make friends; a horse named Betty and a cat named, of
all things, Gerguson. He was friendly with the Tayloe family as well, even gifting them a small puppy that would end up bearing his name.
From Return to Powhatan by Roberta Love Tayloe
His self-imposed isolation only lasted a
year. He made a trip to Richmond to see a show and was identified by a
society reporter as Prince Mike. He would leave King George in an old,
junky car and would turn up in Hollywood a few years later
sporting a wad of cash, a fancy car, and a new restaurant.
Prince
Mike would become Hollywood royalty after opening his restaurant. Here are a few names from the very long list of Hollywood types he associated with; Charlie
Chaplin, James Cagney, Jack Benny, Barbara Stanwyck, Clark Gable, and
David Niven. Prince Mike reportedly only
came back to the Fredericksburg area once shortly after his re-birth in
Hollywood as a restaurateur. He would eventually die in September of
1971, nearly a decade after closing his famous restaurant.
One
parting ironic twist. Prince Mike's early childhood was nearly a mirror
to that seen in Boys Town (1938) staring Mickey Rooney. As an orphan and
runaway and petty criminal, Prince Mike needed a father figure in his
life to set him on the right track. While he wouldn't find it until he
left King George, both Prince Mike and Mickey Rooney would follow the
same path, this time in real life, as they served as pallbearers for
Errol Flynn in 1959.
Welcome to your newest form of torture, the stoplight at Dahlgren Road and Caledon Road (Routes 206 and 218 respectively). Before you yell at me and tell me that the light is a necessary evil, I will forewarn you that I only agree that some improvement was necessary there. However, I feel a traffic light is not one of them.
Traffic circles get a lot of negative press, and even more than normal here in King George. But before you shove those fingers in your ears and start yelling "LA! LA! LA!" let me remind you that the science is there to prove traffic circles work at not only moving traffic faster through the intersection but also doing it more safely than a typical stoplight.
Before we continue debating the pros and cons of lights and signs and circles, let's take a moment to look at a potential solution. VDOT has installed the stoplight and we all know they’re not likely to remove it anytime soon. Maybe we can find a solution that will make some of you happy. Or at least less upset at driving through yet another stoplight on your daily commute. With nearly 10,000 employees, Dahlgren is the host to our area’s primary employers. Factor in Potomac Elementary School during the school year, limited capacity on local roads, and it's a recipe for a commuter's nightmare.
What I propose is an alternative route to Dahlgren. My proposal is based on a few assumptions so let's get those out of the way first. I'm assuming that most of the traffic comes from the Fredericksburg area. I'm assuming that most of the traffic is going to Dahlgren's Main Gate. I'm assuming that we are all driving the speed limit because, well, we all know that’s the right thing to do.
To measure my distances, I used two points; Sealston Elementary School and the Dahlgren Post Office. I measured various routes using main roads and secondary roads, counted the stoplights, and even compare distances that are two lanes versus four lanes. Below is the end result of what I found.
#
Route Used
Total Distance
Number of Stoplights
2 Lanes vs. 4 Lanes
1
Route 3 to Route 206
19.6 miles
7 (Sealston, Hopyard, Post Office, KGMS, St. Paul's, WaWa, PES)
*The distance from St. Anthony’s Road to Tinsbloom Lane, where Route 3 goes to two lanes, is approximately 1.1 miles.
It’s pretty easy to see that the shortest distance is the tried and true Route 206 (#1). But when you look at #2 and #3, you’ll see the distance is only another mile further. For the fewest traffic lights, you’ll need to use #2 or #6. For the longest distance on four lane roads, #3 and #5 are your best bet while #2 has only two lane roads.
After crunching way more numbers and datasets than I expected, after learning more about the differences between geometric mean and harmonic mean, I finally stopped my circular calculations and decided to arrive at a ground-breaking opinion.
I say ground-breaking because I’m going to disagree with my own data as well as my own attempt at weighting the different routes based on these factors. In other words, I’m going to go with my gut. And my gut says, use option #3 (Route 3 to Route 205 to Highway 301 to Route 206). I feel like this gives you the best option to drop off your kids at all the different schools, it allows you to safely make left-hand turns, and it gives you the best combination of faster roads and shorter distances.
#
Distance (miles)
4 Lane %
Stoplight Time (seconds)
TOTAL
1
19.6
43.88%
245
308.48
2
20.7
0.00%
140
160.70
3
20.7
79.71%
350
450.41
4
21.8
66.06%
245
332.86
5
22.8
87.28%
385
495.08
6
23.2
79.31%
140
242.51
*To determine the best 2 vs. 4 Ratio, I subtracted the 4 lane distance in miles from the 2 lane distance in miles. This would give the routes with more 4 lane mileage a lower number, which would better align them with the other scores.
** The Stoplight Time is based on an average of 70 seconds per cycle. I then divided each cycle in half (35 seconds) and multiplied by the number of lights on the route.
***The Mean and the Average only differed by a small amount in the Distance and the Total columns. Because the difference was so small, I felt it wasn’t important enough to include this math in the chart.
For those with the inside scoop on where I live and run, you already know about Mrs. Brown. For those that don't, she was my Fourth Grade teacher and she lives just around the corner from where I grew up. Which means she lives just around the corner from where I live now. She and her husband were staples of my neighborhood for decades, always walking their large, white, fluffy dogs. Think Dire Wolves but nicer. After her husband passed, she continues to make an appearance walking her dog around the local streets.
But before I get into the headline, let's rewind a little bit. For the past few weeks, I've been neck deep in removing the insulation from the Fort Max attic. Then installing new insulation. And then I had to demolish our back porch to make room for a new one. Well, the insulation tore me up. Figuratively. It was beastly work with more crawling around than a worm does in a life time. But after a few weeks, we perfected the process of removing the blown in cellulose crap. And after a few stumbles, I perfected installing the new fiberglass batts.
But it still sucked. And with the weather nice and a looming deadline to start the deck, I just rolled right from one project into another. And with the help of my neighbor, the deck was a heap of rotten wood after just two days of quick work. And I wasn't even rushing. In fact, I was taking my time, making sure I didn't damage the propane line into the house, the heat pump, the back door, or any windows. It was a little nerve-wracking at times but I got it done.
And I'm glad I did. It was scary. So scary, I don't think it would have lasted a heavy snow, stiff breeze, or large picnic party. Hell, it almost caved on me twice. While I was on it. But it's done now and I feel better for it.
But all of this work means that I didn't really get any training in. Other than long hours on my hands and knees or swinging a sledge hammer or what-not, I didn't run or bike or anything else. Just some home improvement cross-training.
Sunday I did my best to get out and accomplish something. And I did. I ran a bit and didn't die. But today felt like the first good day in training I've had in a long time. Sure, I'm tired and feel drained but I feel good. And part of that is because of Mrs. Brown.
I made my first loop around the neighborhood hoping I wouldn't get rained on. In fact, I struggled to get dressed because I knew it had rained, would rain, and probably still was raining. But I lucked out and stayed dry for the run. So with the first loop done, I looked down at my watch. I was a full 2 minutes ahead of my normal slow pace and a full minute ahead of my faster pace. But I felt damn good after that first loop.
I started my second loop but started to feel like I was dragging. I had already passed Mrs. Brown and said hello during my first loop but I was now approaching her a second time. But I was walking up the hill this time so we chatted for a few minutes. Her walking pace was much slower than mine but I slowed down to keep the conversation going. She said she was about to turn 75 and credited her dog with keeping her going. We both agreed with that adage I've ignored for years that it's easier to put weight on than it is to take off.
But the best thing she said to me was that she thought I had lost some weight. She noticed it around my middle. As we parted ways, I swear I was floating on wings. I was in the clouds with happiness. Totally saved me from drudging through another mile and totally made my day. Before I left, I made sure to tell her I appreciated the comment and that it made me happy to see her around the neighborhood so much.
I finished the second loop a little slower but I'm totally okay with that.
Photos: Here are some pictures of the deck demo.
And some panorama shots.
Weather: Temps were about 50F. Sky was overcast. Wind was high.
Fluids and Fuel:
Before the run I had two coffees. During the run I had plain water. Recovery was a four egg omelette with left-over ham and cheese and two slices of toast. And coffee.
Aches and Pains: Nothing really hurt. I'm just tired.
Gear: Wore pants, thermal top, wind breaker, hat, and gloves.
Today's Motivation: I'm trying to get back on track before the porch project starts.
Naughty Neil: I made Jewish Apple Cake, thanks to THE Mrs. Beverly Goldberg for the idea, the other day and I've been enjoying it. Lots of sugar in it but it has apples so it must be healthy.
It was a last minute decision but I wanted to give the race a try. I did it a couple of years ago and enjoyed the small-town feel. Most local races are small but this one is what I would call "hyper-local" in that there's rarely more than 20 people there. This year there were only eight runners. That's right, 8 runners.
But I didn't know that when I got up this morning. I didn't sleep well last night. Lots of tossing and turning. Weird dreams. Cold sweats. It's been a long, rough week. So I had low expectations when I dragged myself out of bed and into my running clothes. I ate some toast, had some coffee and did my pooping.
Since the race was all of 5 miles from the house, I didn't need to get up super early. But I still left with more than enough time to get there since I still needed to register. Once registered, I asked how many people they were expecting. The girl said only six people so far. Which made me nervous. I didn't expect a medal or prize or anything like that, but I was nervous about placing. If I were an elite runner or a regular at placing in my age group I'm sure I'd become used to the sensation of getting on the podium. But now that I knew I was even remotely close to placing anywhere in the top ten, I was a bundle of nerves.
Once I hit the bathroom a few more times, we listened to the NJROTC do the Pledge of Allegiance and then were were off to the Start line. Eight people. All I needed to do was finish the race and I'd automatically be in the Top Ten. There were only five men so I was automatically in the Top Five for my gender. And only one guy looked old like me so I was at worst second in the Masters Division. All of these thoughts left my mind, briefly, as we started the race.
And maybe I should clarify a bit, it was a race, but it was also billed as a fun run/walk. So there wasn't a lot of "racing" going on. Sure, we all went out and ran, but I don't think very many of us really, REALLY, pushed the envelope and raced. Except maybe me. But I ended up racing myself, not the others, so I'm not sure how much that counts as actually "racing."
Anyway, the Cross Country Coach decided to take things easy on us and instead of making us run the actual course, we ran a heavy mile loop ("heavy" as in it was a mile loop but it was a little longer than a mile to make it come out to 5k or 3.1 miles at the end). And it was almost perfectly flat, just a small rise of maybe 50 feet of gain per loop from the lowest point to the highest.
The first loop I settled into 6th place and cranked out what felt like a good, but fast pace. I knew I was going too fast but I wanted to push things a little and see how close I could get to last week's time of 33:40. I kept the weird hat lady (I know her name, that's just what I call her in my head so I can remember who she is - she makes funny hats, including a Yoda hat for my son) in close reach. I didn't plan to pass her and she looked like she could easily drop me if pressured. But I wasn't racing her, I was racing myself.
I came around the turn for the first mile and looked at my watch and nearly shit a brick. I was way, WAY faster than expected. Like two minutes ahead of pace. I knew I went out fast and now I was worried I would blow up. I didn't but I did slow down a little bit. But I also kept my foot on the gas because now I was looking beyond the 33 minute goal, beyond my 31 minute PR, and staring down the barrel of a sub 30 minute time. My ultimate goal. Sub-30:00.
I went into the second mile with a whole new chain of thoughts. Should I push hard and aim for sub-30? Or should I ease back and aim for a new PR? Or should I just go with the flow and see what happens? I opted for a little of everything. I'd continue to push but not hard enough to hurt myself. So I came through the second loop and there was Coach again telling me to aim for the sky and keep digging. My split was slower and as I went into my third mile I didn't feel like I could make up the lost time. But I still pushed hard. And when I felt like I needed to puke, I let off the gas. A little. By this time I had just passed the young man in front of me and could see the next two runners in front of me. I had moved into 5th and could see 4th and 3rd ahead of me and I had less than a mile to go. The game was on.
My position never changed but I did my best to push hard at the pace. As I came out of the woods one last time, with maybe a quarter mile to go, I glanced at my watch and saw I wouldn't make the sub-30 goal. But a new PR was still in the air and so I ground it out to the Finish.
After a quick recovery I cheered on the last runners to come in. We walked over to the water table and the first three runners got medals. I never expected any award but ended up walking away with a 5th place finish (I know, I know, 5th out of 8 runners). And to make things even better, I got a new PR. Not only a new PR for the trail, but one that's faster than my previous road PR. I'll take it.
Weather: Temps were about 40F but quickly warmed to 50F during the race. Sky was clear, sun was out, and there wasn't much wind.
Fluids and Fuel:
Two slices of toast and coffee before the run. Plain water during the run. Recovery was nothing.
Aches and Pains: Felt pretty good before, during, and after. Had that "gonna puke" feeling but it passed as I slowed down a bit.
Gear: Wore pants, shorts, thermal top, t-shirt, BUFF, and gloves. Ditched the pants before the race started. Ditched the BUFF after the second mile.
Today's Motivation: Aside from my mental need for a run, my body needed it too. My training has been horrid this week but I'm making wonderful progress on the attic insulation. And there was a little bit inside of me that wanted to surprise my coach.
Naughty Neil: This week has been horrible for my diet. I've eaten all of my emotions many times over. I'm afraid to get on the scale. But this race, this new PR, has given me that joy, that smile that I needed. I'm hoping it's enough to get my eating back on track.
Splits: (remember the miles are a little longer so they total 3.1 miles at the end)
Mile 1 - 10:00 Mile 2 - 10:42
Mile 3 - 10:11
Finish - 30:53 (new trail 5k PR, new 5k PR)
As I realize I've forgotten to post a lot of photos this month, I figured a recap was in order. So enjoy.
The end of July saw the completion of the deck replacement. It also meant we would finally close on the Round Hill house in August. It was our first home. And while I would love to say that we could keep it forever, our move to Fort Max was the right thing to do. Even though we've had struggles here, in the end, it's a far superior house.
I mean, how could NOT take a photo of a weeener out in public?!
Elizabeth helped create a Whomping Willow tree at the local book store. And I was supposed to find out if these books are worth reading.
I mean, it's Mike Wardian. What else do I need to say? And a fellow Oil Creek runner. And the last place finisher accepting the Musical Caboose award.
The first day of school.
Aside from a bunch of research, I'm also reliving my childhood when I see stuff like this at Goodwill.
And speaking of research, I get to learn about all sorts of stuff. Like Prince Michael Romanoff used to live in the area. He ended up being a Hollywood legend and was even a pallbearer for Erroll Flynn.
Despite the traffic, I actually enjoy picking Elizabeth up at middle school. Keeps reminding me of my high school days.
I mentioned the nostalgia of my childhood in the 80s, right?
A local surveyor lives in the neighborhood. Keep looking until you see it.
William appears to be reliving my childhood too.
Yes, I was in a band called the Fried Egg Yolks. No, I won't say who was in it with me. Not because it's a big secret, but more to protect the innocence of the other person. After all, we played together like two times and, well, let's just say I had no idea what I was doing with a guitar. Since he may not want to be associated with that particular moment of history, I'll allow him to keep his dignity. Not worried about mine. Make sure you read the paragraph again Yvonne. It's to protect him, not because I want to keep secrets from you.
So what does all of this lead up to? September. Where I can hopefully get my stuff organized enough to write the Prologue of my story. Here's a hint. My childhood home in Oxnard, CA.
Lots of pleasant excitement at work today. But more interesting is what I found in my research. First, King George County had a drive-in theater! Somewhere in the Arnold's Corner area (that's where Routes 3 and 206 intersect near the middle school that was the high school). And they showed movies every night. How cool!
Second, the Dahlgren Naval Base once operated on it's own time zone. As in, the high school bus would make a stop outside the base at 3pm, on the base at 2:10pm, then off the base at 3:15pm. Okay, so the times are just examples, but you get the idea. They were like Arizona is now and didn't recognize the whole Daylight Savings Time adjustment. Crazy!
Okay, on with today's run. I got out the door earlier than expected this morning which was great because I wasn't awake and my brain probably would have said nope to the run. But I did it and got outside. The weather felt decent during the first loop but muggier during the second. Didn't see much while I was out and about. Except my dad. He looked like he was just starting his walk as I was finishing mine.
Photos: That orange speck way up there is my dad.
Bus route time zone confusion.
King George Drive-In Movie Theater.
THIS is my favorite kind of traffic jam - picking the kid up from school.
Weather: Temps were about 70F at the start but probably warmed to 75F by the end. Humidity kicked up a bit from low to moderate. Sky was clear. No wind.
Fluids and Fuel: One coffee before the run. Plain water during the run. Recovery was three slices of toast, two eggs, and two sausage links. And more coffee.
Aches and Pains: None.
Gear: Wore shorts and a t-shirt.
Today's Motivation: I think I was too tired to be motivated this morning. Thought several times about just not finishing but I knew this was the only time I could finish so I finished.
Naughty Neil: Getting back on track with my food. It's a damn tough row to hoe but I think, THINK, I'm back on track.
Today was one of those days that I will hopefully remember for a while. It wasn't a huge day. NO major announcements. No good news or bad news. Just an undercurrent, a buzz, that went through the background of my brain for most of the day. I got a little nervous here and there but generally just pushed it aside. When I thought long and hard about the risks involved, I was able to give those nerves a solid shove.
In a good way.
As the title implies, I'm being vague about things. After taking one too many trips to Human Resources, I've seriously curtailed the content here and elsewhere. I'm now very close to the point of just not giving a rip. But that will come in due time.
Today's update is a step beyond vague because the feelings were, well, hard to latch on to. They were good feelings so that's at least semi-easy to clarify. Even as I drove to work this morning, I had these little epiphanies going off in my head like a really small fireworks display. Thoughts bursting here and there. I only managed to capture a few of them.
But like fireworks, even capturing them on film, or words in this case, doesn't do them justice. You can take thousands of photos in DC during the Fourth of July but you don't really capture the vibe of what it felt like to be there. You can take thousands of photos of the Grand Canyon, but until you go there, it's hard to capture the essence of how big it really is.
But like any photographer though, or writer, I'm going to try to capture today with a few images.
I sat through an orientation session and learned a lot. I was a little surprised that I didn't know some of what was there. President's nearly died. Planes landed where houses stand now. Computer programs were infected with "bugs" for the first time. As I sat at the desk, I gave all the wrong answers. And it felt great to be so open and honest and have the choice to say yes or no.
This is my mid-life crisis but I see it as a change and not a crisis. A change for the better. Like a moth leaving the cocoon or a Phoenix rising from the ashes, I want to be better. Stronger. I want to do the right thing. I want to do what's best for me. Do what's best for my family. Do
what's best for the world by making a contribution that's
more meaningful. I want the freedom to create. I want the freedom to do what I
want to do. As I near 40 years in this life, as I get closer to this mid-life crisis, I feel that I've earned the
right to do what I want.
Despite the photos I post here and elsewhere, I'm more than just a goofy face with a bad sense of humor. Deep down, there are raw emotions. This is going to bring up some of them, so if you're prone to crying, get a box of tissues. If you're like me and have a heart of stone, grab a few tissues anyway.
Prologue
I recently wrote about "the accident" I was in when I was a kid. I covered a lot of the basics of the story and it's a good place to start before reading this. So go ahead, read it, and then come back.
Just before Thanksgiving, I went to the office and started my day like I normally do. Because I was in a rush to get to work, I didn't check my phone for emails, messages, Instagram posts, etc. So when I got to work, I was surprised to see a new Facebook friend request. Surprised because it doesn't happen often. It wasn't anybody I knew, not a member of the KREndurance Team, and the only common thread I could find between us was that we've been to the Biltmore. I was about to delete the request when I decided, on a whim, to read the message she had sent.
Juliet's first Facebook message:
I just about shit a brick.
Her message gave enough detail to make me about 90% sure she was who she said she was and more importantly, she was somebody I've been looking for for decades.
After a few messages and emails, I was 100% sure of not only her identity, but I was also sure of her character. It was pretty easy to skim through her Facebook history and verify the details in the accident report. It was also easy to find the newspaper articles and death certificate for her mother. And reading about her story just made everything firm up. It was clear she wasn't a spammer.
Before I get too far ahead of myself, let's pause for a moment. My memory, my dad's, my mom's, they've all changed over time and there are conflicts. It's been 30 years, so I expect that. So if there's an inconsistency, well, time happens. But if you have first-hand knowledge of the event, then please feel free to chime in and clarify things. After all these years, I'm sure somebody got something wrong. Even in the past few weeks, I'm sure I've re-told things here incorrectly.
The Accident
Now, let's rewind to 1985. It was October 25th, a Friday. It was dinner time and my dad and I were eating at Roma's, a local restaurant in Dahlgren. I'm sure I had a gyro with Mr. Pibb and my dad had wing dings (aka chicken wings). This is the first discrepancy in the story. My dad remembers going across the river to get a new headlamp for the van. It's possible both versions are true because both would have put us on the same route back home. But I do know the lollipop came from Roma's so that part can be verified.
We traveled up the hill on Route 206, heading west toward home. As I said in my other post, I remember my dad shouting "oh shit" or "oh fuck" or "hold on." I looked left and saw headlights. I knew instantly from his tone of voice that we were having an accident and we'd hit the car. It was one of those moments where things are moving too fast to do anything but time slows things down to make everything vividly clear. I may or may not remember hitting the car itself. That part is a bit blurry. But I do clearly remember seeing the headlights. I was knocked unconscious by the impact.
This is a satellite view of the intersection. We were the green arrow. They were the grey arrow. The red circle and arrow show the point of impact and direction of travel afterwords.
When I came to, I tried to get out of the van. I couldn't. That's where I panicked a bit. I couldn't open my door. The van had hit the other car hard enough to slide the front quarter panel over top of the door, making it impossible for a 9 year old kid to open. Probably impossible for an adult to open too. I don't know if this was the moment I developed that claustrophobic fear of being trapped or if it was always there. But that split second of being trapped in the car is what scared me the most. Or at least what I remember scaring me the most. I'm sure watching all those Rambo movies and the A-Team with exploding cars didn't help.
I remember my dad having a calm and cool head and had me get out on his side of the van. Neither of us seemed to be seriously injured and were able to walk away from the crash. We got out, walked somewhere, and the rest is blurry to me. I'm pretty sure we walked over to the parking lot of the plumbing store/NAPA store.
From what my mom and dad tell me, the driver of the other car got out to check on us to make sure we were okay. He then went back to his car. I vaguely recall an EMT checking me out to make sure I was okay. My dad and I got a ride to the hospital from a friend. It was a husband and wife. The wife worked at the school as a secretary or in the cafeteria and knew us. The wife didn't want to take us in their car and wanted us to ride in the ambulance. I think my dad wasn't that worried about our injuries and thought it would be better to ride with them than in the back of the ambulance. More than likely, we would have had to ride with the passengers from the other car since King George County didn't have many rescue squad units at the time. Knowing my dad, he probably just wanted to get us to the hospital to be checked out but didn't want me to see the other people and he didn't want to wait for another unit to arrive. So the husband drove us. I remember none of that.
I do remember hearing the baby in the other car screaming at the scene. It bothers me even now but thankfully the memory has faded. You knew the baby was scared but I didn't know if it was hurt. I don't remember much else about the scene of the accident. I know I was moved to safety and we probably stood in the parking lot of what was then a plumbing store and NAPA store. I wasn't allowed near the other car. I'm sure there were lights and sirens but I don't remember much about them.
At the hospital, I vaguely recall getting an x-ray. I'm pretty sure I was on a gurney sitting in one of those hospital gowns. I think it was either here or at the accident scene when I felt embarrassed about my under-roos. Stupid Incredible Hulk.
My parents kept a personal record of my health. It's in a green journal book that has traveled with me for years. This is the entry for that night.
After the hospital sent us home, I called my mom. She knew right away something was wrong because it was late, like 9 pm, and she was on the west coast (she had recently moved to Madera, CA). She asked if I was okay, I said I was, she asked if dad was okay, he was, then she asked about the people in the other car. I told her the driver, the dad, had a few broken ribs, the daughter in the back seat had a broken pelvis and leg, and the baby in the car seat was just fine. But there was a "fatality." She asked me if I knew what that meant, I said it meant the lady died. She was surprised and asked more. She said I had apparently read it on the accident report. I don't remember reading an accident report and just assumed I had overheard the conversation between my dad and the police officers or fire/rescue workers either at the scene or at the hospital. Again, there's a discrepancy in the story here because my dad says he didn't fill out any reports at the scene and only filled one out for the insurance company later. I don't remember reading any report but suppose I could. Either way, I knew what "fatality" meant.
She knew something was wrong right away, partly because of my voice but mostly because of the time of day. She said I started the conversation with "I'm okay and Dad's okay but..." and then I went on to tell the story of the accident. She said I was amazed that the baby "didn't have a scratch." My mom also said I had marks on my hips from the seat belt and that dad had bruises on his arm. Mom wanted to talk to dad but my dad called her later after putting me to bed. She knew he was shaken and it had been a long and hard night. After getting a similar report from my dad, she specifically asked him if she was going to talk to me about death and the lady that died. He said I didn't know. My mom said he (meaning me) does know because I knew the word "fatality" (although it could have been the word "expired," again, another minor discrepancy). Even though my dad had done his best to shield me from seeing her body, reading anything that talked about it, or even overheard anything related to it.
A few days later I was talking to my mom again and she wanted to know how I knew what that word meant. Apparently I had seen my dad fill out the form and he put a 1 down and I somehow knew that meant the woman in the other car. Both of my parents thought that was stunning. So again, more discrepancies. Either way, it doesn't really matter.
The After Story
At some point after the accident, my dad and I went to see the two wrecked cars. I remember both the van and the car being in a lot off of 301, near where the ice cream shop is now. But the photos show the van in our driveway and only the other car in the grassy junk yard lot. After some discussion, my dad and I think he had the van towed to our house because he assumed he could repair it. After finding that the body had moved off the frame, he had it towed to the same lot as the other car and that's where we took more pictures. However it happened, I'm not sure. Of all the photos I've been able to look through, I only found four Polaroids, two for each car.
I do remember emptying out our belongings when the van was in our driveway. This is when we learned that I was knocked out because I hit my head on the dash. I used to ride on the edge of the seat and kept my seat belt loose because I liked to look out over the front of the hood at the road. When my head hit the dash, it left a crack a few inches long. We also learned that I had a lollipop because it was on the floor. I was a little freaked out about being a few inches from a more serious injury.
Because the van was so damaged, it was totaled. I remember my dad fixing his small black Ford Currier pick-up so he would have something to drive. He remembers borrowing a friend's truck to have something to drive.
These are the notes I took in about 1998 after looking through the photos. This is how I recalled the story back then. So a historical account of a historical account.
The Growing Mystery
Over time, I was always curious about the family in the other car. I wanted to know if they got their lives back together. I wanted to know if they healed after their mother died. I wanted to know if they held any hatred towards us for what happened. I wanted to know if they hated us or blamed us for what happened. I just wanted to know something.
I've talked to both my parents over the years about the accident. Nothing major developed and the stories were always the same. But the curiosity was always there. I think it's the same curiosity that drives me to learn more about my own family history. And based on the impact this accident had on my life, it made the family in the other car almost feel like cousins or a long lost branch on the family tree. But I could never figure out a name or put any sort of story behind their family down on paper. It was just a mystery.
October 26 and 29 articles from The Free Lance-Star newspaper. There was no Sunday paper in 1985 and no further articles could be found.
About a year ago I gained access to the state of Virginia's death records on Ancestry. I quickly spent a few days looking at how and when people died. People I knew. Childhood friends. Children of neighbors. It was a quick way to feel really shitty and depressed. So I quickly took a break and only occasionally searched for the mystery woman that died that night in the 1980s.
I knew the accident was in the 1980s, I knew roughly how old I was, I knew where the accident occurred, I knew it was the mother that died, I knew a lot. But I didn't know key details. I didn't know the exact date and I didn't know her name. When I searched, I learned that even though you may die in a certain place, sometimes your death certificate lists your place of death as the nearest hospital, especially when you're involved in a car accident. Despite learning about other people and about how to search, I still had an unsolved mystery. I couldn't find my family in the other car.
Until Juliet sent a friend request.
Mystery Solved
After getting Juliet's friend request and reading her email, I knew the mystery had been solved. She was the person I was looking for and I was over the moon that she found me. It was like a puzzle piece had been lost in 1985 and she found it.
That Tuesday before Thanksgiving was emotional on many levels. I was profoundly happy that she found me and that I could now learn what happened to those in the other car. But I was also deeply saddened to read her side of the story. I sat there at my desk and cried three different times as I learned more about her, her family, and what happened to them in the last 30 years.
An excerpt of the February 2013 Glamour magazine article about Juliet, her sister Jen, and her daughter Emma.
The Other Car
So what happened in the other car? I really should let Juliet tell this story but I'll fill in what I know so far.
Russell Wallace was the driver of the other car. His wife, Tien Kim Wallace was in the front passenger seat. Their daughters, Juliet and Jen, were in the back. Juliet was sitting behind her mother while Jen was in a car seat. Despite being the most fragile, Jen was remarkably unharmed by the impact. She was in a car seat. I remember telling my mom about how amazed I was that the baby was fine. That was a point in the story she reminded me of several times during our many conversations.
Mr. Wallace had some injuries, primarily broken ribs. Juliet had a broken pelvis or hips and I think a leg. She also said her head and face had injuries. Mrs. Wallace died. A wife and mother of two. According to the police report, the accident occurred between 8 and 8:15 pm. Virginia State Trooper D. F. Hatfield responded around 9 pm. Tien Kim Wallace was transported to the hospital and pronounced dead by Doctor Paul Hine at 9:38 pm.
Leading up to the crash, the Wallace family spent time at Ocean City and then Assateague Island. I would go into detail about the last few days of their lives before the crash but frankly, they make me want to weep just reading them again. So I'll move on.
I'm confused about how they ended up in King George. They lived in Woodbridge, VA at the time and our little po-dunk county isn't near any direct route back home from the Ocean City area. Even if they went down to Virginia Beach and then back north. We may never know the truth but the working theory I have is that they were lost and rushing to find a way back to a major road to get home. Route 301 was nearby and if he had continued on the road he was traveling, he would have gotten there near the bridge into Maryland. It wouldn't have been the best way to get home but it would have worked eventually.
Whatever the reasons were for being on that stretch of road are moot though. The dad ran the stop sign and we hit him. We can't change the past, only learn from it.
Juliet said the local fire and rescue members that responded to the scene would visit her in the hospital frequently as she recovered. Her mirrors were covered in newspaper so she couldn't see her face. She was transported to Fairfax for an MRI but spent most of her time at Mary Washington Hospital to recover. She was released from the hospital for her mother's funeral at Quantico National Cemetery. But she couldn't walk and had to stay in the van. Her mother was buried with military honors, presumably because her husband was in the military although some records I found show she was a Staff Sergeant in the Marines. She was listed as a "consultant" for Revlon "beauty products."
Commonwealth of Virginia - Certificate of Death - Tien Kim Wallace
Moving On
This is where the Wallace family's story takes a turn for the worse. After the accident, Juliet ran away from home. Her father was abusive so she left. She ended up homeless in Washington D. C. before finally coming home. Only to find her dad and sister gone. She went through the foster care system and got her life back on track thanks to a great foster family.
She lost track of her sister and father but eventually found them. When her father died, she reconnected with her sister who had also gone through the foster system for the same reasons. Once reunited, they ended up bonding in a unique way. Jen donated an egg so Juliet and her husband could have a child. Bizarre, amazing, and true.
Video from The Jeff Probst Show.
From what Juliet has said, it sounds like her dad didn't move on or heal very well after the accident. And while I don't think that was the right thing for him to do, I can't fault him for being distraught over the death of his wife. I don't know what I would do if I had to walk in his shoes. Sadly, the story he gave his children was that a drunk driver was driving the van and caused the accident.
Meeting Juliet
I just got back from meeting Juliet and her daughter Emma. It was surreal. I think it's not only surreal in the sense that we met, but that we found each other or even cared enough to want to meet. Dad and I met them at the local Sheetz and talked. I wasn't sure if it would be a 5 minute talk or a 5 hour talk. In the end, we spent about two hours there. We talked about the accident, life before it, and life after it. The conversation ranged from light to heavy and every where in between.
After a break all around, I led Juliet and her daughter down the road to the scene of the crash. Doing that was even more surreal than meeting her. After pointing things out and chatting, the weight of it all began to settle in on me. Not just that her mom died, but more that we've both been looking for each other and we've both been looking for answers to our questions. Our families came crashing together, literally, and here we are after 30 years meeting each other for the first time.
Some people surely think we're crazy for wanting to meet each other. But I think because we were both kids at the time and both needed to heal old wounds, and were ready to heal them, it was something we wanted, or even needed, to do. Some people may not understand why we would even care about what happens to each other. But there again, we both felt the need to find out what happened. And while I think we've solved the mystery behind a lot of things in this story, there are a few more questions that have come up.
Sunset at the scene.
The Mystery Returns
After doing some quick research and learning more from Juliet and my parents, there are new questions that come to mind. Even though it isn't my family or my truth to seek out, I wonder about things. Why was the family driving on that stretch of road? My guess is that they were lost and in a hurry to get back on track. Why was the mother buried with full military honors? My guess is that she worked for the American government during the Vietnam War and had earned it. What will happen next? This is the biggest pill to swallow for me because I've had this question hanging around for so long I don't know what to do now that I have the answer. My guess is that I'll keep in touch with Juliet and maybe find an answer to a few other smaller questions I have.
Video of the intersection the day before meeting Juliet.
Missed Connections
As time passed, the accident became a defining moment in my life. Not good, not bad, just a moment that has been with me ever since and still connects me to other people. Two years after this accident, my neighbor's wife died near the same area. My family and I moved into his house last year. I know where she's buried and have visited her grave to pay my respects. Because of her death, I almost always check to see if traffic is going to run a red light as I cross Route 301. Because of the 1985 accident, I have rules about lollipops. Because of every accident, I wear a seat belt.
Roma's used to be owned by the Kufadakis (sp?) family. We loved her bougatsa, a Greek pastry dessert. My family now frequents King George House of Pizza. The owners know the Kufadakis family and last year they made bougatsa for me. It was amazing. Roma's is now run by my childhood friend Scott Coleman.
Because of the lollipop, I do not allow lollipops to be consumed in the car. My son gets one after every haircut but he knows he can't have it in the car. Sounds like a crazy rule but it's one that's stuck with me. I don't think it was a rule for me after the accident but I do know I never really allowed myself to do it anymore.
Juliet's birthday is in between my daughter's and my wife's. Her husband's name is my mom's maiden name. We both like The Goldbergs. Sometimes it's the neat little things that connect us all.
About six or seven years after this accident, my dad had another one at the same intersection. Nearly identical scenario. This time he was in the Ford Currier pick-up, traveling in the same direction, when a guy pulled out of the NAPA store on the right side of the road. Again both cars were totaled, but this time nobody was hurt. I think about both accident every time I drive through the intersection. My dad tries to avoid it now, especially since VDOT has made improvements that actually make it more difficult and dangerous to drive through.
Video from December 5, 1991. The aftermath of the second accident.
Technical Details
A summary of sorts of all the specifics I could find. In case somebody else down the road is looking for information.
Date:
October 25, 1985 - Friday - 8pm
Location:
Owens, King George, VA
Intersection of Route 206, Dahlgren Road, and Route 218, Windsor Drive, and Route 624, Owens Drive
The Wallace Family:
1979 Honda CVCC four-door sedan - BSF-985
Russell C. Wallace
Tien Kim Wallace
Juliet (Wallace) Pearrell
Jen (Wallace) Kimble
The Richard Family:
1975 Ford Econoline Van - YJY-763
Gary Richard
Neil Richard
Other Individuals and Groups:
Virginia State Trooper D. F. Hatfield - 3518
Virginia State Trooper C. W. Carrico
King George Sheriff's Office
Dahlgren Rescue Squad
Dr. M. J. Goeden - Emergency Room, Mary Washington Hospital
Dr. Paul F. Hine - Pathology Department, Mary Washington Hospital
Richmond Low - Commonwealth's Attorney for King George County
Documents
Virginia State Police Report - October 28, 1985 - # 85-21-5175
Contact
If you have information about the accident, please contact me at tk42one @ gmail.com.
