Late one foggy night in the year 2009 in the mystical hills of Humboldt County, I found myself sharing tales of the unknown with my drinking buddies. Little did I know, our laughter echoed through the ears of the ancient and honorable order of the turtles. Intrigued by our camaraderie, a mysterious figure emerged – my future sponsor.

His eyes held the wisdom of generations, for he was made a turtle by his grandfather, an air force hero during World War Two. As the night unfolded, he spoke of a hidden brotherhood, one that met in the depths of an abandoned Masonic temple beneath the Veterans Affairs building in Vallejo, California.

In the clandestine basement, amidst the dimly lit chambers, I was initiated into the enigmatic order, where history and secrecy intertwined. The air was thick with the spirits of those who came before us, guiding us through rituals that transcended time.

As destiny beckoned, I pursued my studies at the California Maritime Academy, a journey that further fortified my bond with the turtles. The Masonic temple became a sanctuary where maritime cadets and veterans convened, sharing stories that wove the tapestry of our connections mainly via libations.

Graduation marked my return to the Bahamas, where I embraced the responsibility passed down through the ages. In the moonlit nights by the ocean, I now carry on the tradition of making turtles, preserving the ancient order's legacy. Each crafted turtle embodies the resilience, strength, and wisdom that binds us across borders and time – a testament to the enduring spirit of the honorable order of the turtles.