Charles Henry "Skip" Tuttle was born while our father was in the South Pacific during WWII. (The photo of a boy at a mailbox is Skip mailing a letter to his father). After the war, our father resigned his commission, our family moved to Bath, ME.
In 1947, separating from the US Army Air Corp, the US Air Force was formed. Our father was offered a commission, and he returned to military service. The family moved to Denver, CO. In Denver, Skip's brother William Chester was born in 1949. After being transferred to Barksdale AFB in Bosier City, LA, youngest brother Marcus Stephen was born in 1952. In 1954, our father, then a Lt Col, resigned his commission, and our family settled in Murray, KY.
The following was provided by Gerlinde (Magow) Lindy
I met Skip in the summer of 1954, when we were both ten years old . My parents and I had just moved to Murray, KY, where my father had taken a professorial position at what's now Murray State University. A couple of days after our move I was exploring our street wearing my usual jeans, plaid shirt and pigtails. I was admiring a big beech tree in a neighbor's front yard when a voice from the tree said "Hi down there, wanna come up?" Being a total tomboy and a veteran tree climber, I said "sure", and that was how I met Skip. He was about half way up the tree carving "Dan'l Boone killed a b'ar in this tree, 1774" into the trunk. He handed me a spare pocket knife so I could help. He said I could keep the knife, which I did. I had it for years.
For the four years we lived in Murray, Skip was my best friend. We celebrated our birthdays together, which were four days apart, our families went to the same church, his father was our family doctor. I spent a lot of time at his house, often staying for dinner. I think his mom liked having a girl around, though I wasn't much of one. Skip and I played board games, as well as war games with his impressive collection of fake but very real looking WWII Lugers (in retrospect a strange thing for me to do, being a German immigrant child). Many a Sunday afternoon we sat on the floor at his house leaning against a hassock watching Hallmark Hall of Fame dramas on TV—my family didn't have a TV, so that was a treat for me.
I loved Skip's mom, who was the soul of patience with her three boys and with this tomboy. One year she took Skip and me on a road trip to Nashville to see the Hermitage, and then on to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had never been on such a trip and will never forget that first time seeing the mountains, staying in Gatlinburg next to the roaring Little Pigeon River, and on the way home experiencing pistachio ice cream at famous Howard Johnson's, with their 26 ice cream flavors.
Another memory involving Skip's mom: One Halloween Skip and I were going to a party the town had arranged for all the kids—games, apple bobbing, the works. We all had to wear costumes, of course. Mrs. Tuttle thought it would be great fun for Skip and me to go as Mammy and Pappy Yokum, of L'il Abner fame. She had the costumes and the full-head masks, which, of course, were funny, but pretty ugly. Mammy had a huge nose and smoked a pipe. Well, being 11 years old, I had my heart set on going as a princess or a glamorous gypsy, but I didn't want to disappoint Skip's mom, so, miserably, I went to the party as Mammy Yokum, thankful that under my mask no one would recognize me. I was so mortified that I didn't participate in any of the activities, but moped on the edge of the festivities, more or less hiding behind some hay bales. Skip thought I wasn't feeling well, and was worried about me. He enjoyed the party as Pappy Yokum, but kept checking on me and bringing me things to eat, like the good friend that he was!
In summers and on weekends during the school year Skip and I spent a lot of time roaming around our small town and around the surrounding countryside on our bicycles. We collected rocks and dammed up small creeks, caught turtles and crawdads, climbed trees and picked persimmons. We went through a phase when we wandered around playing our harmonicas. We each had a small Hohner and played old favorites, like Oh Susannah and On Top of Old Smoky, with gusto.
And then there was the beginning of Skip's snake phase, which went on for many years, as I understand. At some point, maybe in our 12th year, Skip acquired a rat snake, a black snake and a blue racer, all of which he kept in cages in his room. We would go out around dusk to catch frogs to feed to the snakes. There was a time when a bag full of frogs got out in his room. It took us quite a while to catch them all, probably because we were laughing so hard. A couple of times we each wound a snake around our neck and rode our bikes through town, to the horror of passersby.
Skip was always full of ideas for interesting things to do, especially if there was harmless mischief involved. He read widely, even as a child, and knew a lot of things beyond his age.
Then we hit 13. I remember something shifting a little, the tomboy giving way to the dim realization that I was a girl, and Skip, lo and behold, was a boy. Nothing changed much between us, except that suddenly we were having long, almost nightly phone conversations about I can't for the life of me remember what. We did look at each other a little differently occasionally and became shy about any accidental touching, but pretty much chose to ignore any harbingers of possible change in the relationship. It all came to an end, anyway, in our 14th year, when I was sent abroad to school for a year. While I was away Skip and I wrote to each other a couple of times, but that dwindled, what with all the preoccupations of being teenagers on different continents. During my year abroad my parents moved to another city, considerably distant from Murray.
I never saw Skip again, and learned recently, to my great sorrow, that I never would.
Rest in peace, my friend! Gerlinde (Megow) Lindy
Skip had a meticulous and inquisitive nature, a love of all wildlife and nature. The entire family quickly grew to love nearby Kentucky Lake. Our family built a summer home on the lake, we typically lived there from March through October. Skip graduated high school from Kentucky Military Institute, then college from Clark University with a BS in Geology. During the high school and college summers, Skip commercial fished on Kentucky Lake, running as many as 24 trotlines daily. I worked for him. He was a tough boss, but also very attentive to developing his and my knowledge and appreciation of all wildlife. Those summers at the lake are without a doubt some of the most enjoyable, learning and rewarding times in my life. I would repair the trot lines, often clean the daily catch, help round up bait (Katalpa worms were a favorite) and of course helped to care for and play with his numerous pet snakes. On one drive to the lake, Skip spotted a snake crossing the road. He stopped, ran into the woods, and a few minutes later got back to the car with a 5' hog nose snake wrapped up around his left arm. We continued our drive to the cabin, Skip, holding the snake within his left hand, steering with his right arm, and I shifted the gears on his command. When he caught a 35 pound catfish, he put the head in the glove compartment of his car, with a can opener holding the mouth open. On a date that night, he asked his girlfriend to get the can opener out of the dash. You can imagine her response! I can remember numerous times when our mother would be doing housework, we would hear her scream; one of Skip's snakes had escaped their cage, and was found in a bed our mother was attempting to make.
Our parents divorced just before Skip graduated from college, and he did not take it well. After graduation, he took a commission into the Army Corp of Engineers. He was stationed in Iran, at his request, I believe to get away. He worked on several dam construction projects for several years. After his service in the Army, he stayed in Iran teaching English and translating for several organizations. During that time, he sent a photo of himself standing in front of a "gobar hut", in which he lived. Our mother did not recognize him! He married an Iranian, Suzy Der Hacopian; they had 3 sons while in Iran: Charlie, and twins Michael and George. Our father passed away in 1976, and I think Skip started to feel guilty about running away from the family. Skip moved his family to Denver, Co but still had very little contact with the family. During their first visit, his three sons, elementary school age, spoke 4 languages. They could not believe that I only spoke one language. Skip started having some mental health problems: bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Skip and Suzy divorced in 1984, and Skip did some prison time for assaults on co-workers. There was a period of about 10 years when he lived in the same city as his three sons, but they never saw each other. He was later diagnosed with ALS, which is what eventually took his life in 2013.
Skip was an incredible big brother, those summers at the lake are some of my most precious memories. It truly is sad that his final years on this earth were destroyed by mental illness. May you rest in peace my loving and caring brother!
Marc Tuttle
In 1947, separating from the US Army Air Corp, the US Air Force was formed. Our father was offered a commission, and he returned to military service. The family moved to Denver, CO. In Denver, Skip's brother William Chester was born in 1949. After being transferred to Barksdale AFB in Bosier City, LA, youngest brother Marcus Stephen was born in 1952. In 1954, our father, then a Lt Col, resigned his commission, and our family settled in Murray, KY.
The following was provided by Gerlinde (Magow) Lindy
I met Skip in the summer of 1954, when we were both ten years old . My parents and I had just moved to Murray, KY, where my father had taken a professorial position at what's now Murray State University. A couple of days after our move I was exploring our street wearing my usual jeans, plaid shirt and pigtails. I was admiring a big beech tree in a neighbor's front yard when a voice from the tree said "Hi down there, wanna come up?" Being a total tomboy and a veteran tree climber, I said "sure", and that was how I met Skip. He was about half way up the tree carving "Dan'l Boone killed a b'ar in this tree, 1774" into the trunk. He handed me a spare pocket knife so I could help. He said I could keep the knife, which I did. I had it for years.
For the four years we lived in Murray, Skip was my best friend. We celebrated our birthdays together, which were four days apart, our families went to the same church, his father was our family doctor. I spent a lot of time at his house, often staying for dinner. I think his mom liked having a girl around, though I wasn't much of one. Skip and I played board games, as well as war games with his impressive collection of fake but very real looking WWII Lugers (in retrospect a strange thing for me to do, being a German immigrant child). Many a Sunday afternoon we sat on the floor at his house leaning against a hassock watching Hallmark Hall of Fame dramas on TV—my family didn't have a TV, so that was a treat for me.
I loved Skip's mom, who was the soul of patience with her three boys and with this tomboy. One year she took Skip and me on a road trip to Nashville to see the Hermitage, and then on to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had never been on such a trip and will never forget that first time seeing the mountains, staying in Gatlinburg next to the roaring Little Pigeon River, and on the way home experiencing pistachio ice cream at famous Howard Johnson's, with their 26 ice cream flavors.
Another memory involving Skip's mom: One Halloween Skip and I were going to a party the town had arranged for all the kids—games, apple bobbing, the works. We all had to wear costumes, of course. Mrs. Tuttle thought it would be great fun for Skip and me to go as Mammy and Pappy Yokum, of L'il Abner fame. She had the costumes and the full-head masks, which, of course, were funny, but pretty ugly. Mammy had a huge nose and smoked a pipe. Well, being 11 years old, I had my heart set on going as a princess or a glamorous gypsy, but I didn't want to disappoint Skip's mom, so, miserably, I went to the party as Mammy Yokum, thankful that under my mask no one would recognize me. I was so mortified that I didn't participate in any of the activities, but moped on the edge of the festivities, more or less hiding behind some hay bales. Skip thought I wasn't feeling well, and was worried about me. He enjoyed the party as Pappy Yokum, but kept checking on me and bringing me things to eat, like the good friend that he was!
In summers and on weekends during the school year Skip and I spent a lot of time roaming around our small town and around the surrounding countryside on our bicycles. We collected rocks and dammed up small creeks, caught turtles and crawdads, climbed trees and picked persimmons. We went through a phase when we wandered around playing our harmonicas. We each had a small Hohner and played old favorites, like Oh Susannah and On Top of Old Smoky, with gusto.
And then there was the beginning of Skip's snake phase, which went on for many years, as I understand. At some point, maybe in our 12th year, Skip acquired a rat snake, a black snake and a blue racer, all of which he kept in cages in his room. We would go out around dusk to catch frogs to feed to the snakes. There was a time when a bag full of frogs got out in his room. It took us quite a while to catch them all, probably because we were laughing so hard. A couple of times we each wound a snake around our neck and rode our bikes through town, to the horror of passersby.
Skip was always full of ideas for interesting things to do, especially if there was harmless mischief involved. He read widely, even as a child, and knew a lot of things beyond his age.
Then we hit 13. I remember something shifting a little, the tomboy giving way to the dim realization that I was a girl, and Skip, lo and behold, was a boy. Nothing changed much between us, except that suddenly we were having long, almost nightly phone conversations about I can't for the life of me remember what. We did look at each other a little differently occasionally and became shy about any accidental touching, but pretty much chose to ignore any harbingers of possible change in the relationship. It all came to an end, anyway, in our 14th year, when I was sent abroad to school for a year. While I was away Skip and I wrote to each other a couple of times, but that dwindled, what with all the preoccupations of being teenagers on different continents. During my year abroad my parents moved to another city, considerably distant from Murray.
I never saw Skip again, and learned recently, to my great sorrow, that I never would.
Rest in peace, my friend! Gerlinde (Megow) Lindy
Skip had a meticulous and inquisitive nature, a love of all wildlife and nature. The entire family quickly grew to love nearby Kentucky Lake. Our family built a summer home on the lake, we typically lived there from March through October. Skip graduated high school from Kentucky Military Institute, then college from Clark University with a BS in Geology. During the high school and college summers, Skip commercial fished on Kentucky Lake, running as many as 24 trotlines daily. I worked for him. He was a tough boss, but also very attentive to developing his and my knowledge and appreciation of all wildlife. Those summers at the lake are without a doubt some of the most enjoyable, learning and rewarding times in my life. I would repair the trot lines, often clean the daily catch, help round up bait (Katalpa worms were a favorite) and of course helped to care for and play with his numerous pet snakes. On one drive to the lake, Skip spotted a snake crossing the road. He stopped, ran into the woods, and a few minutes later got back to the car with a 5' hog nose snake wrapped up around his left arm. We continued our drive to the cabin, Skip, holding the snake within his left hand, steering with his right arm, and I shifted the gears on his command. When he caught a 35 pound catfish, he put the head in the glove compartment of his car, with a can opener holding the mouth open. On a date that night, he asked his girlfriend to get the can opener out of the dash. You can imagine her response! I can remember numerous times when our mother would be doing housework, we would hear her scream; one of Skip's snakes had escaped their cage, and was found in a bed our mother was attempting to make.
Our parents divorced just before Skip graduated from college, and he did not take it well. After graduation, he took a commission into the Army Corp of Engineers. He was stationed in Iran, at his request, I believe to get away. He worked on several dam construction projects for several years. After his service in the Army, he stayed in Iran teaching English and translating for several organizations. During that time, he sent a photo of himself standing in front of a "gobar hut", in which he lived. Our mother did not recognize him! He married an Iranian, Suzy Der Hacopian; they had 3 sons while in Iran: Charlie, and twins Michael and George. Our father passed away in 1976, and I think Skip started to feel guilty about running away from the family. Skip moved his family to Denver, Co but still had very little contact with the family. During their first visit, his three sons, elementary school age, spoke 4 languages. They could not believe that I only spoke one language. Skip started having some mental health problems: bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Skip and Suzy divorced in 1984, and Skip did some prison time for assaults on co-workers. There was a period of about 10 years when he lived in the same city as his three sons, but they never saw each other. He was later diagnosed with ALS, which is what eventually took his life in 2013.
Skip was an incredible big brother, those summers at the lake are some of my most precious memories. It truly is sad that his final years on this earth were destroyed by mental illness. May you rest in peace my loving and caring brother!
Marc Tuttle
Charles Henry "Skip" Tuttle was born while our father was in the South Pacific during WWII. (The photo of a boy at a mailbox is Skip mailing a letter to his father). After the war, our father resigned his commission, our family moved to Bath, ME.
In 1947, separating from the US Army Air Corp, the US Air Force was formed. Our father was offered a commission, and he returned to military service. The family moved to Denver, CO. In Denver, Skip's brother William Chester was born in 1949. After being transferred to Barksdale AFB in Bosier City, LA, youngest brother Marcus Stephen was born in 1952. In 1954, our father, then a Lt Col, resigned his commission, and our family settled in Murray, KY.
The following was provided by Gerlinde (Magow) Lindy
I met Skip in the summer of 1954, when we were both ten years old . My parents and I had just moved to Murray, KY, where my father had taken a professorial position at what's now Murray State University. A couple of days after our move I was exploring our street wearing my usual jeans, plaid shirt and pigtails. I was admiring a big beech tree in a neighbor's front yard when a voice from the tree said "Hi down there, wanna come up?" Being a total tomboy and a veteran tree climber, I said "sure", and that was how I met Skip. He was about half way up the tree carving "Dan'l Boone killed a b'ar in this tree, 1774" into the trunk. He handed me a spare pocket knife so I could help. He said I could keep the knife, which I did. I had it for years.
For the four years we lived in Murray, Skip was my best friend. We celebrated our birthdays together, which were four days apart, our families went to the same church, his father was our family doctor. I spent a lot of time at his house, often staying for dinner. I think his mom liked having a girl around, though I wasn't much of one. Skip and I played board games, as well as war games with his impressive collection of fake but very real looking WWII Lugers (in retrospect a strange thing for me to do, being a German immigrant child). Many a Sunday afternoon we sat on the floor at his house leaning against a hassock watching Hallmark Hall of Fame dramas on TV—my family didn't have a TV, so that was a treat for me.
I loved Skip's mom, who was the soul of patience with her three boys and with this tomboy. One year she took Skip and me on a road trip to Nashville to see the Hermitage, and then on to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had never been on such a trip and will never forget that first time seeing the mountains, staying in Gatlinburg next to the roaring Little Pigeon River, and on the way home experiencing pistachio ice cream at famous Howard Johnson's, with their 26 ice cream flavors.
Another memory involving Skip's mom: One Halloween Skip and I were going to a party the town had arranged for all the kids—games, apple bobbing, the works. We all had to wear costumes, of course. Mrs. Tuttle thought it would be great fun for Skip and me to go as Mammy and Pappy Yokum, of L'il Abner fame. She had the costumes and the full-head masks, which, of course, were funny, but pretty ugly. Mammy had a huge nose and smoked a pipe. Well, being 11 years old, I had my heart set on going as a princess or a glamorous gypsy, but I didn't want to disappoint Skip's mom, so, miserably, I went to the party as Mammy Yokum, thankful that under my mask no one would recognize me. I was so mortified that I didn't participate in any of the activities, but moped on the edge of the festivities, more or less hiding behind some hay bales. Skip thought I wasn't feeling well, and was worried about me. He enjoyed the party as Pappy Yokum, but kept checking on me and bringing me things to eat, like the good friend that he was!
In summers and on weekends during the school year Skip and I spent a lot of time roaming around our small town and around the surrounding countryside on our bicycles. We collected rocks and dammed up small creeks, caught turtles and crawdads, climbed trees and picked persimmons. We went through a phase when we wandered around playing our harmonicas. We each had a small Hohner and played old favorites, like Oh Susannah and On Top of Old Smoky, with gusto.
And then there was the beginning of Skip's snake phase, which went on for many years, as I understand. At some point, maybe in our 12th year, Skip acquired a rat snake, a black snake and a blue racer, all of which he kept in cages in his room. We would go out around dusk to catch frogs to feed to the snakes. There was a time when a bag full of frogs got out in his room. It took us quite a while to catch them all, probably because we were laughing so hard. A couple of times we each wound a snake around our neck and rode our bikes through town, to the horror of passersby.
Skip was always full of ideas for interesting things to do, especially if there was harmless mischief involved. He read widely, even as a child, and knew a lot of things beyond his age.
Then we hit 13. I remember something shifting a little, the tomboy giving way to the dim realization that I was a girl, and Skip, lo and behold, was a boy. Nothing changed much between us, except that suddenly we were having long, almost nightly phone conversations about I can't for the life of me remember what. We did look at each other a little differently occasionally and became shy about any accidental touching, but pretty much chose to ignore any harbingers of possible change in the relationship. It all came to an end, anyway, in our 14th year, when I was sent abroad to school for a year. While I was away Skip and I wrote to each other a couple of times, but that dwindled, what with all the preoccupations of being teenagers on different continents. During my year abroad my parents moved to another city, considerably distant from Murray.
I never saw Skip again, and learned recently, to my great sorrow, that I never would.
Rest in peace, my friend! Gerlinde (Megow) Lindy
Skip had a meticulous and inquisitive nature, a love of all wildlife and nature. The entire family quickly grew to love nearby Kentucky Lake. Our family built a summer home on the lake, we typically lived there from March through October. Skip graduated high school from Kentucky Military Institute, then college from Clark University with a BS in Geology. During the high school and college summers, Skip commercial fished on Kentucky Lake, running as many as 24 trotlines daily. I worked for him. He was a tough boss, but also very attentive to developing his and my knowledge and appreciation of all wildlife. Those summers at the lake are without a doubt some of the most enjoyable, learning and rewarding times in my life. I would repair the trot lines, often clean the daily catch, help round up bait (Katalpa worms were a favorite) and of course helped to care for and play with his numerous pet snakes. On one drive to the lake, Skip spotted a snake crossing the road. He stopped, ran into the woods, and a few minutes later got back to the car with a 5' hog nose snake wrapped up around his left arm. We continued our drive to the cabin, Skip, holding the snake within his left hand, steering with his right arm, and I shifted the gears on his command. When he caught a 35 pound catfish, he put the head in the glove compartment of his car, with a can opener holding the mouth open. On a date that night, he asked his girlfriend to get the can opener out of the dash. You can imagine her response! I can remember numerous times when our mother would be doing housework, we would hear her scream; one of Skip's snakes had escaped their cage, and was found in a bed our mother was attempting to make.
Our parents divorced just before Skip graduated from college, and he did not take it well. After graduation, he took a commission into the Army Corp of Engineers. He was stationed in Iran, at his request, I believe to get away. He worked on several dam construction projects for several years. After his service in the Army, he stayed in Iran teaching English and translating for several organizations. During that time, he sent a photo of himself standing in front of a "gobar hut", in which he lived. Our mother did not recognize him! He married an Iranian, Suzy Der Hacopian; they had 3 sons while in Iran: Charlie, and twins Michael and George. Our father passed away in 1976, and I think Skip started to feel guilty about running away from the family. Skip moved his family to Denver, Co but still had very little contact with the family. During their first visit, his three sons, elementary school age, spoke 4 languages. They could not believe that I only spoke one language. Skip started having some mental health problems: bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Skip and Suzy divorced in 1984, and Skip did some prison time for assaults on co-workers. There was a period of about 10 years when he lived in the same city as his three sons, but they never saw each other. He was later diagnosed with ALS, which is what eventually took his life in 2013.
Skip was an incredible big brother, those summers at the lake are some of my most precious memories. It truly is sad that his final years on this earth were destroyed by mental illness. May you rest in peace my loving and caring brother!
Marc Tuttle
In 1947, separating from the US Army Air Corp, the US Air Force was formed. Our father was offered a commission, and he returned to military service. The family moved to Denver, CO. In Denver, Skip's brother William Chester was born in 1949. After being transferred to Barksdale AFB in Bosier City, LA, youngest brother Marcus Stephen was born in 1952. In 1954, our father, then a Lt Col, resigned his commission, and our family settled in Murray, KY.
The following was provided by Gerlinde (Magow) Lindy
I met Skip in the summer of 1954, when we were both ten years old . My parents and I had just moved to Murray, KY, where my father had taken a professorial position at what's now Murray State University. A couple of days after our move I was exploring our street wearing my usual jeans, plaid shirt and pigtails. I was admiring a big beech tree in a neighbor's front yard when a voice from the tree said "Hi down there, wanna come up?" Being a total tomboy and a veteran tree climber, I said "sure", and that was how I met Skip. He was about half way up the tree carving "Dan'l Boone killed a b'ar in this tree, 1774" into the trunk. He handed me a spare pocket knife so I could help. He said I could keep the knife, which I did. I had it for years.
For the four years we lived in Murray, Skip was my best friend. We celebrated our birthdays together, which were four days apart, our families went to the same church, his father was our family doctor. I spent a lot of time at his house, often staying for dinner. I think his mom liked having a girl around, though I wasn't much of one. Skip and I played board games, as well as war games with his impressive collection of fake but very real looking WWII Lugers (in retrospect a strange thing for me to do, being a German immigrant child). Many a Sunday afternoon we sat on the floor at his house leaning against a hassock watching Hallmark Hall of Fame dramas on TV—my family didn't have a TV, so that was a treat for me.
I loved Skip's mom, who was the soul of patience with her three boys and with this tomboy. One year she took Skip and me on a road trip to Nashville to see the Hermitage, and then on to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I had never been on such a trip and will never forget that first time seeing the mountains, staying in Gatlinburg next to the roaring Little Pigeon River, and on the way home experiencing pistachio ice cream at famous Howard Johnson's, with their 26 ice cream flavors.
Another memory involving Skip's mom: One Halloween Skip and I were going to a party the town had arranged for all the kids—games, apple bobbing, the works. We all had to wear costumes, of course. Mrs. Tuttle thought it would be great fun for Skip and me to go as Mammy and Pappy Yokum, of L'il Abner fame. She had the costumes and the full-head masks, which, of course, were funny, but pretty ugly. Mammy had a huge nose and smoked a pipe. Well, being 11 years old, I had my heart set on going as a princess or a glamorous gypsy, but I didn't want to disappoint Skip's mom, so, miserably, I went to the party as Mammy Yokum, thankful that under my mask no one would recognize me. I was so mortified that I didn't participate in any of the activities, but moped on the edge of the festivities, more or less hiding behind some hay bales. Skip thought I wasn't feeling well, and was worried about me. He enjoyed the party as Pappy Yokum, but kept checking on me and bringing me things to eat, like the good friend that he was!
In summers and on weekends during the school year Skip and I spent a lot of time roaming around our small town and around the surrounding countryside on our bicycles. We collected rocks and dammed up small creeks, caught turtles and crawdads, climbed trees and picked persimmons. We went through a phase when we wandered around playing our harmonicas. We each had a small Hohner and played old favorites, like Oh Susannah and On Top of Old Smoky, with gusto.
And then there was the beginning of Skip's snake phase, which went on for many years, as I understand. At some point, maybe in our 12th year, Skip acquired a rat snake, a black snake and a blue racer, all of which he kept in cages in his room. We would go out around dusk to catch frogs to feed to the snakes. There was a time when a bag full of frogs got out in his room. It took us quite a while to catch them all, probably because we were laughing so hard. A couple of times we each wound a snake around our neck and rode our bikes through town, to the horror of passersby.
Skip was always full of ideas for interesting things to do, especially if there was harmless mischief involved. He read widely, even as a child, and knew a lot of things beyond his age.
Then we hit 13. I remember something shifting a little, the tomboy giving way to the dim realization that I was a girl, and Skip, lo and behold, was a boy. Nothing changed much between us, except that suddenly we were having long, almost nightly phone conversations about I can't for the life of me remember what. We did look at each other a little differently occasionally and became shy about any accidental touching, but pretty much chose to ignore any harbingers of possible change in the relationship. It all came to an end, anyway, in our 14th year, when I was sent abroad to school for a year. While I was away Skip and I wrote to each other a couple of times, but that dwindled, what with all the preoccupations of being teenagers on different continents. During my year abroad my parents moved to another city, considerably distant from Murray.
I never saw Skip again, and learned recently, to my great sorrow, that I never would.
Rest in peace, my friend! Gerlinde (Megow) Lindy
Skip had a meticulous and inquisitive nature, a love of all wildlife and nature. The entire family quickly grew to love nearby Kentucky Lake. Our family built a summer home on the lake, we typically lived there from March through October. Skip graduated high school from Kentucky Military Institute, then college from Clark University with a BS in Geology. During the high school and college summers, Skip commercial fished on Kentucky Lake, running as many as 24 trotlines daily. I worked for him. He was a tough boss, but also very attentive to developing his and my knowledge and appreciation of all wildlife. Those summers at the lake are without a doubt some of the most enjoyable, learning and rewarding times in my life. I would repair the trot lines, often clean the daily catch, help round up bait (Katalpa worms were a favorite) and of course helped to care for and play with his numerous pet snakes. On one drive to the lake, Skip spotted a snake crossing the road. He stopped, ran into the woods, and a few minutes later got back to the car with a 5' hog nose snake wrapped up around his left arm. We continued our drive to the cabin, Skip, holding the snake within his left hand, steering with his right arm, and I shifted the gears on his command. When he caught a 35 pound catfish, he put the head in the glove compartment of his car, with a can opener holding the mouth open. On a date that night, he asked his girlfriend to get the can opener out of the dash. You can imagine her response! I can remember numerous times when our mother would be doing housework, we would hear her scream; one of Skip's snakes had escaped their cage, and was found in a bed our mother was attempting to make.
Our parents divorced just before Skip graduated from college, and he did not take it well. After graduation, he took a commission into the Army Corp of Engineers. He was stationed in Iran, at his request, I believe to get away. He worked on several dam construction projects for several years. After his service in the Army, he stayed in Iran teaching English and translating for several organizations. During that time, he sent a photo of himself standing in front of a "gobar hut", in which he lived. Our mother did not recognize him! He married an Iranian, Suzy Der Hacopian; they had 3 sons while in Iran: Charlie, and twins Michael and George. Our father passed away in 1976, and I think Skip started to feel guilty about running away from the family. Skip moved his family to Denver, Co but still had very little contact with the family. During their first visit, his three sons, elementary school age, spoke 4 languages. They could not believe that I only spoke one language. Skip started having some mental health problems: bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Skip and Suzy divorced in 1984, and Skip did some prison time for assaults on co-workers. There was a period of about 10 years when he lived in the same city as his three sons, but they never saw each other. He was later diagnosed with ALS, which is what eventually took his life in 2013.
Skip was an incredible big brother, those summers at the lake are some of my most precious memories. It truly is sad that his final years on this earth were destroyed by mental illness. May you rest in peace my loving and caring brother!
Marc Tuttle
