My mother died.
Good evening, Redwing fans.
Last week I attended a business meeting with my brothers and sisters. The hatred for me in the room by some of them was unbelievable.
Truth be told, I don’t like me either. I don’t like who I’ve become. Left feeling abandon by my family for 14 years. Not feeling well for a long time, I stopped working. Then becoming homeless and in the hospital on IV antibiotics over and over again has taken a toll on me.
I’ve become someone I’m ashamed of. I’m angry all the time. I feel alone. I hate this feeling.
I contacted the wonderful lady that started the GoFundMe thing and told her I was ashamed for being irresponsible and taking it out on her because I feel my family turned their backs on me! Because of money? Jealous of me? Or maybe because they see me as disabled?
I don’t know why the family hates me?
I am going to hire a Lawyer, but I’m not going to sue at this time nor am I going to contact the Mining Journal.
I don’t want to be that kind of person.
Since money is so important to the O’Dovero family, their spouses and children that they can invest my insurance money into the family empire without putting my name on anything and now leave me homeless. They watch my health deteriorate to the point where my friends find me living in a van so sick that they call an ambulance and yet, they disown me?
I don’t want to fight a family like that.
Mom, dad, Connie, Petsy, Jean, John, Jim, Joe, Paul and your families, you win! YOU WIN!
I do need to say this before I stop writing in this blog for a while, because I feel the O’Dovero family thinks, as I did, that I’m receiving $7,000 a month from the trust. I’m not!
Jim told me I was getting a $7,000 per month distribution from the trust. While he calls it a distribution, I just found out it’s not! It’s actually a return of capital. Jim is just like my father 40 years earlier. My father did the same thing. While he was giving me a taxable payment of $14,000 a year allowance to live on, because it wasn’t enough, he gave me additional monies.
A return of capital.
My $700,000 check from the insurance company, which became my capital investment into the O’Dovero family empire, was reduced dollar for dollar for all the money I received over the $14,000. By the time my dad finally gave me my capital investment into the O’Dovero empire back, it shrank from the $700,000 investment, to just a little over $200,000.
Jim is doing the same thing to me. I wrote the trust so all 9 children had an equal 1/9 ownership. That’s approximately 11.11% ownership for each of us. While Jim is calling the $7,000 a month a distribution, it’s actually a return of capital. At the end of the year, I will no longer have an equal 1/9 (a little over 11%) ownership or stake in the trust. It will drop down into the 10% range, and over time, 9%, then 8% and so on. And like my father before him, Jim, my other brother’s and sister’s ownership in the trust will increase. At the end of the day, the ownership in the trust has to equal 100%. If my ownership decreases, it stands to reason, Jim and the rest of the family’s ownership will increase to 12%, 13%, 14% and so on.
Since I’ve been disowned by my mother and father, the trust I started for my brothers, sisters, their families, and myself is all the money I have to look forward to from the family. I’m not in my father’s will. I’m not in my mother’s will. I was stupid and gave my ownership of Midway Rentals to my brothers and sister for free. I’ve asked for it back, but it’s never going to happen. I was never given any shares of Westwood Lands, so I do not have that to look forward to. My insurance money was never invested in my name. My $1/2 million dollar coin collection was stolen. The only inheritance I have to look forward to is the trust, and Jim is reducing my ownership in that towards zero just as fast as he can. And the O’Dovero family hates me?
Petsy, Connie and Joe hate me like you couldn’t believe. Jim told me that all he’ll ever do for me is what he is required by Law, his fiduciary duties as 1 of 3 trustees of the trust. The trust I wrote and put into motion for them. Jim, nor no one else will fight for me or allow me to share in my father’s estate, my mother’s estate, Midway Rentals or Westwood Lands.
I’m now on blood thinners for blood clots in my leg. I have a history of bleeding ulcers. If they flare up again while I’m on blood thinners, I’m as good as dead.
Even though I’m going to lose out on 10’s of millions of dollars if I don’t fight for it, I don’t want to die fighting for it!
I want my body to heal.
So, O’Dovero family, you win!
You can tell yourselves, your friends, God and the world that you hate me because of this blog.
I didn’t have this blog 40+ years ago when dad invested all my money in the family empire and didn’t put my name on any of it.
I was just a 17-year-old child that was paralyzed from the chest down, but I guess I should have put up a better fight back then.
I didn’t have this blog 35 years ago when I asked my mother and father for money to go to college and they said no.
I didn’t have this blog when Jim, Connie, Petsy, Joe, Jeannie, Jay and Paul came to me in 1994 and crushed my dreams. They didn’t even have enough respect to ask me what they were. They just told me what they were going to give me and if I didn’t like it, I was the evil one.
I didn’t have this blog when they allowed Connie to tell lies about me in 2004, tell dad he didn’t owe me any money or even talk to me.
I didn’t have this blog when they decided to disown me and stop talking to me for 14 years.
The O’Dovero family has been turning their backs on me financially for 40+ years.
This blog is just their latest justification.
If I didn’t talk about the family in this blog, they would have found a different reason to hate me or Connie would have invented one.
For 2 ½ years, all I asked for was a motorhome to live in. I was even willing to work for it.
All I ever wanted was a place to live and to be part of a family.
I guess I was asking for too much!
I’m sorry all you good people had to see me like this. But, I’m afraid of dying. I couldn’t let that happen without you knowing the real story. I needed to tell you the behind-the-scenes truth about the money I invested into the O’Dovero empire when I was a paralyzed 17-year-old child. How the family invested my $700,000 for themselves and never used it to build me 2 houses of my dreams (A summer house in Marquette and a winter house in the South) and invest it so I would have a steady proper income to live on. The truth how the family created a united front against me, so I never had a chance against them. I didn’t want you to think of me or see me as a homeless failure.
Looking back on it, I could have handled it differently, but how?
How do I fight against a family that invests my insurance money into the family empire and has no shame when they don’t put my name on it anywhere?
How do I fight against a family that has a united front against me?
How do I tell the world a shameful story like this without it becoming ugly?
If I didn’t tell you this sad shameful story, I’d be dead right now.
I’m sorry I had to tell you such a sad terrible story.
This ugly sad terrible story is the God’s honest truth.
If any of it was a lie, you can bet your last dollar I would have heard from the O’Dovero family Lawyers a long time ago.
I have 2 doctor’s appointments, an MRI and an operation scheduled on my bladder. Then I’m sure I’ll have one follow up doctor’s appointment. After that, I’m heading South for the winter. This will be my last blog entry about the family for a while. I need these blood clots to go away. I’ll be on blood thinners for a while, maybe forever? I need to stop the anger and the stress so I don’t cause a bleeding ulcer.
I don’t want to be like the O’Dovero family and fight over $140,000,000 empire in court!
I’m still looking for a Lawyer. Not to sue them, but to protect me from losing any more money than I already have. If you know one, please have them contact me.
One last thing. I’m telling this sad story to you. To you! Someone that actually types the letters jer177.com on a computer. I’m not telling this story on Facebook or any other social media. I’m not on Facebook or any other social media telling people to log onto this blog and read my story. I’m not going out in public telling people about this sad chapter of my life. I don’t even give out my business cards anymore because they have this blog address on them.
I’m not proud of this chapter of my life. Of what the O’Dovero family turned me into.
The only people I’m writing to or for are you! You that log onto this blog to read it!
I am hoping that, if you feel my story needs to be told, you’ll spread the word. Tell people that I lived a good life. That I’ve traveled to 46 out of 50 US states. That I’ve enjoyed going to hockey games, concerts, 4-wheel-drive races in places like Crandon Wisconsin and Bark River Michigan. That I’ve been to the Indy 500 and the Kentucky Derby and picked the winning horse one year. And yes, I’ve also dealt with all kinds of “unpleasant” issues and challenges. While it’s not always easy nor fun, I’m trying to find a way through it. I’m hoping you’ll tell others about this blog for the good that I’ve done, as well as the not so much fun that I’m currently dealing with.
Please bear with me, I promise to tell happy stories again.
The most challenging aspect of my life is not what makes me different “being paralyzed.” It’s dealing with life’s challenges just like you. Maybe a little different, but not by much. Except maybe lately it’s a little different. I’m dealing with a family that doesn’t accept me or want me as a part of the family. There is no one in the family I can turn to and ask for help. No one wants to be there for me. And now when I need them the most, they leave me homeless. They feel no shame for investing every penny of my insurance money for themselves (in the O’Dovero family empire). Most of the family had jobs and careers because of the investments made with my money. They feel no shame that my insurance money made their lives better while I was left to work all my life to make a life for myself. And then when my paralyzed body started making my challenging life even more challenging, they left me homeless to die. I was homeless for 2 ½ years before Jim decided to give me an allowance to live on. My mother and father? They disowned me. 40+ years ago, I gave each of them $100,000 for the pain and suffering they claimed I caused them. I’m homeless. Why won’t each of them give me that money back, plus interest so I can build a house of my dreams in Marquette and a house of my dreams in a Southern state.
The house of my dreams in a Southern state? I always thought it would be cool to live in a warehouse just off of main street. The warehouse would have an electric garage door, so I could hit a remote button and drive right into my house, or apartment. I’d leave the interior as open as I could. If it was an open 2 story garage or warehouse, I’d build the kitchen, bathrooms, storage rooms, living room area with a bar, pool table and dart board on the ground floor and 2 or 3 bedrooms with their own bathrooms above them. I’d have both stairs and an elevator to access the second floor. With a setup like that, I wouldn’t need anyone living with me, but, if possible, I’d always welcome it. Because it’s just off the main drag, I could wheel to the local shops, restaurants and bars to keep busy and get exercise.
My mother owns a building located on 310 W. Washington street. I’d love to make the top floor my office/apartment. There’re two other business properties in Marquette that I’d love to look at. Both of them have potential to become my Marquette home.
Come Christmas in a few months, Jim is going to give himself, 6 brothers and 2 sisters a check for at least $35,000 from the trust that I wrote and put on the fast track to becoming a $35,000,000 empire. I started that trust for my brothers and sisters because I loved them and I was looking out for them. Come Christmas, it will be over $1,000,000 that my brothers, sisters and their families will receive from the trust in just the past 4 years. The same 4 years that I’ll have been homeless. Again, that’s just the past 4 years. I started the trust for them 30 years ago, and I thought for me? How many millions do you think the trust has distributed to my brothers, sisters and their families over the past 30 years?
And Jim, Joe and Connie, the trustees of the trust would not hire me as a consultant? Neither would my mother or father. For 4 years, all I wanted was a motorhome. With a job, I could have bought a motorhome to live in? if I was working somewhere in the family business, I would have never said a bad word about the O’Dovero family.
Do you think that’s why they are leaving me homeless? So, I’d get angry and write about them? That way they can justify disowning me?
The O’Dovero family would rather keep the all the millions for themselves, disown me and leave me homeless!
And most of the O’Dovero family hates me?
Some of the people that hate me the most have never read a word of this blog!
And there we go. The ugly anger is showing itself again.
I hate feeling like this !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need to stop writing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m so sorry you’re seeing me like this.
I need to leave Marquette. I need to find a place where I can ???
During the past 4 years, I borrowed several thousands of dollars from my friends that I haven’t paid back yet. I hope to by Christmas.
I want everyone in the O’Dovero family to know!
If beating me down so I feel nothing anymore makes you happy, then you’ve done it!
I’m going to leave Marquette and look for happiness somewhere else!
Since money means that much to the O’Dovero family, especially Jim, that they can disown me, financially, socially and emotionally then it’s time to say goodbye!
The other day I received a phone call from my brother-in-law Tom. Tom is married to my twin-sister Jean. Tom isn’t too happy with something I wrote in a previous blog and he wants me to “redact” it. Tom didn’t ask me to remove it, delete it, erase it, edit it, rephase it or modify it. Tom asked me to redact it? It sounded like something a Lawyer would tell to him to say to me. So I asked Tom if he read my entire blog or just the parts he didn’t like? Tom assured me he read my entire blog. ?? I don’t have a clue how many posts I’ve made over the past ?? years. You know, I didn’t think of asking Tom if he liked any of my stories I wrote, OR, did he hate every story I ever wrote? Remind me to add that to the list of questions I’ll have my Lawyer ask him and every member of the O’Dovero family 18 years of age and older when we are in court. I don’t want to sue, but like I told Tom, I don’t want to continue to be homeless for the rest of my life either. I’m hiring a Lawyer.
This question isn’t just for Tom. It’s for every member of the O’Dovero family. 1st, what did I do to each and every one of you, personally, to make you all hate me so much? A family with a $140,000,000 empire. A 1/3rd of it made from my investment into the family empire. Then, what did the O’Dovero family think was going to happen when I started writing this blog all those years ago? After what the family has done to me, what did you think I’d write about? My vast knowledge of migratory of birds in South East Asia? Rate which of the 14 Dalai Lamas was the best one? Or maybe the special relationship twins have, and is it different when you are fraternal twins verses identical twins?
For those of you that have been reading this blog from the beginning, I hope you believe me when I say that the last thing I wanted was to tell God and the world, in detail, my financial relationship with the O’Dovero family. I think you’ll have to agree, if you polled 100 reasonable people that have read this blog from the beginning. The odds of me keeping this dirty shameful chapter of O’Dovero history a secret had to drop from 99% towards zero every day the family leave me homeless? I start year number 4 of being homeless on September 15. I think a reasonable judge and jury would agree, as well?
Just in case the family has been living on a deserted island with no means of communication from the rest of the world, I better recap my financial life. I don’t want it to be a shock to ANY MEMBER OF THE O’DOVERO FAMILY! When I was just 16 years ago, which was more than 40 years ago, I bought a $1,000,000 insurance policy on my new 1979 Ford pickup truck. Just after my 17th birthday, I was in a serious accident that left me permanently paralyzed from the chest down. Are you following me so far? After 6 months in 3 different hospitals, I come home to a check for $700,000 from my insurance company because I bought a $1,000,000 insurance policy. Then my mother and father’s Lawyer wrote up the paperwork forcing me to pay my mother and father each, $100,000 for their pain and suffering. Then, within a year, with the power of attorney from the Lawyer my father hired, my father embezzled the rest of my $700,000 of insurance money, or he invested it in his construction company and real estate giving me a 1/3rd ownership of the O’Dovero empire. I believe he made the investment with my insurance money so he could save his construction company from the challenges of a new world without the big expansions at the iron ore mines and so he could better provide jobs and careers for his other children and their spouses. (both my current brother-in-law’s worked for Peter’s construction company). While that was going on? My mother left me under the care of a cleaning lady that had 15 minutes of training in the field of health care by my mother. Then, she moved to Florida. Me? I was given a room in the basement of their house in Marquette and an allowance to live on ($14,000 a year). Fast forward a few decades, no one in the O’Dovero family has ever acknowledged my investment into the family empire nor have they ever built me a house to live in. To add insult to injury, every time I try talking about the money, the entire O’Dovero family bands together and stops talking to me. (The last time for 14 years) I now have been in the Marquette area for a couple of months and my mother hasn’t called me or invited me over. My father hasn’t called or invited me over. None of my brothers nor sisters have called me or invited me over. None of my nieces or nephews have called me and invited me over. Only one of my brothers or sister’s spouses has called me. That was my brother Jim’s wife Laurie. She is the only member of the entire 40+ members of the O’Dovero family that talks to me on any type of regular basis.
So, I ask again, what did the O’Dovero family think was going to happen when I started writing this blog many, many, years ago? What did the O’Dovero family think was going to happen? What did the O’Dovero family think was going to happen after I spent two years, plus, asking the O’Dovero family for a job? A job, so I could buy a motorhome and respectfully work my way out of my financial difficulties, and they repeatedly said, “NO!” “NO!” “NO!”? What did they think?
Tom, after you read my entire blog, especially the last entry that talks about how being homeless has made me an extremely angry man, you called me up to TELL me to “redact” something I said about you? And what? What did you think I was going to say? OMG! I’m so sorry! I said something to hurt your feelings? Of course I’ll “redact” it! Peter O’Dovero didn’t give you anything? He has never did anything for you or anyone in the family. Wait! He gave your wife, my twin sister, a running, established, profitable beauty salon business, with a checking account that had $35,000 in it. A business that my mother started with the $100,000 of blood money I had to pay her for the pain and suffering I caused her. But he didn’t give you anything! What was I thinking?
I need to stop. The anger is coming out again. I’m happy Jean received the beauty salon business. To this day, it’s the only place I’ve had my hair cut when I lived in or was visiting the Marquette area. Peter and Lois O’Dovero should have set us all up in business of our own.
OK, it’s a new day, but no new dollars. It’s not easy anymore to keep the anger buried deep inside anymore.
OK. If the tables were turned and you were me? Wouldn’t you have a little anger inside you?
The characters in this story are real, but the story is fictitious.
Say, 40 or so years ago, you are working for Peter O’Dovero and you are seriously and permanently injured on the job. Peter O’Dovero turns his back on you. He hides behind shady Lawyers. You get shafted! Not just shafted, but royally screwed. To add insult to injury, Peter claims you filed a multimillion-dollar Lawsuit against the entire O’Dovero family. It doesn’t matter what you say, you are labeled as evil. Especially by ?? an unnamed person in the family. You are angry, so you tell the O’Dovero family you don’t want to be around them until they show you respect and listen to what you have to say. You pack up your Ford pickup truck and your wife, who is an O’Dovero, and move far-far away.
You work hard and make a life you are proud of. Everything is going nicely. The years are passing like the yellow dotted lines on the road you call life. Then your wife decides she wants to go home to her family. You contact the O’Dovero family, but the reception is cold. You find out that your wife has been disowned by the family. They won’t even hire her or you to work in the family business at jobs you both are very good at. The Evil members of the family are still black balling you. Any talk with the family is cold and distant. They won’t hire you, so making a decent living there is going to be challenging. You ask for their help, understanding and forgiveness and all you hear is, “You told us decades ago you didn’t want to be around us and you moved far away!” You try asking members of the family if they would “help you” talk to those in charge and they all tell you the same thing, “It’s not their place” “They’re not getting involved” “Their not picking sides” “The family’s broken” “All the money is tied up in the courts, because the family is suing each other.”
Ok, that didn’t happen to you? Although I didn’t get injured on the job, it happened to me.
I’m not feeling well. I’m going to take a nap. I need to stop for a while.
OK Let’s try again? Tom called me the other day and asked me to redact the comment I made about Peter building him and twin sister Jean a house. Tom wanted me to know that he was paying for every part of that new house. Peter O’Dovero was paying for nothing! Tom told me that if I needed proof, he could provide it!
The first thing I want to say is “thank you Tom.” I started thinking, not so much about what I was writing, but about how I was feeling when I wrote it. I’m so angry all the time. I have no doubt my writing shows it. I don’t want to write like an angry bitter man. I just want my share of the family empire that my investment made all those years ago? Money, so I can build a house(s) of my dreams, get a motorhome and “properly” and “finally” get on with my life.
Tom told me he don’t like what I’m writing. When I responded, “I don’t like being homeless!” he paused for a second like it was the first time he actually heard or realized that I was homeless. But like all good seconds, they pass too quickly. I now understand why there isn’t a single member of the O’Dovero family that actually thinks I’m homeless. I’m not homeless. I’m just living in a van. Homeless people live in cardboard boxes on skid row. No one is really homeless if they are living in their cars! Especially, if they have “some” income or money from somewhere! We choose to live in their cars, so we can’t call ourselves homeless..
Two years ago, I attended a family reunion on my mother’s side. It was held at the house my mother grew up in. My cousin Jeff bought the place. My mother was there as well. When my aunts, uncle (the one that passed away from the coronavirus) and cousins asked me where I was living, I pointed to my van. They looked at my mother. She said nothing. They asked me my plans? I told them I’m trying to get a job with my dad, but it wasn’t going well. Again, they look at my mom. Again, she nothing. It was probably the last time she was going to see most of them. It didn’t feel right to bring shame on her at the house she grew up in, and what might be the last time she visited it and her family. As for my mother, she never flinch! She showed zero emotions. Well, that might not be true. Maybe she showed her unbreakable defiance that she’s God like and I’m just a disabled boy? When the final story is written, the author can interview the relatives.
Should I have made a scene at what have been my mother’s last visit to the house she grew up at and in front of her remaining living sisters?
I’m not homeless? I’m just living in a van. I’m not Jobless? There are a lot of jobs out there. I’m just not trying hard enough to find one?
I was talking to my brother Jay one day. It was a week or so after a lady started a ”Go fundme?” something on Facebook. I never heard of them and I’d never want one for me! The damage it caused me in the family alone is unbelievable. When I called my brother Jay to tell my mother I had nothing to do with it, I could hear my mother screaming so loud in the background, I swear it sounded like she was 3 inches from my face screaming at me. “Tell him he better get that bleep bleep bleep… I’m not going tell it word for word.
I told my brother Jay I didn’t have anything to do with the Go fundme thing because it would be the same as asking my mother, father and family to disown me. It didn’t take long and I was contacted by the family to get that Go fundme thing off the internet. NOW! If the family didn’t have enough reasons in their minds to disown me, that Go fundme thing gave them another one.
I’ve been disowned.
That wasn’t the only damage that Go fundme thing did. Now adays, employers now look at social media when they are hiring.
Guess how much I received from the Go fundme thing?
It was just North of $3,100.
Funny thing! Or, maybe it’s a sad thing? It was more than I received from all my brothers, sisters and their families in the three years I’ve been homeless, combined!
Word of advice for those that want to create a go fundme thing for someone. You should ash that person if they want one? Just a thought!
Yes, It’s going on three years that I’ve been homeless. Most of it in the back of a van. Since living in a van was “literally” going to kill me, I’m sometimes stay in motels. Living in a van is being homeless. Living in motels is being homeless. I’m still homeless.
I don’t feel I should have to live in a basement apartment of an unfurnished, rundown, rental house my mother owns either. I lived in her basement and on an allowance for more than a decade after the accident. I even cooked the evening supper for the O’Dovero family while living in my mother’s basement.
No one in the O’Dovero family has ever asked me what I want. But then again, you don’t ask a 4-year-old child what they want. You tell them what they want.
I’m still in collections from the last apartment complex I was living at. I cannot rent an apartment. Plus, why should I? My money bought a 1/3rd ownership into the family empire. I should be able to withdraw money from it to build the house of my dreams?
Another thing about my talk with Tom? He told me, “You told me you didn’t want my help!”
WOW! I’ve heard that exact phrase, world for word, from many of the O’Dovero family. When I ask for their help to make up for “The Sins of the Past?” They tell me I told them decades ago that I didn’t want their help.
Then I said to Tom, (like I’ve said to every brother and sister) “Will you help me?” He said, “It’s not my place.” If I only had a dime for every time I’ve heard someone tell me that. (both inside the family and out)
“You told me you didn’t want our help” and “It’s not my place.”
I’m “homeless” and asking for help! I’m told, “You told us years ago, I think it was during the Jurassic Period, that you don’t want our help” and besides, “It’s not my place!”
I can’t wait for the TV series. When they show that scene. Actually, scenes. Family member after family member saying the exactly the same thing, the same way, over and over again? Like they rehearsed it over and over again at the family meetings they had about me.
I can see it in courtroom. When my Lawyer asks a member of the family “Why didn’t you help Jerry?” I can already picture the judge, the jury, the court personnel and the reporters there all saying the answers under their breaths, “He told us he didn’t want our help” and “It’s not my place.”
I don’t remember the exact date, and brother Pete burnt all my paperwork, so I’m not exactly sure, but I believe it was around January of 1995, possibly during 1994. I came home with my buddy Greg, who was a roommate of mine at the time. There were five brothers, a twin sister and a step sister all sitting round the dinning-room table of Ridge street. The family house since 1969. I had been living there for the past few years paying all the bills. All the bills as in, water $80-$120/month, electric $150-$200/month, gas $150-$200/month in the summer and $500/month in the winter, cable $120/month, trash (no idea), property taxes I think were between $5,000 and $8,000 a year, phone/fire/security alarm bill $75-$100/month.
Greg took one look at the family looking all serious and went straight upstairs to his room. I had no idea they were coming over to “my house.” Technically, I didn’t own the house, but I was paying all the bills so I feel it was enough for me to call it my home. What do you think the response from them would have been if I broke into their house? I was sitting at their dining room table and then proceeded to tell them their lives had very little value? Do you think it would be something like? Thank you? We love you? Hugs and kisses? Thanks for pointing it out? You have always been the brother we respect and listen too? So it must be true? Can you stay for dinner? We are having pot roast!
The day after I quit working for Peter E. O’Dovero, I decided I better get something in writing regarding the $700,000 sins of the past. As you can probably guess, I kind of knew I wasn’t going to be treated with love and respect by Peter. Just some quick numbers;
The return on some of the investments made by Peter with my money in 1994/95.
25,000 sqft building on 7 acres of land at $4 per sqft and a 10% return x 15 years = $4,000,000.
17,000 sqft building on 3 acres of land at $9 per sqft and a 10% return x 2 years = $315,000.
Rent on the Ready-Mix Business $100,000 per year and a 10% return x 15 years = $3,600,000.
$100,000 used to buy the Woodview Apartment complex @10% interest x 15 years = $400,000.
Approximate value 1995 $8,315,000.
That’s not all the investments Peter made with my money. It’s just the investments we were told about. Plus, remember the recession I told you about? My $700,000 couldn’t have come at a better time for a shrewd businessman like Peter E. O’Dovero to turn $$$ into wheel barrows full of gold.
Oh, and there was also the beauty salon!
I hope you understand why I responded like I did at the end of the ambush meeting that my brothers and sisters surprised me with back in 1994/95?
I didn’t allow myself to believe early on that my parent’s moral compasses were broken. In my belief system, it be akin to telling God to send them to hell. So I always believed they’d make it up to me someday. They didn’t steel my money. They “invested it “ in the family empire. When I’m ready, when I can prove I’m ready, they’ll give me back my money and at least some of the profits. I never believed they would never give me back my money with none of the profits. Or leave me homeless! Even if, even if for some reason, like they died before they could give it back, they’d leave it for me in their will. Or, I always believed my brothers and sisters and their families would be there for me!
I knew that if I started at $10,000,000, or whatever my $700,000 investment into the family empire was then worth in 1994/95, I’d get laughed out of Peter’s office. But if I started out small, and only asked my father for a house to live in (322 East Ridge St. Appraised value $425,000, purchased price by Peter and Lois in 1969 for $29,000), plus $15,000 for 13 years, I’d have a chance “to crack the solid 4-inch-thich wooden door with steel straps and bracing. Metal hinges with 1 inch steel pins. Secured with bolts the size the ironworkers used to build the Mackinac Bridge. A door that could easily stop a raging bull elephant.
So I asked my father for just enough to keep a dream I had from coming to an end. Also because I believed my brothers, sisters and their families will make up the rest someday.
Peter E. O’Dovero told me to my face that I was not only trying to rip him off, but my brothers and sisters as well. That was in 1994.
I’ll write about the years, 1994 and 1995 someday soon. Much of it, I spent traveling the country, sleeping in my van, driving without a driver’s license. Believe it or not, I drove to the East coast (twice), down to Florida, to Texas (twice), all the way to Seattle WA, down to Los Angles California and many many of the states in between. I have pictures too. I’m so ready to write happy stories again.
In January of 1995 or a little earlier, my brothers and sisters came to my house, “unannounced” and told me I was asking for too much when I asked the family that stole my insurance money and made millions upon millions with it for a house to live in that cost the family $29,000 and $15,000 for 13 years.
Again, the reason I was asking for so little was I thought it would be a no brainer for them. I thought they’d appreciate the fact I was asking for so little. It wasn’t even pennies on the dollar. It was pennies on the $1000 bill. I thought I’d get 100% support from them. I thought later on they’d even make up the rest, or at least some of it.
My dream back then.
I needed at least $15,000 a year to pay the bills on the Ridge street house.
Then I figured I could borrow against the house and go to Law school. A Law degree takes three years, if you have an undergraduate degree, which I had.
With a Law and finance/accounting degrees, I could have my own little Law Practice where I could specialized in real estate and estate law. Prepare deeds, contracts, wills, trusts, etc. I could also add a small accounting company to go with it. Three years to get the Law degree, that would give me ten years of just enough money to pay the bills on the house so I could build my little Law and accounting business. To keep the costs down, I’d run the business right there at the house. For the first few years anyway. That’s why “ALL” I was asking for was a house to live in and $15,000 for thirteen years.
That was my dream in 1994/95.
What was I thinking? Thinking I could have such a grandiose dream like that?
That dream was CRUSHED when five brothers and two sisters came to me one night, to my house, unannounced and told me I shouldn’t have dreams. Instead, they told me that it was OK that Peter stole my money. Because he invested it in the family empire. The family is going to keep the money, all the investments they made with the money and all the profits those investments made the family. It didn’t matter what I want. My dreams don’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I said. How did they say it? All we feel we (the entire O’Dovero family) owes you from the $700,000 that we took from you and invested into the O’Dovero family empire 15 years earlier is a house and $50,000, period! You don’t like it and it angers you? Sucks to be you.
THEY told me what THEY were going to give me. That was it! That was final! I was going to accept it! Or, I get nothing! Sucks to be me! And if I complain, I’m feeling sorry for myself because I’m a disabled boy. Not a man with wants, needs and dreams like them, but a disabled boy feeling sorry for myself.
You don’t ask your 4-year-old child what they want, you tell them!
THEY (brother Jim) told me what THEY (the O’Dovero family) were going to give me (the Ridge street house that my parents paid $29,000 for and a one-time payment of $50,000). That was it! That was final! I was going to accept it! Or, (When I didn’t like the offer and told them I didn’t like it and if that was the type of help I was going to get from them? I’d talk to Peter on my own.
So, for the past couple of decades, the entire O’Dovero family stands unified against me from getting any money from them to make up for the sins of the past.
It’s not my place to help you!
You didn’t want our help!
For the past 40+ years, my mother, father, brothers, sisters and their families don’t believe they owed me anything.
Even the after the way the treated me financially, I didn’t turn my back on them. I didn’t disown them. I didn’t make any of them “Enemies of the State.”
Jim’s offer (a house I couldn’t afford with only a one-time payment of $50,000) had failure written all over it. Is that what my family wanted for me? Failure? Is that what Jim wanted? Me to fail? He’s the one that offered it? Jim? If not! Then why aren’t you willing to admit it was wrong to make such an irresponsible offer and do the right thing now? Tell the family to give me money to build the house of my dreams, and buy a motorhome?
Jim, in 1994/95, you and I were the only two members of the O’Dovero family with ANY financial knowledge and experience. So, when YOU told the others at that ambush meeting, especially step sister Connie and brother Pete, that all the most the family owed me was a house and $50,000, you sealed my fate.
I didn’t have a job at the time. I could have burnt through that $50,000 just trying to maintain the Ridge street house before I even found a job and Law school would have been out of the picture. I don’t know if you remember, but I used my own money to fixed the chimneys on that house. All five of them. Do you know what that cost me? What it cost me a year for just the operating costs? Money for a wife and family at that time wouldn’t have been a blimp on the radar!
Knowing everything that was going on at that time, if you were me (paralyzed and use a wheelchair), would you have taken that offer? Would you have felt that it was a fair offer? If 15 years earlier, you seen a check with your name on it for $700,000? A check that was meant to buy you the house of your dreams, pay for college and Law school and provide you with a decent income so you could support yourself, a wife and family? Would you be jumping up and down with joy over the offer Jim made to me? When my dad didn’t buy Jim out of his 15% of the construction company he received for free after he quit, he sued him for it.
Now I ask you this? If for the first time in your life, you felt your brothers and sisters were either, too young and inexperienced to be sitting at your dining room table “uninvited” making foolish offers or knew what they were doing and were trying to set you up for failure, would you get angry? If you finally realized that there wasn’t a single member of the O’Dovero that believed in you, and you showed anger for the first time, should you be punished for the rest of your life for it? Should the family be allowed to hide behind an out-burst you made decades ago and disown you because of it?
When brother Jim made me the offer of the house and onetime payment of $50,000, he was telling everyone in the O’Dovero family, especially his mother and father, brother Pete and stepsister Connie that that’s all the O’Dovero family owed me! AND doing so, he created a united front for an entire O’Dovero family to be against me.
One more important point, then I’m going to “try” stop this rant!
I’ve been hearing it for decades and now generations that, “It’s not my place” for them to help me. Actually some of my nieces and nephews want to put me into a nursing home. They don’t even tell me it’s not their place. Some of them have come right out and told me, to my face, that they think I should be in a nursing home. What did I do to them that they could think so little and want so little for me that they’d want to put me into a nursing home? Or, is it really all about the inheritance? You cannot leave money in a will to someone in a nursing home, because the nursing home will get the money.
Putting me in a nursing home is the same as disinheriting me!
Sorry, it just hurts when they think so little of me and want so little for me. I’m fucking proud of my life!!!! Even though the entire O’Dovero family gave up on me, I never gave up!!!
It’s not my place!
Time to stop!
I’m back. It’s been a few days, but I’m not sure it’s been long enough.
Just as I was leaving Marquette in 2004, step sister Connie gathered all the adult women of the O’Dovero family for one of their infamous family meeting about me, which I’m never been invited to. Remind me to add that to the list of questions for my Lawyer to ask the family when they’re on the witness stand.
How many meeting about me, without me, were there?
While, I was told, only step sister Connie and twin sister Jean were actual descendants of Peter and/or Lois O’Dovero at that meeting, it was obvious that the other women (wives and girlfriends of my brothers) were meant to stand in as proxies for my brothers. I say this because one brother, and only one brother called me up and told me about his girlfriend being at the “sucks to be Jerry” meeting orchestrated by step sister Connie.
Step sister Connie used that meeting to spread a lie so outlandish, a reasonable person would have never believed it. After hearing it, a reasonable person would have talked to me about it for a whole host of reasons. If a reasonable person believe, any part of it, to be remotely true, they would have feared for the lives of two people.
What a $@^@#^&&#@#$^* lie!
The two people, whom were in grave danger if the lie were actually true? My father, Peter E. O’Dovero and ME!
Step sister Connie told the women of the O’Dovero family that I was a disabled and I lost all my money in the stock market, so I was depressed and intended on murdering Peter E. O’Dovero and then committing suicide. (Remember, I didn’t have a gun? And I just bought 110 acres of land for $95,000 in cash)
Then, with the support of the family, my step sister Connie decided that “It was their place” to tell Peter not to pay me any money, give me any money or make up for the sins of the past.
Believe it or not, after hearing the whooper of all lies, Peter still wanted to meet with me? But step sister Connie told Peter that she had the support of the entire family and the family felt that he didn’t owe me any money and that he shouldn’t talk to me.
How do I know this when I’ve never been invited to any of the family meeting about me? Step sister Connie bragged about it in her 4-page 2004 letter.
My point being, I’ve been hearing from my family that “It isn’t their place to help me.”
But it is their place to form a united front against me and tell Peter O’Dovero that he never took my insurance money, that he doesn’t owe me any money, that he should never talk to me again and that he should disown me?
Now for the past five years, the entire family has been paying Lawyers millions and fighting in court for ownership of the trust and other parts of the family empire!
While they disown me and leave me homeless to die?
I know I’ve been disowned by my mother and father. I recently asked my brothers and sister for my 21 shares of Midway Rental Stock I gave them for free. I’ve heard nothing back. I feel it’s just a matter of time until they completely disown me as well.
Is there anyone in the O’Dovero family that will help me?
Is there anyone outside the family that will help me?
Is there anyone that can help me hire a Lawyer?
Do you know how they ended apartheid in South Africa?
When enough people in the “world” finally told the few in South Africa that were in charge that they weren’t going to put up with it anymore.
I now know I need a Lawyer. The longer this goes on, the angrier I’m becoming. I don’t want to be an angry man.
If you are a Law firm and you are interested taking my case, contact me, but before you do, you’re going to need to convince me you can win.
I don’t want to be angry and I need someone to believe in me and help me. I’ve been trying for 40 years alone and I’m getting nowhere, so I sent an email to the Mining Journal asking if they’ll help me?
OK I’ve slept for a few days. I haven’t heard back from the Mining Journal yet, but I feel, somehow, someway, someone is going to help me.
I have to believe there’s someone that believes in me?
Tom, you called me up and asked me to redact a comment I made that Peter O’Dovero was building you a house? The reason I believed it was true is because your wife, my twin sister Jean told me he was building the house. When she first told me about it, the house was to be built somewhere behind Econo Foods. Upon hearing it and even though I’m homeless, I told her I was happy for her. Then a little while ago, she told me the house was to be built on a plot of land, owned by Peter, behind the airport somewhere. I was also lead to believe by Jean that Peter was going to be living in the house? Knowing that and the fact that Peter gave his (another) cabin to brother Pete to live in for free, I assumed Peter was paying for the house. Two years ago, I watched Jean wash Peter’s feet and the apply lotion on them. I think she said she did that for him just about every night?
Isn’t that what Jesus did for his disciples?
Tom, I thought you and Jean had a better relationship with Peter?
If he isn’t paying for your house and he’s going to live there, I feel terrible for the two of you.
Tom, I’m sorry for writing that Peter was building you a house. I want to apologize to you, Jean and the entire Temple family that I thought Peter O’Dovero was building you a house.
Tom, I don’t want to fight with you, Jean or any member of the O’Dovero family. I just want the family to make up for the sins of the past.
One last thing, at the end of the phone call, you told me that the only reason I was writing my blog was to get people to feel sorry for me because I have a disability.
I know anger has been creeping into what I’ve been writing, so I’m wondering if that’s what prompted you to say that?
I know my writing skills could easily could be considered primitive. With that said, I hope those that read this don’t think I want them to feel sorry for me? Let me explain it this way. If I was in the desert, dehydrated and near death, I would much rather have 1 bottle of water than 1,000 people feeling sorry for me. Right now I’m homeless and I nearly died 3 times because of it. I don’t feel well right now. Last night I took a picture of my right foot/leg. I’ll post it.
I’d much rather have a house to live in than 1,000,000 people feeling sorry for me.
I’d rather you be angry at the O’Dovero family than feel sorry for me!
It’s a week later (Friday night). I was hoping to have this posted by now. But, remember my right foot/leg I told you about? I went to a doctor last Tuesday to drop off a urine culture. I wasn’t feeling right. While giving them the culture, they saw my right foot/leg. They no longer were concerned about a little urinary tract infection. The next thing I knew, I was going to the hospital and told I was going to spend at least one night, but told, don’t be surprised if it’s longer.
It turns out I have two blood clots in my leg. I’m told they can be deadly. If they break loose and go to my heart or I get a blood clot in my heart, I’d have a heart attack. If they break loose and go to my brain or I get the blood clot in my brain, I’d have a stroke. If they break loose and go to my lungs, I die. Since I have a history of bleeding ulcers, blood thinners can also cause me to bleed internally and be very dangerous to my health. I knew once I was diagnosed with blood clots, I wasn’t coming straight back to this motel from that doctor’s visit.
Luckily, I currently do not have bleeding ulcers, at this time. They ran the tests. I only had to spend one night in the hospital. I will be on blood thinners for a long time, maybe forever?
I feel like a lucky man.
Finally a doctor that did the right thing. This isn’t the first time I had blood clots in my leg? It’s just the first time I went to the hospital with an extremely swollen foot/leg and they ran the proper tests to find the blood clots. I went to the hospital for this when I was living in Marquette and going to college. I went to the hospital again when I was living in San Jose and working at H&R Block. I’ve had a swollen foot/leg a few other times. But when two different doctors in two different states didn’t know what’s wrong, you live with it and hope it gets better.
I feel like a lucky man.
I now know that I get blood clots. I now know I need to go to the hospital right away when my foot/leg swells up. Blood clots can kill me or leave this paralyzed body in worse shape than it is.
I haven’t heard back from the Mining Journal? I checked my email. My email system sometimes, sometimes too often, gives the appearance that an email is sent when I click the send button. But for some reason, maybe because I don’t often have a good secure internet connection? I don’t know, but too often, the mail I believe I’ve sent, goes into a draft folder. I found the email to the Mining Journal in there along with two other emails I thought I sent. I’m going to have to resend it.
Tom, Jean and the entire Temple family, I’m sorry I wrote that Peter O’Dovero was building you house. But if he does want to live with you, then charge him rent.
I still believe Peter and Lois should each sell $5,000,000 of their precious assets and give us the money they promised us all our lives. My father told me many, many times that he wasn’t working 60 hours a week for himself, but for me and his children. My mother made comments stating similar ideas.
I hope they keep those promises they made to all their other children.
I just want my money back.
And the millions they made with it.
I don’t know how God, Jesus and getting into heaven works? If anyone says they do with a 100% certainty, then good luck. I don’t believe it is as easy as too many believe it is.
Here’s a question?
Do you think Hitler is in Heaven?
If Hitler believes Jesus died on Calvary hill so his sins would be forgiven? Then Hitler should be allowed into Heaven?
Or, is there a line that God has drawn so bad people can’t use the death of his son Jesus, as a loophole?
Maybe? Possibly? Probably?
Again, I don’t know. But isn’t it God’s Heaven?
When I was in college I took a couple classes on religion. One was on reading and understanding the bible. I’ll never forget how God could be a vengeful God. In the book of Genesis, when God destroyed Sodom, he told Lot and the others not to look back. When Lot’s wife looked back at the destruction God caused on the sinners, he turned her into a pillar of salt!
I cannot imagine a God like that letting the likes of a Hitler into Heaven.
So I have to ask?
Does God have a line you cannot cross and get into Heaven?
A long time ago, my family left me feeling hurt and betrayed so I told them I didn’t want the help they were offering me and that I’d talk to Peter on my own.
Again, I’m asking my mother and father not to disown me and to do the right thing and make up for the sins of the past!
I’m asking every member of the O’Doveros for help? Help me by doing the right thing and make up for the sins of the past!
If you don’t want to do it for me, do it for yourselves, your children and their families, their children and their families and so on?
Do be on the wrong side of a possible line?
And please remember what Jesus said, it’s easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle then for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.
A while back I wrote about a REIT (Real Estate Investment Trust). If you look on the NASDAQ Stock Exchange, you’ll find a REIT called,
New York Mortgage Trust
Ticker symbol (NYMT)
At close today the price was, $4.32
At this price, it has a dividend yield of 9.26%
When the stock price was a little lower a few months ago, the dividend yield was 10%.
Money doubles every 7.2 years with a 10% return.
Help me and I’ll help turn the empire into a REIT!
Help me and I’ll help turn the empire into a $500,000,000 empire!
We can use the money to do good. Everyone in the family can benefit from the $140,000,000 empire. Not just the chosen select! Plus the empire can help nonfamily as well. I scratched the surface with a few ideas in previous blogs.
Connie made a statement in the past that if she ever came into money, she start up a new news channel that only reported good news. I hope that wasn’t just bar talk?
Me? I’d love to have a late-night TV commercial that told those that are challenged, like me, that have families that take/use their monies for the family’s gains. That there is hope for them. Call the 800 number that’s shown on the bottom of the screen and a Law firm will listen to you, help you, be there for you and fight for you completely free of charge!
Tell people that they never have to hear their family and friends tell them, “It’s not my place!”
I’d love to see that TV commercial on late-night TV so often that you get sick of seeing it.
Right now I see a family that is destroying itself over money.
Jim, back in 1994/95, you, didn’t just tell me and a table full of children that all the family owed me was just a house and $50,000. You told a table full of children, mom and dad that my $700,000 and all the profits it made and continues to make is the families and not mine. You told the family that if I didn’t like what you offered me, that I didn’t desire any money.
Shame on you for leaving me homeless.
Shame on you for not fighting for me to get the millions the family owes me.
Jim, in 1994/95, you, created a united front, an entire family united against me from ever getting the millions and millions and millions of dollars of profits my investment in the family empire made for you and the family.
Shame on you!
I slept well last night. I woke up thinking about this.
In 1995, on a trip to Florida, without a driver’s license, I seen the writing on the wall. It was time to leave Marquette. On September 15, 1995, I officially/legally became a resident of California. On April 17, 1996, I received a letter from Peter E. O’Dovero. It was a legal contract telling me that all he and the family was ever going to give me from the $10,000,000+ the family had already made from my insurance money was I was $244,000 (and no house).
That birthday, I stayed home. I didn’t want the world to see what I looked like.
The next morning, I signed the contract. A contract that was great for the family and had a fatal flaw for me. It was written into the contract that the amount I was going to receive was declining every day. Since I couldn’t live on $14,000 a year, my father paying me $25,000 and deducting everything over the allowance from the $244,000.
A year and a half went by. And no check. I had no support from anyone in the family. The family Jim united against me. It took a Lawyer and a couple of years to force Peter to honor his/the family’s contract. By the time I finally received a check from Peter/the family, it was barely over $200,000.
In 1997, I could have put Peter E. O’Dovero in prison for embezzlement and possibly hell later on. I would have won millions if I took the family to court. But I couldn’t do that to Peter, Lois, and the family. I still believed my mother; Jim and the family would be there for me.
Then in 2004, I tried for my money again. Step sister Connie and the united family front made up the shameful lie and told Peter that he should turn his back on me, he should never be a loving-caring father to me and everyone in the family should continue the united front against me.
It’s $140,000,000 empire and I’m homeless!
Jim, you think you are the smartest O’Dovero. From one pretty smart O’Dovero to another, this is how I would have handled me 2 ½ years ago. I would have hired me as a consultant at $100,000 per year guaranteed for life. Because I’m in collections and cannot get a loan on my own, I would have made arrangement with a bank to loan me as much as I wanted to buy the motorhome of my dreams. Then I would have made a hand shake agreement to work with me to find future business investments, so I could start building an empire of my own. I would have kept me happy and busy, especially working on my own projects, so I didn’t have time or desire to write about the O’Dovero family sins of the past. In exchange, I would have ask me to sign a non-disclosure agreement.
But wait Mr. Peabody! I believe I wrote most of this in a text message to you and most of the O’Dovero family 1 ½ years ago when I thanked you and Joe for believing in me and hiring me on a New Year’s Day text. And, like usual, not one person, especially not you, stood up for me when step sister Connie shot me down and told me I didn’t have a job.
All Jim and the entire family had to do was to tell Connie to shut the #$%^ up and hire me like Jim and Joe said they would!
Jim, Laurie, the two of you are the only two members of the entire O’Dovero family that told me that “other families with a disabled family member” would set up a trust for the child, so that child would never go homeless, never go hungry and never go without. But both of you fall short of saying this family is wrong for not putting my $700,000 into a trust for me. Or, that you will be there for me and tell the rest of the family that that’s what loving, caring families do.
I just thought of something. No one in the entire O’Dovero family has every even thought about setting up a trust for me.
It was me setting up a trust for them!
Jim, Laurie, I’m hiring a Lawyer. I’ll see the both of you in court. I sure hope the two of you are testifying for me and not fighting against me. I hope that the two of you can convince a few others to do the same.
Tom, Jean and the rest of the O’Dovero family, the offer of hope goes out to the rest of you as well.
O’Dovero family. Please make no mistake.
No one gets to act like the dumb monkeys anymore!
The question is? are you for me? or against me?
That question is for EVERY MEMBER of the O’Dovero family 18 years of age and older!
It’s now July 31. Earlier this week I bought a PO Box at the post office. The hospital called me a few times in the past couple of weeks telling me that the letters containing the test results and the dates, times and locations for my upcoming doctor’s appointments were being returned to them. They said there was writing on the front of the envelopes stating I didn’t live at that address.
I’m homeless, so a couple of years ago I asked a few family members if I could use their address as a mail drop. The answer was no until I asked the brother that lived with me in California for nearly 5 years. He said yes. But I guess he now changed his mind. He didn’t tell me he changed his mind. So I’m now paying for a box at the post office.
I can tell similar stories of how I never turned my back on anyone in the family. The story you are about to read is true. The name has been redacted to protect the guilty.
I drove back to Marquette for the summer of 1999. I wasn’t in town for a day when a younger brother told me he was going back to California with me and he was going to live with me. I guess I told he that he could live with me in California. I don’t remember it, but it does sound like something I’d say. Now this brother didn’t have any money, or even a pot to piss in. So the nice guy that I am, I gave him $250 so he could enjoy his last summer in Marquette with his friends.
I don’t recall if we left in late August or early September. I did have a date I needed to be back in California for. The drive across the country was fun. One night at a campground, a town put on a fireworks display (just for us.) we laughed and joked about it, because it wasn’t the 4th of July, so it must have been just for us. Another night we camped in Yellowstone. I believe it was near the Montana border. We had a fire in the fire pit. We? I bought a buck saw so we (my brother) could find dead trees to cut up to burn. A word of advice. Do not put any wood in your vehicle that you find lying on the ground from a state park and then talk with the park ranger. It turns out that there are signs posted everywhere telling you not too take any type of wood from the park. We didn’t see them until we were about to bump into a park ranger. Luckily we didn’t get caught.
I’d like to tell you more about the trip across the country, but we have to be back in California to go charter fishing out on the Pacific ocean. The peaceful ocean as Ferdinand Magellan called it. It wasn’t peaceful on the hour or two boat ride to the area we were going salmon fishing? I believe we were using anchovies as bait if that helps. I have to laugh. We arrived at the ship around 6am with a cooler full of beer. We were the only two people that brought beer. In case you don’t know, before you go out on the ocean, drink a beer. Then one every hour or two. Of the 25+ on the boat, the only 5 or 6 that didn’t get sick were those of us that had a beer or two.
Back in San Jose, my brother started looking for a job. Since he didn’t have any money when we were in Marquette, well, he didn’t win the lottery on the way to California. He didn’t have a car either. Or more than 3 or 4 sets of clothes. So the nice brother that I am, I bought him clothes and gave him the keys to my Lincoln LSC. I don’t remember the year. I liked the car. So did my brother. It took my brother more than six months to find a job. He started off looking for a management position. If you knew my brother, you’d understand why he couldn’t find a management job in Silicon Valley. There are people there with masters and PhD’s that can’t find a job in Silicon Valley. But I was supportive, I bought the food, water, beer. I paid all the bills, paid for all the concert tickets. Whenever the Detroit Redwings came to town, I bought those tickets too. When his birthday came around and Christmas, I bought him presents. And my nice guy generosity didn’t end when my brother finally landed a job for $9 an hour working for a company installing car lifts in gas stations and repair shops. It went on until he moved back to Marquette in the spring of 2004. How many birthday presents, Christmas presents, rent money, food, water, etc. did I receive or he pay for after he found a job?
Another thing, since I’m on a rant. I don’t believe my brother ever lived on his own before, so he never paid any utility bills. I know he never had a credit card. Since I’m a loving and caring brother, I cosigned to get him his first credit card. I then told him to charge a little bit every month and to pay the entire balance due right away when the statement came. It didn’t take long and the credit card company started raising his credit limits. He now owns a house.
That’s enough. I’m tired of thinking about what I’ve done for the family. Wait! One last thing before I call it a night. When I was living at 322 E. Ridge street and paying the bills, I bought a hot tub. When I moved to California, I gave my brother Pete the hot tub. I also gave him a 1971 Chevelle, 1972 Cutlas, 1975 Monte Carlo. In 1996, I gave him $15,000 to buy 40 acres of land which I was supposed to triple my money in two years, but … you can guess? Oh crap, I bought him a brand new 1982 Chevrolet SS Camaro. I’m lucky if he paid me back 2/3rd of the cost brand new Camaro. But he burnt all that paperwork, so we’ll never know. I borrowed the $15,000 to buy the land against my life insurance. Guess what happens to your $100,000 of life insurance policy when you don’t pay back the loan?
Brother John, I’m sorry I was a dumbass and gave the hot tub to Pete. I should have given it to you. When I win the lawsuit, I’ll buy you and your entire family passage on a cruise ship anywhere in the world you want to go.
It’s now August 7. Yesterday it was my brother John’s birthday. I called him yesterday and wished him a happy birthday. He was busy with a flat tire, so he told me he’d call back today. My luck ran out and I finally fell out of my wheelchair while doing a transfer. It happens from time to time. When I had a place to live and good shoulders, I could get back in the wheelchair by using a couch. But those days are gone. I do have a patient lift machine in storage. It works great. I can get back into my wheelchair quickly, easily and safely by myself, but I’m homeless. I can’t carry it in my van, so I can’t bring it with me to motels. I called up my friend Brian to help me. Brian and the lady from the front desk helped me back into my wheelchair. 20 minutes later, brother John called me.
It’s 1 o’clock on a Sunday. Do you know where your parents are?
I had the TV on while I was doing my morning stretching. I don’t remember if it was a Randolph Scott movie or the Cheyenne TV show starring Clint Walker. Being homeless, I’ve watched a lot of broadcast TV. H&I, ME TV and Grit are the three channels I tend to watch the most. I been watching westerns. I’ve seen more westerns since I’ve been homeless then I’ve watched in my entire life previous to being homeless. My favorite is Maverick. For nonwestern, it’s Mannix staring Mike Connors.
Anyway, while watching a western this morning, oh crap! It wasn’t a western. I wake up so often during the night, that I leave the TV on. I think I rolled on the remote and turned the channel, because the TV show was labeled, an E/I show. They are TV shows geared for children. E = entertainment and I = information. Anyway while I was waking up, I remember the commercial that was playing over and over. It was about “being a dad” for your children. That sent my mind spinning. During the last three years, of all the family members, I’ve spent the most time with brother Jim. I spent 100 hours talking with brother Jim, I doubt if I’ve spent 100 hours with the rest of the family combined. So if you think I’m writing about Jim because I’m angry with him, your wrong. I think Jim should be the chairman of the board and run the family. If, IF he is willing to change?
While talking to Jim, his son Jimmy and his wife Laurie, I was lead to believe, by all three, that in the early days, he wasn’t the best father, because he spent too much time at work and not enough time “being a dad.” But, BUT, Jim realized the errors of his ways and changed. If you talk to Jim about it now, he’s proud of his changed ways, and he should be!
What did Jim do to change his ways? I don’t believe Jim realizes what he truly did, but being an outsider and looking at the big picture, I feel I seen the change. Jim stopped looking at the things his son was doing that he didn’t like, and he found a way to bond with Jimmy. One of them was Jimmy racing ATV 4-wheelers. Jim even went so far as to buy a motorhome and drive Jimmy to all the races, no matter how far away they were. When I heard both of them talking about it, it was so obvious that spending time together on the interests Jimmy liked, they stopped butting heads and became best friends rather than just a father and a son.
Jim, you also told me why brother Pete quit working for Associated. Or one of the reasons leading up to it anyway. Pete was working on a state highway job. You told me he was spending time clearing rocks and boulders that were beyond the scope of the contract and that the state wasn’t going to pay for that hour or two he spent on it.
Yes you were right! My question is this? Was it worth it? The two of you have now spent the last five years in court, paying Lawyers millions, fighting over the family empire.
A few days ago, I bumped into a different brother while picking up my blood thinner medication at Walmart. He told me he recently quit working for you. Again, I’m sure you are right for being the businessman and treating him the way you did.
When I tried talking to you about dad stealing my insurance money, your response was, “Isn’t there a statute of limitations on that?”
Jim, you changed for your son. You’ve changed for your wife. If you want to run the O’Dovero family, you need to change the way you see and treat the rest of the family.
Don’t dwell on our weakness, or worse yet, push us away. It’s a $140,000,000 empire. Find a way for all of us to be happy!
On the brother Pete example, couldn’t you just have paid Pete the hours the state was willing to pay and any extra time the state wouldn’t pay, have Associated pay? The couple of hours of pay by Associated would not have bankrupted Associated.
As for the other brother, he told me you made it challenging for him to work for you. Yes he has his problems. And yes, I can understand why you may not want him working for the family for liability reasons. So rather than have him working for you, let him work on his own. He’s been living with mom for years? Mom doesn’t understand what’s going on in the world. For Christ sake, she’s leaving me homeless. Let him feel some worth and feel appreciated for what he’s doing for mom. Mom should leave him her house and the three rental houses she has on the property in her will. In the meantime, draw up an agreement so this brother knows what he’ll be getting them and he’ll have a reason to treat the property as if it were his, because it will be. Now, before you shoot it down because this brother isn’t the most business or book smart member of the family, support his short comings, not beat him up because of them. One way would be to ask, not tell, but ask if your office collect the rents, pay the bills and keep the books. Tell him that everything would be entirely in his name, but the office would help him if he wanted. Let him manage the properties. Help him when he asks, but give him the freedom to succeed or fail. It’s only three rental houses.
Also, have mom pay this brother $35,000 a year for living with her. It’s not going to bankrupt mom with her $50,000,000 empire, but it just might help this brother to become a businessman. You’re going to have a challenge convincing mom. Mom doesn’t know how to give. Who knows, maybe some positive reinforcements might do him some good.
Jim, you changed for your family, change for the O’Dovero family.
Jim, it’s getting close to three years since you called me up and asked me to fly to Marquette to testify for the trust. Which I was happy to do. And for two years we talked like friends. I come to see the man you are, the good, the bad and the ugly. You’ve told me several times that the ugliness in the O’Dovero family is going to get a lot worse before it gets better. And that was before I had any intention of suing. A year ago, I made you a promise that if I left Marquette still homeless that you would hate me for what I was prepared to do. Actually I said, “You’d fucking hate me!” Your response was, “When you sue, please wait until I’m not running things!”
Jim, you keep calling the family a broken family. But you’re not trying to fix it! I can say this because I’m still Fucking Homeless!
I now have blood clots in my leg. I cannot afford to allow you and the family to keep turning your backs me. I need a home to live in. I’m not going to let you and the family the off the hook for investing my insurance money into the family empire then disowning me. I’m going to fight for the money the family owes me for as long as it takes, and if it means saying, doing and becoming someone I’m going to hate, then I might end up hating who I become. I want God and everyone in the world to know right now, I’ve tried being the nice guy for 40 years.
If I continue to be the nice guy, I’m going to die, broke and homeless.
Jim, one week after I post this, I’m sending an email to the Mining Journal and asking them for their help. Since you told me you don’t read this blog, I’ll email you a copy of this. I suggest you, Joe, your wives and children read this and at least the last couple of years of my blog.
Here’s what I hope you do so I don’t have to get a Lawyer and sue.
Admit to yourself, your family, mom and the others that my insurance money was invested into the O’Dovero family empire and that I’m part owner. I’ll be flexible on the percentage if you honestly negotiate in good faith and you honestly try to fix this broken family. I mean with me, all 5 other brothers, 2 sisters, a mom and dad and the other family members. It’s time that everyone, from the youngest to the oldest knows what’s going on, AND gets involved!
I actually believe that you can convince brother Pete and twin sister Jean that working together is many times better than fighting and tearing the family apart. I believe mom, Petsy and Jean can convince dad to do the right thing. The upside is so much better than the downside, it’s worth trying. Explain to them that if I sue, I won’t just be suing, I’ll make it public as well and it won’t be pretty for anyone.
I truly believe the O’Dovero empire combined is much greater than a broken family. I truly believe that an O’Dovero family working together can build and turn this family empire into a REIT. I truly believe you can lead this family and make it happen.
Let me know?
Because in 1 week, my new belief will be that there will never be an O’Dovero empire again. After years of you, brother Pete, mom, dad and I fighting in court, the O’Dovero empire and the O’Dovero reputation will suffer irreparable damage.
In one week your actions are going to tell God and the world what’s more important. Your stubborn belief that you’re right, you’re always right and I’m wrong. Others in the family are always right as well. Is it your plan to let the family tear the O’Dovero empire apart? By watching dad disown me for years, by letting mom disown me, by letting Connie make up lies about me and hate me, you are and have been allowing the family to tear itself apart.
Are you going to fix the family and make you and your family the richest O’Doveros on the face of the earth because you earned it and deserve it, or are you going to watch the O’Dovero family destroy itself so you can make you and your family the richest O’Doveros on the face of the earth because it’s the easiest path to take?
Why am I putting all the pressure on you? Because in 1991 I graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in finance and accounting. I then took dad’s grossly undervalued real estate company and turned it into a first-class profitable operation. Mom and dad had no estate plan, so I created a beautiful, perfect estate plan. An estate plan that included an irrevocable trust that has distributed $95,000 to you and the rest of the children since I’ve been homeless. God only know how much you and the rest of the children received over the past 30 years? A trust that survived a 5-year court battle with dad.
Then you, Connie and Petsy came to Ridge street with 5 others in 1994/95 and you told “the family” that my 700,000 of insurance money and the millions of dollars of profits belonged to the family and I’m the Enemy of the State by not wanting your help. Then you continued to enhance your reputation and leadership by throwing me out of the trust and replacing me with Joe.
Then for the next 25 years, you watched and allowed Connie to make up lies and continue to destroy my reputation. Why?
Because I didn’t fight for myself when you and Connie were destroying my reputation, I do not have the respect of the O’Dovero family. I cannot fix the broken family.
But you can!
Will you? Please?
I’ll be happy to help. I have a lot of ideas.
ALTHOUGH OR MAYBE BECAUSE I DIDN’T FIGHT FOR MYSELF IN THE PAST, I’M NOT GOING TO DIE DISOWNED AND HOMELESS WITHOUT PUTTING UP A FIGHT!
I’M NOT FEELING SORRY FOR MYSELF. I FEEL HURT AND BETRAYED! I’M ANGRY!
MY FIRST ACT IN THIS FIGHT WILL BE AN EMAIL TO THE MINING JOURNAL ASKING THEM TO HELP ME FIND A LAW FIRM CAPABLE OF WINNING!
JIM, YOU AND THE FAMILY MADE TWO MAJOR MISTAKES.
- MOM, THE TRUST OR MIDWAY RENTAL SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT ME A MOTORHOME, OR AT LEAST SOMEONE IN THE FAMILY SHOULD HAVE HIRED ME SO I COULD HAVE BOUGHT ONE (I swallowed my pride and threw my self-respect in the gutter sleeping in my van on your properties, your driveways and your backyards for 2 years while I tried to get a job somewhere, anywhere in the family empire).
- YOU SHOULD NEVER BEAT SOMEONE DOWN SO BAD AND MAKE THEM FEEL SO LOW, SO UNWANTED, SO UNLOVED THAT THEY FEEL THEY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE. I FEEL I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE!
I’M NOT JUST FIGHTING FOR MONEY!
I’M FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE! (I now have 2 blood clots! What’s next? Only God knows)
MY LIFE MATTERS!
It’s now August 20, 2021. I have to check out of this motel tomorrow. I’ve been here since June. The motel rented the room for a week to someone else that needs a handicapped room. I can come back in a week, but only for a month. Then I have to leave again. So I need to post this blog.
Jim, the biggest mistake you made in your life is to leave me homeless, and to continue to leave me homeless. You’ve given me too much time to think about why I’m homeless and how I arrive at such a low and dangerous place in life. I now have to add blood clots, heart attacks, strokes and blood loss (especially internal bleeding. I have a history of bleeding ulcers. Jim, you brought me to the emergency room in Ishperming. I was quickly transferred from the Ishperming hospital to the larger Marquette hospital, because my life depended on it. As soon I a got there, they gave me 2 pints of A+ blood to save my life. Hospitals don’t stick a needle in your arm and pump 2 pints of blood because it’s a Tuesday and they have nothing better to do! And you drove me to the Ishperming emergency room and then from there to the larger hospital in Marquette.)
Jim, unless I hear from you, In 1 week, I’m going to ask the Mining Journal to help me find a Lawyer. I can not fight a unified family alone.
I’m also giving a shout out to anyone else that wants to help. I welcome your help. I do not want to go to court.
But I don’t want die homeless either.
Jim, I know you are going to bang the drum and tell everyone that you are giving me $7,000 a month.
It sounds like a lot of money, but $700,000 is a lot more. At $7,000 a month, it will take 100 months to match the $700,000 the family invested into the O’Dovero empire more than 40 years ago. That’s about 8 ½ years of monthly checks just to match my investment in the O’Dovero family. A family that now has a net worth of $140,000,000 and they won’t build me a house to live in and buy me a motorhome to travel in?
I’m not going to live in the basement of a rental house mom owns. I’m not going to live in an apartment owed by someone else. Is it too much to want a house with a garage? A basement with a workshop so I can make my adaptive living equipment? A nice big bedroom that will fit a king size bed and still have room for my wheelchair to move around in? A couple of bedrooms for guests? A den or office? A nice big kitchen of my dreams? A yard to entertain guests and maybe a dog? An apartment above the garage or somewhere on the property so I can have a friend live there, so they can mow the grass, shovel the snow, take out the trash, etc.
Is it too much to want a house to live in where I never have to move from again?
In a perfect world, I’d have a summer home in Marquette and a winter home not in Marquette.
If you don’t think I’m asking for too much and you want to help me? Contact someone, anyone in the O’Dovero family and tell them.
A wise man once said, you donate to a GoFundMe thing, you feed a man for a day. You tell the O’Dovero family to talk to me and make up for the sins of the past, and I my dreams finally start coming true.
I finally looked it up. My dad, brother Pete and twin sister Jean’s Lawyer tried for 15 minutes, plus, to get me to say I was calling my father “the shit” in Italian. I called my father “el Duce or the Leader” earlier in this blog, their brilliant Lawyer was trying to get me to say in court, I said or wrote “el deuce.”
The two? Now that I write it out and look at it, it doesn’t make sense. I guess I’m just not seeing it. Back when I worked for the construction company, before the accident, Associated (the construction company) had 2-way FM radios. My father’s call sign was “ALWAYS” Unit 1. So, calling him “number two” doesn’t register for a fraction of a second in my brain. That would be like calling Elvis Presley, “the queen of rock-n-roll?” it’s obvious, their Lawyer, didn’t do his homework.
Now, I want it known to all, that when I write, “Business Plan Part Deuce” I mean, “Part 2” and not, “Part Shit.” I still have to laugh when I think about my time on the witness stand. Next time I take the witness stand, I’ll be suing the O’Dovero family for $50,000,000, plus “pain and suffering” plus “damages” plus “my 1/9th inheritance” and “Lawyer fees.” When the Law suites come about, I hope my father, brother Pete and twin sister Jean keep the same Lawyer.
Today is June 21, 2021, the summer solstice. If I was a druid some 4,000 to 5,000 years ago, I’d be partying at Stonehenge right now. Do you know what else June 21, 2021 is? Day 1009 that the O’Dovero family with their $140,000,000 empire has left me homeless. The O’Dovero family is never going to be there for me. Oh, some of them will tell you, “We’re giving Jerry an allowance to live on and offered him a room in the basement of mom’s rental house.” “What more should a disabled man that needs a wheelchair want or need?” “We’re not going to waist our precious money on a cry baby that won’t worship us as The Gods We Are!” Jerry can’t even come visit us inside our houses without our help. We built our houses with at least one step. That way, he’s reminded every time he visits that we’re not disabled and he is. We can live in houses with steps. But we’ll drag him up the steps, steps we put there to keep him and others like him from visiting. You know how those disabled people are? They don’t work. If you make it easy for them to visit, they will. We can’t have that! You can’t encourage them! The next thing you know, they’ll want jobs and doors they can easily open without those automatic door closers set on crush anything or anyone that gets in their way and bathrooms they can get their wheelchairs into. If we don’t stop them, they’ll want the right to vote, transport women over state lines and to be able to sing out loud in church without having to wear the Scarlet “S” on their shirts.
True story. When I was 12 years old, or so, I was told by a cousin that I shouldn’t sing so loud in church. I wasn’t singing that loud. It wasn’t the volume of my voice that he was referring too. Thanks, Cuz. Scared me for life.
Don’t mind me. I’m just in one of those moods where I feeling like telling it like it really is. Not one member of this family built their houses barrier-free. I just want the family to know, it didn’t go unnoticed by me. Every family member that built their houses could have dug the basement 1 foot or 2 feet deeper. They, and no one for that matter should have a step or two blocking the entrance to their houses. As we speak, or as I write this, my loving, caring, thoughtful father is building a new house for my twin sister and her husband. They, my twin sister and her husband already own property on Lake Independence with two houses on it, not one, but two houses on it. Did they dig the basement 1 foot or 2 feet deeper, so their new house wouldn’t have steps?
Do you think this new house will be barrier-free?
Business plan, part two. Crap, it’s already 10:23pm.
Before I get started, I want to point out something that hurts.
Do you think a woman could love me?
Do you think a woman would marry me?
Do you think I’d make a good father?
Do you know my mother has never asked me if I ever loved someone and thought about marriage? Neither has my father or my brother Pete that woke me up at 9pm the night of the accident and took me out. My twin sister has never asked me if I wanted to marry and have children. I could continue though out the entire family, including spouses, until I reached my youngest brother Paul. One night, sometime during the five years he was living with me for free in California, Paul asked me if I wanted a wife and children. It was around 3am in the morning and we might have had an adult beverage or two. I told Paul yes, but I don’t have the confidence to ask a woman to marry me and have my child when I barely have enough income to pay for the apartment, we were living in. And what if my health becomes an issue and I’m unable to work or worse yet, I die? I’m not going to bring a child into this world that I’m not sure I can support. Paul looked at me and said, “You don’t have to worry. We’d take care of your kid.”
My family has no problem leaving me homeless, including Paul, but they’d look after my wife and children if I had them?
Every day my mother, father and the rest of the O’Dovero family leaves me homeless, their message to me is loud and clear. We have $140,000,000 empire, but we’re going to leave you homeless so you never have the confident to ask someone to share their life with you.
Your life and happiness doesn’t matter to us.
I’m back. Sometimes I just don’t feel like writing. Here’s something that I’d check into if I were running things? Scholarships and Internships. I’d work with Northern Michigan University on scholarships. I’d offer a scholarship to employees of the empire or their families. If an employee wants to attend NMU while working for the empire, I’d try to work with them. It’s not an area I’m familiar with, so I’d want to see how other business handle it. But it’s an area I’d run towards, not from. I’m proud of my bachelor’s degree. Especially since I’m the only son of Peter and Lois that has one. Then there’s internships? I know nothing about them either, but I can see them being offered by several areas of the empire as well. Why internships? You would have a college graduate already trained in the way the company operates. You’d be aware of their work habits and their business experience before committing to hiring them full time. After all the negative publicity the family is allowing by leaving me homeless, scholarships and internships are a way to try create a positive image. Also, giving back to your employees and working with the local university is the right thing to do.
Oh, this is a thought that popped into my head when I ran across my brother-in-law Mark. Technically, he and my step sister Connie are divorced, so I’m not sure what he is to me, but I still think of him as family. The idea was about the old hospital building and parking ramp. I told Mark, if it’s available, I’d see if it’s possible buy the building with government grants and turn it into a homeless shelter, woman’s shelter, daycare, after school facility for kids and whatever else smart minds can come up with? Maybe set up a foundation to buy the building and run these things? Write up a business plan and submit it to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. It’s a hug building with a several story parking ramp attached. The parking ramp could be used for an ice rink, archery range, volley ball, tennis court, bumper cars, r/c cars and God knows what else?
If I had to guess, that hospital building is going to be vacant for a long time. Or not? What do I know? I’m just a homeless long-haired hippy living in a van down by the river. But if I was running a $140,000,000 empire, I’d talk with the mayor and other leaders in the community and throw feelers out there to see if anything gains traction?
I was just thinking. It would be a great project for step sister Connie. What a way to redeem herself by doing something as grand as taking a vacant building and turning it into community center that could benefit hundreds or several hundred members of the Marquette community?
It’s now Saturday night. It’s alright for fighting. Aww, I’d rather be a lover than a fighter. I told you the story of the three roosters? How about the story of the three wise monkeys?
The three wise monkeys are shown as, one covering its eyes (see no evil), one covering its ears (hear no evil) and the third covering its mouth (speak no evil). Do you think that’s what most of the O’Dovero family are doing? Covering their eyes so they see no evil? Covering their ears so they hear no evil? And, covering their mouths so they speak no evil?
I’ll come back to this thought later.
Two years ago, when I drove into Marquette for the first time in 16 years (homeless), I couldn’t help but noticed all the new (new to me anyway) apartment buildings. The last time I was in Marquette was in 2004. That’s when stepsister Connie made up the tremendous lie that I was depressed because I was a cripple in a wheelchair and I lost all my money in the stock market so I was in Marquette to shoot Peter E. O’Dovero (my father) and then commit suicide. I have a 4-page letter from stepsister Connie saying just that and more. That summer I bought 110 acres of land for $95,000 in cash, but hey! Why ruin a good lie with the truth.
Do you think stepsister Connie is jealous of me?
The O’Dovero family leaving me homeless sucks. I now become angry at the drop of a hat. I hate this feeling.
Back to the business plan.
One last thought. Six months after stepsister Connie made me the enemy of the state (2004), stepsister Connie and the other two trustees of the trust hired Peter to run the trust. I was telling the family for decades that he stole my insurance money. What did they think was going to happen after they gave him legal authority to run the trust? It’s been five years of fighting Peter, brother Pete and twin sister Jean to get the trust, life insurance and the documents, deeds, lease agreements, etc. back from them. Shame on the three of you. And shame on you stepsister Connie AND the rest of the family for making me the Enemy of the State so you could hire Peter and give him control of the trust. Again, what did all of you think was going to happen when you gave the keys to the kingdom (control of the trust) to a father that I’ve been telling you for years that his moral compass is broken?
OK. Mellow! And they call it mellow yellow!
The trust, and the family should have been building apartment buildings 15 years ago. If I was running $140,000,000 empire, I’d build an apartment complex like the one I lived in in California. It had 15 three story apartment building on ½ the city block and a grocery store and a dozen other business on the other ½ half. No one in the O’Dovero family thinks big like that. Most of the family is content with working with their backs and not their brains. And I blame Peter, Lois, brother Pete and stepsister Connie (The 4-Horseman).
So, you think the best thing that could happen for the O’Dovero family is for The 4-Horseman to retire? Since the 85-year-old Peter will never retire, give him the task of building the apartment/grocery store complex.
Another underutilized area the family should be busy making money at is the housing market. I understand Peter does have a housing project on the airport property, but his construction company isn’t building the houses. Why not use the construction company to build houses. Actually, I’d see about partnering up with a local home builder, that has a good reputation and go on a house building marathon. I could use a new house of my dreams to live in.
Now that I think about it, I’m thinking the high-end housing market might also be a great place to make money. I don’t know how much land the family owns off of highway 492, but if there is enough land, I’d see about building a private high-end exclusive housing development. Again, if there is enough land, plot out a sub-division for a dozen houses or so surrounding a nine-hole golf course. It seems to me that the rich like to play golf. Make the place private by putting up a main gate at the entrance to the complex. The road beyond the gate would be private, so the family would maintain it. Now you charge the property owners an annual fee to maintain the road and the golf course. As for the houses, make them $1,500,000+ houses. 5 bedrooms, 6 to 7 baths, plus bowling allies, entertainment centers, theaters and whatever else the ultra-rich would want. Again, it could be a good place to have Peter occupy is talents, so he’s not trying to manage the rest of his empire, which I have to wonder if he’s the right person to be doing it?
I don’t play golf, but I’d live in the first spec house, as long as I owned it.
It’s Sunday now. I was kind of braindead last night. OK. It’s time for a business plan for a broken family. Right now, a family with about 40 members and a net worth of around $140,000,000 is leaving me, a son, brother, stepbrother and uncle, that has been paralyzed from the chest down for the past 40+ years, homeless. To add insult to injury, they stole every penny of my $700,000 of insurance money 40+ years ago and invested it for themselves. Then to continue with their betrayal and discrimination, even though they’ve made around $50,000,000 from that stolen blood money, they’ve disowned me and left me homeless.
Wait! There’s more Ron Popeil. The father, Peter O’Dovero is suing his children because he’s not the businessman he once was and is afraid of going bankrupt? There’s two of Peter’s and Lois’ children that want to win the sue their brothers and stepsister for money lottery. Then there’s the mother, that’s in her 80s, who sued the husband/father for divorce, again for money. Wouldn’t a succession plan and proper wills, like I did 30 years ago, do the same thing? And, it would show he rest of the family that the O’Dovero family doesn’t need to use the court system to accomplish basic family estate planning? Oh yeah, then there’s the father that gave only one son 15% of the construction company (for free), none of the other children, just one son, and then tried suing in court to get the 15% back, plus $4,000,000. Which caused the son to counter sue the father to get the $4,000,000 Law suite dismissed and the 15% of the construction, which he received for free, bought out in cash.
How many cabins and houses did Peter and Lois give to their children? How many automobiles did Peter and Lois give to their children? How many businesses did they give to their children? How much wealth are they giving to them now while they leave me homeless?
And again, even though they’ve made $50,000,000 from the money they stole from me, they discriminate against me. They disowned me, and leave me homeless, while I’m going through a period of poor health and nearly died three times in the past three years while homeless.
If this isn’t a fucked up broken family, then I don’t know wat is?
Ok. It’s easy to be cynical! How do we fix it?
The way I see it, and I’ve been wrong, so don’t quote me on this, but I see a bunch of children waiting for Peter and Lois to die, so they get their wheelbarrow full of money? A stack of 1,000,000 one-dollar bills would rise about 358 feet into the air. So, you multiply that by 140 and you have a stack of $1 bills rising into the sky 53,700 feet. That’s a lot of wheelbarrows full of money. So, if they could put me in a nursing home, they could divide that 10-mile-high pile of $1 bills 8 ways instead of 9. And the family wouldn’t have to make up for the sins of the past either. Shame on you O’Dovero family.
My business plan would ask the 4-horsemen to retire. Recombined the empire under one management team and run it like a corporation. Nearly three years ago, when the family flew me back here to Marquette to save the trust from Peter trying to steal it from them through the courts and then sent me back penniless to die in my van, my mother, brother Jim and the rest of the family told me there was nothing they could do for me because all the family’s $150,000,000 (at the time) was tied up in the courts. Then for the next two years, brother Jim kept telling me there was nothing he could do because he needed 9 signatures (6 brothers, a stepsister, twin sister and mine) for him to financially help me with any of the money from the $150,000,000 empire. So, he did nothing for 2+ years. Jim wouldn’t even hire me? Why? Maybe because I can read and understand contracts, deeds, lease agreements, will, trusts, partnership agreements, and more? Maybe the longer he keeps me homeless, the better the chance he has to make him and his family the richest O’Doveros on the face of the planet? Last summer he set his son Jimmy up in a construction company. Brother Jim runs the trust. He also runs Lois’s empire. Guess who’s construction company brother Jim is going hire to do the work for the $100,000,000 empire he runs.
Brother Jim won’t hire me, but he’ll set his son up with a construction company and hire him to work for him?
Even though it hurts like fucking hell that brother Jim can be so cruel and selfish by leaving me homeless to die, I still believe he should run the family empire.
So, for the first time in the history of the O’Dovero family, the family should have in writing an organizational chart. The top of the chart should sit the chairman of the board. Reporting to him should be a vice-chairman. Then I think there should be 4 board members.
So, when it comes to making decisions for the family empire. None of this fucking God Damn nothing I can do shit that brother Jim, Lois and the rest of the cold hearted O’Dovero family has been telling me for the past three years? 40+ years! It’s just the lies they tell each other so they can justify to themselves why it’s OK to disown me and leave me homeless to die.
I’m sorry. NO! I’M NOT! If I go to hell for feeling and saying this, I wouldn’t be the only O’Dovero going to hell.
If brother Jim wants to run the family, then he needs to quit hiding like a coward, or a thief, if it’s his plan to make himself and his family the richest O’Doveros on the face of the planet while he turns his back on me.
In a real business, the chairman makes the final decisions. That’s why they get paid the big bucks. So, if brother Jim wants to be the chairman, he should make the tough decisions like, the family making up for the sins of the past. A good start would be to give me $1,000,000 to build the house of my dreams and $500,000 to buy a motorhome. And, stop hiding behind family or Lawyers or whoever or whatever he hides behind to leave me homeless.
There was a wise king named Solomon. You might have herd of him. When two woman were fighting over an infant child, king Solomon asked for a sword so he could cut the infant child in half. His said he would give each woman ½ of the infant child. Within seconds, he found out which of the two woman was the real mother of the child. He didn’t hide behind bullshit and act like three dumb monkeys. King Solomon acted like a leader and did the right thing.
In my business plan, brother Jim should get a 5-year term and then retire. I would like to be the vice-chair with a 5-year term and then retire. The 4 board members should have a 2-year term to start with, then need to be reconfirmed every other year.
Now! This is important! The board members could come from anyone in the family 25 years of age or older. That means both spouses and grandchildren would be eligible. None of the bullshit where you give a family member a title just to keep them quiet. Every board member needs to be qualified and willing to put in 40+ hours a week working to build a $500,000,000 empire. That means anyone that wants to be a board member needs to submit a business plan and spend 8 months or so in Marquette. If we can’t find 4 qualified people in the family to sit on the board, then we should look outside the family.
Then each division should have a manager or a president that reports to the board monthly.
It’s 11pm, so I’m going to fast forward a bit.
The hardest thing in any family is for the older generations to pass on the control and wealth onto the younger generations. My plan to fix this broken family into a highly organized well-oiled running machine, where everyone shares the wealth, is simple. Turn the empire into a real estate investment trust, or a REIT and take it public on the NYSE. When we take it public, we sell 45% of the stock with an IPO. That way the family will control the board of directors that will run the new REIT. We may have to partnership with a few other privately own commercial real estate companies in the Marquette area. Maybe? Maybe not? It’s possible that once we have the REIT, we can simply grow the company by buying other commercial real estate in the Marquette area with the stock.
How many other family-owned commercial real estate companies would like a way to easily pass their wealth to their children? Or grow their company?
Do you know what else you can do when you own companies that have stock ownership? You can issue stock whenever you like. In my world, the REIT should have a dividend payout of around 10%. Could you imagine a world when your child or grandchild graduates from college, you reward them with $1,000,000 worth of stock? And with a 10% dividend? You can do the math. And if they don’t go to college, then they have to wait until they’re 25. That means the O’Dovero children can go to college and become Lawyers and doctors and politicians. God, I hope not politicians, but then who am I to judge?
Another thing the stock market is good for? Corrections every 10 years or so. Say you own $25,000,000 of stock at $20.00 a share. The market crashes and the stock drops to $10.00 per share. You could buy $5,000,000 or $10,000,000 worth of stock at the $10.00 price all on margin. A year later and the stock is back at the $20.00 per share, you just made $5,000,000 or $10,000,000.
Another way the 1% in the world are the 1%, are stock options.
I’m tired, so I’m going to call it a night. But I think I made my point on how this family is being run by children. Those that can’t see the future should retire. Those that can lead should lead and the rest should support those that can.
One more thing!
Every member of the O’Dovero family 10 years old and older should take out a sheet of paper and write down where they’d like to be 5 years from now. If you are under 40, make it 5 years on one side of the sheet and 10 years on the other.
Then when you’re done, are the 4-horseman and the current brother Jim going to get you there?
Or, would my plan have a better chance?
Before I go to sleep. I think the family should do the right thing and make up for the sins of the past. I told you a good place to start in an earlier blog. I’d like to add to it. I really would like to start my own consulting business. I would like my office to be the entire top floor of the O’Dovero Professional Building located at 310 W. Washington street. I don’t think I’d be asking too much for mom to do the right thing and to put that building in my name.
It’s a new day and a new thought.
I’ve slept on it for a few days. Brother Jim told me two years ago that he read my blog once and didn’t agree with what I wrote. Because he didn’t agree with what I wrote, he told me to my face that he’d never read my blog again. A real leader wouldn’t act like that.
A real leader does the right thing.
Jim, my next blog is going to be all about you. You are going to be fighting for me, or against me. It’s up to you. What kind of a person do you want the world to know you as?
Jim, my starting number is $50,000,000. That includes Peter’s 1/3. If your starting number is less than 2/3rd of $25,000,000 (Starting number), I’ll see you and every member of the family 18 years of age that doesn’t believe this family owes me $50,000,000 in court.
Jim, you should have hired me. But you just couldn’t do that could you? Is your moral compass all fucked up like mom, dad, Connie and Petsy (brother Pete)? Or is your ego so big that you can’t allow a lower-class citizen like a brother that’s paralyzed and needs a wheelchair tell you that you are wrong? (discrimination) Or is it just about money and the less I get means the more you and your family gets?
I can’t wait for your answer when you’re asked that question on the witness stand.
I can’t wait to get every member on the witness stand. Or maybe I’ll get lucky and the reporters from the Mining Journal will ask the family all the questions that need to be asked? And get answers!
Jim, I think you could lead this family. But it takes a leader to lead. You’ve left me homeless for 3 years. Right now, you are not a real leader. Be a true leader! A real leader! Or be like mom, dad, Connie and Petsy and turn your back on family because of money.
Oh, one last thought. I’m going to start hanging around the Register of Deeds office. I’m going to start keeping tabs on which O’Doveros are buying, selling and transferring land while the O’Dovero family with it’s $140,000,000 empire disowns me and leaves me homeless.
One more thing, if you’re a spouse or a grandchild of Peter and Lois, don’t go down with the sinking ship. Let me know that you believe the family should be ashamed of themselves and start fighting for me. You are part of the family as well. Please don’t act like the three dumb monkeys. Pretending like you don’t know what’s going on doesn’t give you an excuse to turn your back on me. I’m fighting for my life. My life matter!
I’m never going to stop fighting for the millions the O’Doveros owes me!
The longer it takes the uglier its going to be.
I’m disowned and homeless. I have nothing to lose! Except my life!
I’d also like to ask those that like to make videos. Could some of you make me videos of Nationwide is not on your side? I’ll send the best ones to Saturday Night Live.
It’s a new day and I woke up pissy mood. My muscle spasms haven’t been friendly the past couple of days. I did see a urologist two days ago. I can’t get an appointment in Marquette for an ultrasound on my bladder util the end of August. That means no operation on my bladder for a long time. I can get one sooner in Escanaba. After the 4th of July weekend I’m going to look into it.
There is more I wanted to put into this blog entry, but when I feel this way, I don’t like to write.
I’m sick and tired of being homeless. It’s turning me into an angry-bitter man. If I would have wrote a paragraph on “Where I’d like to be 5 or 10 years ago,” no where would it say, “I want to be an angry-bitter man.”
I have no doubt in my mind that there isn’t a single member of the O’Dovero family that thinks or believes that this family did anything wrong when they, AND I MEAN THEY, as in every member of the O’Dovero family stole my insurance money. That every member of the O’Dovero family stole, and continue to steal my dreams, that that $700,000 MY INSURANCE MONEY WOULD HAVE MADE COME TRUE.
Do you know what a motorhome cost the O’Dovero family that has $140,000,000 empire?
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
My buddy Jay Are did the math for me.
Are you ready?
Are you sitting down?
OK. It’s hard to believe, but its easy to verify.
All you have to do is to move the decimal point of the $140,000,000 empire three places. If you move the decimal point three places “to the left,” that would leave you with $140,000.
Do you know what the percentage of $140,000 of a $140,000,000 empire is?
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
It’s such of an unbelievable number, if you were me, you might be in a pissy mood as well.
I can’t help but wonder if any of my loving-caring family is having a 4th of July party at their homes this weekend? I haven’t been invited to any. Wait I better check my phone. Nope! No invites. I did see where my sister-in-law Laurie tried calling me. I noticed that last night. I was at a gas station pumping gas into my van and my phone was on the charger in the van. Pumping my own gas isn’t that hard to do. Even with paralyzed hands. I usually park at the pumps at the very end. That way I reduce to risk of someone accidently bumping into my wheelchair lift. Again, pumping the gas isn’t too hard. Swiping my credit card, not so easy. So, I usually wheel up to someone that’s getting gas and politely ask them if they can swipe my card for me.
Laurie is the only member in the entire O’Dovero family that calls me. But we have a rule, we don’t talk about family. She might think the family is wrong, but we don’t talk about it, so who knows. As far as I know, she has never fought for me to get the $50,000,000 this family has made off my broken neck. I say this because I’m still homeless.
So Laurie, if you believe the O’Dovero family owes me millions, and I mean $50,000,000, then its time to start fighting for me. And, I’ve been in a pissy mood. That’s why I haven’t called you back.
Do you know, and why would you? Dumb question. Anyway, for the entire 25+ years I spent living in California, I was never, not once, invited to anyone in the O’Dovero family’s house for either Thanksgiving or Christmas? Why do you think that is? Because I have long hair? Because I’m a college graduate and I might look at them as uneducated baboons? I would never do that. everyone is intelligent in one way or another. Can you believe my loving-caring mother referred to one of her sons as “her stupid son?” I’m not lying. After a few of her “Mrs. O” drinks at a casino, my mother called one of her sons as, her stupid son.
I wonder what she calls me behind my back?
I can’t wait for my thoughtful family to answer the question on the witness stand, “Why didn’t you ever invite Jerry to Marquette for Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
I can’t wait to tell you what I’ve heard my family has told others. “Jerry doesn’t like cold weather, so we don’t invite him.”
O’Dovero family! That’s discrimination! When you make decisions “for me” based on me have a disability, without talking to me like an adult, is discrimination.
I could probably win a discrimination case against the O’Dovero family without a Lawyer.
I can’t keep doing this. I’m not writing this blog to hurt the O’Dovero family or make them look bad. I’m trying to help them. Because they won’t talk to me about these issues, I’m pointing them out here in this blog, so they can learn from them.
You can lead three dumb monkeys to water, but you can’t make them drink, see or hear the truth.
1/10th of 1%. That’s how much of the precious $140,000,000 empire the O’Dovero family could have given me so, I wouldn’t be homeless.
All my mother and father would have had to do is for each of them give me back the $100,000 blood money I gave them 40+ years ago and I wouldn’t been homeless for the past three years.
All my brothers, sisters and their families would have had to do is to talk to Peter and Lois O‘Dovero and ask them to do the right thing. Or,
My loving and caring brothers, sisters and their families could have decided to forgo just one year’s distribution from the trust that I wrote, started and put in motion for them and gave it to me, so I could buy a motorhome to live in.
I guess it’s time to look for a Lawyer.
Happy 4th of July
Oh, I got my second shot. 🙂
Good afternoon race fans. I’m now in sunny Fond du Lac Wisconsin. Well, it was partly sunny earlier today. I just watched the Indy 500. Watching it brought back memories. I’ll never forget the year (1990), when the sun was shining, the temperature was in the 90s and I was wandering the Indianapolis 500 infield by myself. Well, with 250,000 of my soon to be best friends, I was in the process of meeting. I wasn’t wearing shoes because my buddy Mike fell asleep on the floor of my brown van and my shoes and proper shirt were on the other side of him, in the van. For the last 20 to 30 laps of the race I was doing wheelies on the black and white checkered square winner’s circle that the #30 Domino’s Hot One (Lola?) was soon going to be resting on. In seconds, it went from, no one cared I was there (excepted for maybe a beautiful model or two. I looked up into the stands and one, two or so smiled and waved to me), into a mosh pit. Now everyone was looking at me and saying, “what the hell are you (me in a wheelchair) doing here.” So, when the gate to go out on the race track opened up, security was so glad I went through it, knowing I was in an area I had no proper access too. It was only minutes later I was shaking hands with Tom Monaghan (owner/founder of Domino’s Pizza). I actually shook his hand before he met up with his winning driver, Arie Luyendyk. I want everyone to know, maybe, these last half a dozen years, my life hasn’t been the happiest? But prior to this, I’ve had a lot of fun and memorable experiences. I didn’t need millions to enjoy life. Don’t get me wrong, a million or two wouldn’t have sucked. # tag smiley face? or whatever that stuff is? When my story goes viral, and to court, I’m pretty sure most of the people testifying, both for and against me, will admit that I’ve been a pretty respectable ambassador for the O’Dovero family. Could you imagine what I could have accomplished, not just me, but the family as well, if I had the love, support and respect of the O’Dovero family?
Before I forget, I finally got the vaccine shot. I was joking with my buddy Steve and told him that I now have the government tracking device in my arm. He responded with, “They’ve been tracking you for years. It’s call a cell phone.” I had to laugh, because it’s true.
I was going to start working on business plan part II, but I made a promise to the CEO of NationWide Is Not On Your Side (NWINOYS) that if Nationwide is not on your side doesn’t start paying for my medical expenses that pertain to my spinal cord injury, that I would send a letter to Saturday Night Live and tell them that Nationwide was not on my side. The name of Nationwide’s CEO? Kirt Walker.
Truth be told, Nationwide is the tipping stone that turned my life into a living hell. Yes, I had to pay my mother and father $100,000 each for their (so called pain and suffering) and then my father stole the rest of my $700,000 insurance money. Money that was supposed to build me the house of my dreams and provide me with a comfortable income so I could marry a wonderful woman. With the comfortable income, my beautiful wife and I would feel safe to bring our children into this challenging world. Then like most “normal families,” my wife and children would love me and be there for me when I grow old. But the O’Dovero family doesn’t seem to see the world as I do. The O’Dovero family has turned their backs on me and left me homeless to live in a living hell. They have $140,000,000 empire, $50,000,000 made from my stolen money. The O’Dovero should be ashamed of themselves for leaving me homeless.
But truth be told, it was my insurance company, Nationwide’s decision to turn their backs on me 5 years ago that finally broke the wheels on my apple cart and turned my life into a living hell.
Two years ago, I wrote Mr. Walker a letter. The next thing I know, Nationwide is back to paying for my prescriptions and other medical expenses. Well, some of them. But enough for me to get a footing so I could start talking to the O’Dovero family. I was hoping the family would admit to their sins of the past. Well, you can see how that’s working out?
In the letter to Mr. Walker, I made him a promise. I promised him I’d send a letter to Saturday Night Live if he, and Nationwide continued their evil ways.
Give me a second, I’ll find the promise I made to Mr. Walker.
Oh, I can see I was in an angry mood that day. I think I was only days removed from one of my near-death hospital stays and it doesn’t look like a held much back. The next 4 paragraphs are the promise I made if Nationwide didn’t start paying the bills that they were legally required to and had always paid in the past.
Dear Mr. Walker,
( then a couple of pages of telling my story that I’ve been telling you, then this promise )
Now should you and Nationwide tell me to go to hell or put this on the 40-year stall, I will hire a dream team of Lawyers and sue you and Nationwide for $100,000,000. If you don’t think a jury will give me $100,000,000, imagine your commercial’s playing on a TV staring the multimillionaire Payton Manning and me on the witness stand. Actually, sitting in my wheelchair in front of the witness stand because I’m unable to get out of my wheelchair and actually sit in the witness stand. Picture me telling the 12 jurors that I bought an insurance policy and the previous insurance companies paid the bills, but since Nationwide took over, well you know where this is going?
Well, just in case you don’t. Picture turning on the TV on a Saturday night in the not-too-distant future. Saturday Night Live has an episode or skit where Payton Manning’s character just finishes a Nationwide commercial then meets your character. The two of you light up cigars and pour glasses of Scotch. The phone rings and the screen splits in two. The other screen shows a sweatshop type office where the Nationwide claims adjuster, Jennifer Kurth is on the other end of the phone line. Her character says, “Mr. Walker, sorry to bother you. This is Jennifer Kurth, we have a man in a wheelchair and he’s homeless because Nationwide quit paying on his claim. What should I do?” You turn to Payton Manning, your commercial is playing in the background, you toast him while the two of you say, “Screw him!”
Then a clip from the now passed Saturday Night Live character Chris Farley saying his famous quote, “Living in a van down by the river.”
Mr. Walker, read my blog (Jer177.com). You’ll see I’m not that person. Please don’t make me become that person or even much worse. But I’m not feeling well and I won’t continue to be the man I am, the person I love being if I continue being homeless! I’m losing faith in everyone and everything! Help me believe there are still good people left. It’s becoming harder and harder every morning I wake up cold in this van!
I guess I was in a pissy mood that day. The new claims adjuster I’m supposed to deal with, Ms. New-Lucas, comes up with excuse after excuse why Nationwide is no long required to pay my medical expenses. The 1st letter to Mr. Walker was 5 or 6 pages long. That was 2 years ago. I recently sent him a 15-page letter telling him I’m not impressed with Nationwide not being on my side. I think I really pissed them off, because they are back to not paying for anything again.
It looks like I’m going to be in court with the O’Dovero family and Nationwide for the next several years.
Should I have to sue the O’Dovero family, I’ll have to sue the entire O’Dovero family. I won’t sue them for stealing my insurance money, I’ll sue for discrimination. I believe it will be the first of its kind. A member of a family with a physical disability that is suing the entire family for discrimination. It will be a land mark case. The type of case that sets a precedence for all future discrimination cases across the United States and possible some or most of the world. It’s not a good time to be discriminating anywhere in the world right now. The O’Dovero family name will become well known worldwide.
As for NationWide Is Not On Your Side (nwinoys), I opened an email address to find out if there are others out there that Nationwide has turned their backs on as well. Nationwide is on TV every day telling you, me and everyone in the world that they are on your side.
I’m homeless because of them turning their back on me. They are not on my side.
Are they on your side?
If not, and you might be interested in filing a class action Lawsuit against Nationwide with me? Send me your contact information to this new email address I created for the sole purpose of a possible class action Lawsuit.
NationWide Is Not On Your Side (nwinoys) Has a nice ring to it? It kind of gets stuck in your head. Nationwide is not on your side!
To be honest with you, I don’t want to sue anyone.
But I don’t want to live the rest of my life homeless until I die either.
I’ll start the ball rolling against “Nationwide is not on your side” with this email address. I’m hoping, if the class action Lawsuit is required, that someone a lot smarter and more motivated takes over.
Oh, if you want to send a joke or a skit to Saturday Night Live, here is a web site I found.
which tells you to,
Mail the contents to: Writers (or a specific cast member) c/o
Saturday Night Live
30 Rockefeller Plaza
New York, NY 10112
Have you ever watched that show on TV called, “Seconds from Disaster?” It tells how it usually takes a series of things going wrong to causes the plane to fall from the sky, train to jump the tracks or the wheels to come off the soap box derby car and kill hundreds. You might say it wasn’t just the ever so loving and caring O’Dovero family stealing my money, or the warm-hearted Nationwide Insurance company’s failure to honor the terms of the insurance policy I bought when I was 16 years old that lead to this living hell, but a series of events going wrong. My downward spiral started 10 years ago, or so when I was robbed. I had a very valuable gold and silver coin collection stolen from me.
Why did I invest the little money I had in rare gold and silver coins?
Let’s go back to my college days when I was studying finance. I was told about a time before time. Actually, a time around the time of my accident. Do you know who the current Chair of the Federal Reserve is? or Fed as it’s also known by? If you are running $140,000,000 empire you should know! How many of my brothers, step sister, twin sister or their families could name the current Fed Chair? How about the woman that ran the Fed before him? Or the Fed Chair that George W Bush nominated? I’m pretty sure anyone running a multi-million-dollar trust for 30 years must remember the (Rockstar) Chair of the Federal Reserve from 1987 through 2006? The Chairman of the Federal Reserve I’d like to talk about isn’t any of them. I want to talk about the man who changed the financial world as we know it. His name is Paul Volker. The Chairman of the Federal Reserve before all of them. Now, before I go any further, I want to state that I’m going from memory, so my facts or memory might be a little off. But I’m pretty sure I’m close enough for government work.
Do you remember the 1970s? The 70s had the tail end of the Vietnam war, gas shortages and high inflation. The 1970s had a lot more going for it, like Alice Cooper (who I’m told by the “self-proclaimed” mouth of the South) doesn’t remember the 70s), Watergate and Woman’s rights. You’ve come a long way baby. I think that was the slogan for woman’s rights. It’s probably sexist now a days. So, let’s not go there. Let’s talk about guns and butter and the Vietnam war. I don’t know if colleges still use graphs about guns and butter anymore, but when I was in college, it was all the rage. Back in the 70s, the theory was there were only so much, or maybe so little resources available in the world. So, the theory was, either the private side of things (butter) used the word’s resources, or the government did (guns). The theory was, if the government used too much of the resources it would starve the private sector, the economy would go bust or into a recession. It was believed the government was inefficient when it came to getting the best use of the world’s resources. If the private sector used too much of the world’s resources, the economy would expand too much and too fast for it to handle and we’d get an economic boom/bubble and inflation.
Now a-days I don’t think they worry about guns and butter anymore. Why? Paul Volker changed the way the Fed controls the economy and how it keeps inflation in check. Now-a-days the Chair of the Fed raises or lowers the interest rates. Prior to Paul Volker, the Fed used the supply of money to control the economy and left interest rates fixed. The Fed basically told the banks how much money they could loan out to people and businesses. That was inefficient because the banks would often loan money to their crooked friends rather than who had the best business ideas. Add in guns and butter to the equation and the economy just wasn’t that stable or as productive as it could have been. But the 1970s changed all that. With the US government spending money like a drunken sailor on the Vietnam war, computers making business more efficient, worldwide trade bringing the rest of the world’s economies into the black after WWII, anyone and everyone that wanted a job had one, and the Middle East oil fiasco, much of the world was running on all 8 cylinders. With full employment and high oil prices, the US economy started to suffer something it never seen before, high inflation. The Fed tried contracting the money supply the old fashion way, but it was like pissing on a forest fire. They called it “Stagflation.”
Paul Volker, the brilliant man he was changed the world. He decided not to control the money supply with bank policies (Remember back when banks would give away toasters and shotguns to get people to deposit money into their banks, because they couldn’t offer a higher interest rate?). Instead, he started to control the money supply and the economy with interest rates. Banks were now free to charge and pay whatever interest rates they wanted. AND the Federal Reserve did something that no Federal Reserve has ever done in the past or would ever do on purpose again, the Federal Reserve sent the US economy (and possibly other economies in countries across the globe) into a recession. There used to be the saying, “When the US gets the sniffles, the rest of the world gets a cold.” Anyway, It worked! Interest rates went up to 15% in 1980. Banks quit making loans to their crooked friends (as often). The piss poor business ideas (many) dried up and were replaced with good ideas, like computers, cell phones, the internet, K-cup coffee makers and __________, _________, ________. You can fill in the blanks. The world became a better place (financially) and possibly the way we function on a daily basis. Inflation dropped because money, capital and resources were no longer being wasted and the 1980 recession (possibly the worst recession in decades gave way to the new world we now live in and love. Paul Volker’s (and other’s) tough decisions created an economic boom that started in the early 80s and continued uninterrupted right through the turn on the century (2000), and some can make a case that it never really stopped. Some might say we had hiccups along the way. Personally, I wouldn’t call them hiccups. It’s greedy, cheating, lowlife rich bastards that only care about money and should go to prison that cause some very serious financial problems, but instead got bailed out by the store boughten politicians that for some reason we keep reelecting into office. I was a registered voter in California, but since I became homeless, I haven’t voted. So, I’m going to stop here on my opinion of government policies. I’m happy to say, I’m now a registered voter in Michigan. But until I vote again, I don’t feel I have the right to complain and neither should you if you don’t vote. In a year and a half, I’ll tell you how I feel about things. And just a warning. Make sure you’re wearing your seat belt when I start on our loving, caring politicians. I better delete this when I proof read this before I post. I don’t want a bullseye on my back.
I don’t know how much you pay attention to the economy lately, but if you do, the Federal Reserve is “still” the major player. So, if you don’t know the chair’s name, shame on you. When I hear him/them say anything, I listen. When I say Fed, I mean central banks all round the world.
Do you know what just about every country in the world’s central banks were doing during the 1990s? They were selling their gold reserves and buying US government treasuries. The US government realized that it could keep spending money (buy guns) like a drunken sailor and it wouldn’t crowd out the private sector (butter) from expanding the economy. To spend money, the government needs to raise money. They do it with income taxes, tariffs and bake sales. And when that’s not enough, they sell US Treasuries. During the 1990s, central banks throughout the word realized that they could buy those US Treasuries and receive the interest payments from them. Do you know how much interest you receive from a wheelbarrow full of gold, or a dump truck full of gold? Zero, nothing, nada. Remember the Bruce Willis Diehard movie were the bad guys blasted a hole on Wallstreet, drove dump-tucks down into it, loaded them up with gold, and then tried to make a get-away with it? Actually, it’s not that farfetched. Just about every country and a few very rich people have rooms full of gold under Wall Street.
In the late 1990s, I decided I needed to invest what little money I had into assets that would keep me from going homeless when I was older. I didn’t want to have to depend on my family. Look how that turned out for me? So, I bought gold and silver coins in the late 90s when gold was under $400 an ounce and silver was in the $4 range. The central banks all over the world were flooding the market with gold by selling their gold reserves and buying US treasuries. It depressed the price of gold for years. Anyone with a little common sense had to know that when the central banks ran out of gold to sell, the price was going to go up. And it did. It was a great plan for me until I was robbed 10 years or so.
So, my family stealing my money wasn’t enough to send me into a living hell. The 2nd leg of my spiral into hell was my gold and silver being robbed. Then my blood went anemic, so my health started to become an issue. #3 on the list of things not going my way anymore. With health issues, I stopped working. #4 on my shit list of not having fun anymore. Then Nationwide is not on your side pushed me over the edge. #5!
This is why I’m asking the entire O’Dovero family and Nationwide to make up for their past sins. I’m just asking them to do the right thing. Nothing more! Nothing less! But! As you know! The rich rarely do the right thing. It’s never going to happen. So, when I get to Marquette in a few weeks, I’m going to tell my story to the Mining Journal. And maybe the TV 6 news.
I’m not a looser or a failure! I’m not homeless because I gave up! I’m not asking and I’ll put a bullet in my head before I ask anyone to feel sorry for me because I’m paralyzed and need a wheelchair to get around.(Delete when proof read) I’m very proud of the life I made for myself. But sometimes things go wrong. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes we need help from the good people in this world.
I just want the pound of sugar that the O’Dovero family and the Nationwide Insurance Company owes me.
Will you please help me? If you think the family is wrong for stealing my money, investing it for themselves, keeping it and leaving me homeless. Please, send a letter to the editor of the Mining Journal and let them know. Or better yet, tell the O’Dovero family yourself.
The same goes for Nationwide. They’re on Facebook and other social media. Tell them you’re not drinking the Nationwide is on your side! Kool-aide! And reference my case.
Oh, remember the terrible 1980 worldwide recession the Federal Reserve created around the time of my accident? Do you know what else was going on in Marquette county around that time? The big expansions at the mines and powerhouse were coming to an end. I don’t know how many family-owned construction companies the area lost in the 80s, but I’m sure it was several. Did my stolen insurance money keep my father’s construction company from going bankrupt? Adding a complete ready-mix company with trucks and a 25,000 sqft building on 7 acres of land to the construction company, plus other assets, at no, nada, zero cost for the family when the rest of the world was falling apart, didn’t suck! And the family’s way of saying thank you is to leave me homeless? Shame on them!
When the reporters from the Mining Journal read my story, they’ll do their job and verify it. My memory may not be perfect, but I stand by everything I say is true to the best of my knowledge. I’m sure they’re not going to be like stepsister Connie and look for one word, period or comma out of place and say my entire blog is all lies because one word, period or comma is out of place.
One last thing and I’m going to say it out loud, if my brothers, twin sister, step sister AND THEIR FAMILIES, if they think it’s OK to continue on their path of turning backs on me by keeping quiet and not fighting for me to make up for the sins of the past, that it will all go away when Peter and Lois die? They’re fucking stupid. I know I’ve been disowned by my mother and father. I know I’m not in their wills. Why do you think I’m “now” writing about theirs and your betrayal?
It’s not to make you look bad! Every one of you are doing that to yourselves “every single day you leave me homeless!” And, if I had a Lawyer, he/she would be yelling at me to “shut the fuck up!” I’m telling your Lawyers my case, so they have time to prepare.
But you know who else I’m telling my story “the truth” too?
The judge is going to read this blog, BECAUSE some or all of you are going to “Force him/her to!”
Why? How? Every one of you are going to try say you didn’t disown me because of discrimination, but because you don’t like what I’m writing in this blog.
My blog? What blog? Your honor, exhibit 1 – my blog – jer177.com.
AGAIN! PLEASE HELP ME, AND THE O’DOVERO FAIMLY.
IF YOU THINK THEY SHOULD MAKE UP FOR PAST SINS, TELL THEM!
THEY WON’T LISTEN OR EVEN TALK TO ME!
I took a break. I’m back and going to post this tonight. This motel says I have to leave. They say the wheels on my wheelchair gets the floor too dirty. I guess it’s back to living in the van again.
It was nice sleeping in a bed without bedbugs. It’s hot out. It’s not going to be fun.
I’m still homeless!
I’ve been wintering in the beautiful city of Raleigh North Carolina. I don’t want to die, so I decided to stay in a motel. I’m not going to mention the name of this lovely place, but I’m happy to say I have the cock roachproblem under control. As for the bed bugs? That’s a horse of another color. The elevator quit working 2 months? Ago. I ran out of bed bug spray and bed bug powder. Those little bastards came back pissed as hell, with blood in their eyes and on a mission to make me pay for my sins.
Raleigh North Carolina? This town has an NHL hockey team. Just like San Jose. To be honest with you, I have yet to wander around to check the town out. I arrived here at the very end of 2020. With the virus out there, and me with no extra money to spend, I’ve been hanging kind of low anyway. Now that its April, and warmer, and more than two hours of daylight during the day, I’d love to be driving around and checking the area out. But, again, I’m on the 2nd floor (with no elevator). But don’t worry about me, once I finish this blog entry, I’ll be checking out and heading North.
OK, todays blog is about, “What I would do if I were running a $150,000,000 empire?”
Now 1st of all, I really don’t know very much about the interworking of the O’Dovero empire. I lived in California for 25 years and the last 14 years of them without much contact. So, my business plan will be more of a macro plan verses a detailed, day-to-day nuts-and-bolts business plan. Actually, two years ago, I tried getting a job working for the family. I gave my brothers and sister a resume and a business plan. It was a simple business plan. For those of you that are new to the story, after graduating from the very good university that I truly enjoyed attending, Northern Michigan University, I went to work for the family empire. I ran the real estate side of the empire. After a little less than 4 years of fun in the sun, and snow, I left Marquette for the land of flakes and quakes, or as some call it, California. That was 25+ years ago. A lot has changed in the O’Dovero empire since I left to live in the land of dreams and fairytales. The most notable is how ??? how do I say this nicely? How divided the family has become. From 2004, when stepsister Connie told everyone in the family, I wanted to murder Peter, to 2018, the family and I stopped talking. I thought they hated me. I had no idea the animosity ran deep throughout the entire family. The family’s $150,000,000 is now basically divided into three (relatively equal) parts. About third is owned and controlled by Peter, the father, and strongly supported by brother Pete and twin sister Jean. Around one third is owned by Lois, the mother, and operated by stepsister Connie, brothers Jim and Joe and supported by 3 other brothers. And the last third, the trust, owned by 9 children, West woods lands owned by 8 children and Midway Rentals owned by 6 children and this one third is operated by stepsister Connie and brothers Jim and Joe. Where am I? I’m one of the 9 with the trust. I might be part of my mother’s one third, but I would not go to Vegas and bet on it. So, I feel I’m an outcast. The black sheep. The forgotten child. I’m not even allowed to offer my opinion on any aspect of the family, or my own circumstances within it. That’s why I decided to give my 2 cents here on my blog. I figure, since no one in the family wants to talk to me like a valued member of the family, I’ll post a business plan of sorts right here on how to run a $150,000,000 empire AND how to fix a broken family. Plus, since no one in the family is interested in hiring me as a consultant, maybe, I’ll open up my own consulting company and sell my ideas to those that would appreciate them. I don’t want to be homeless for the rest of my life. I’d like to have a job and work for my worth. A wiseman once said, “You give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. You tell the O’Dovero family to wake up and do the right thing and I’ll have two houses to live in, a motorhome to travel in and the cash needed to make some of the dreams I’ve had for the past 40 years come true.”
When I left for California all those years ago, the family was talking to each other, going to each other’s camps on the weekends and talking to each other. Then, stepsister Connie started tearing the family apart by making me “the first” Enemy of the State. She convinced the rest of the family to turn their backs on me. Once it’s OK to hate one family member and disown them (me), a civil war between other family members isn’t so hard to get started. And that’s what happened! The family starting to divide and pick sides. I was told, the O’Dovero family had been in the courts suing each other for at least three years prior to my becoming homeless, so that’s nearly six years of suing each other, and counting. It’s still going on, and I haven’t even started, yet! When I start my Lawsuit, which I hope I don’t have too, but guessing I’ll be forced too, it will tie the O’Dovero’s $150,000,000 empire up in the courts for another 5 to 10 years. This is something I knew this from my college days, but I just googled it. It’s a fact that nearly 70% of family-owned empires do not, I repeat, do not survive the 2nd generation. I’m 59 years old. I and most of the 2nd generation O’Dovero family members should be retiring right now. Peter and Lois should be completely retired and wintering in a house in Texas, and enjoying life! They, and this family shouldn’t be fighting in court over $150,000,000 empire, and leaving me homeless for that matter. Shame on the O’Dovero family.
So, the first thing that needs to happen, and it may sound stupidly simple, because it is, the family needs to stop fighting, especially in the courts. Now, I don’t know why things are so broken in the family right now. But let’s no go backwards, let’s move forwards and find some peace and happiness. A great way to do that, and resolve my situation as well, would be for both Peter and Lois to sell $5,000,000 of their $50,000,000 estates. Then Peter gives $1,000,000 to four children and $1,000,000 to me, and Lois does the same from her estate. Now it doesn’t need to be all in cash. Some, or most of it can be in undeveloped land. The main focus point should be that both Peter and Lois are finally fulfilling the promise they’ve been telling us children all our lives. That they did not building the empire for themselves, but for us. Lois is 82 years old and Peter will be 86 years old in a few weeks. If we promise not to put them into nursing homes, they should want us kids to manage the empire, the entire empire, without them. The 2nd reason I feel that if Peter and Lois were to give each child a $1,000,000 is it would allow (require) each child to start making financial decisions on monies with several zeros rather than with just with the money from their paychecks. Trust me, your palms become sweaty when you negotiate with someone to build them a $1,000,000 building. Your throat goes dry when you’re sitting at a conference table signing your first 10-year lease agreement for a building you may or may not even have a set of blue prints for. Every government lease I signed didn’t come with blueprints. There’s no turning back once the ink is dry on the lease agreement. And while you’re signing your name, your mind is already thinking about the meeting you’re going to have the next day with a banker for the $800,000 loan you’ll be signing “your” name on as well, so you can build the building that you promised, in writing, with your signature. My last blog I wrote that I was involved in the negotiating with 5 leases of this sort, with loan agreements. Actually, it was 6. I forgot about the Secretary of State building (which was one of the lease agreements that didn’t come with blueprints). The building is now being leased to a chiropractor. How the family lost the lease for the Secretary of State’s building I’ll never understand. Those type of leases (government leases) were money in the bank when I was running things. In my business plan, I’d tear that building down, and not because the doctor called the police on me when I was sleeping in my van behind the building. I just have bigger and better plans for that property, but I’ll get to that later. Back to the $5,000,000. Finally, it’s the best way I can think of for each of the 8 children to audition for the position of leadership in the family empire. Most of the O’Dovero family has never made $1,000,000 business deals. And it’s not their fault. Peter and Lois should have given each of their 9 children $1,000,000 ten to fifteen years ago, so they could prove themselves. I’d be willing to bet the $150,000,000 would be quite a bit bigger than it is now and a hell of a lot more diversified. AND, AND, AND, I’d be willing to bet that us children would be much better friends. So, mom, dad, it’s not too late to “finally” “start” doing the right thing.
Now, for my business plan to work, a few things need to happen.
First, I believe breaking the empire up into pieces is the wrong thing to do.
I’d like to see all the commercial real estate under one management. Size and economy of scale matters. When I ran the commercial real estate, I created a partnership to do just that. It’s an easy thing to do. And the reason is simple, there is so much under-utilized commercial real estate throughout the family empire. The two places that come to mind right away are the Airport Property and the Midway Industrial Park. Let’s start with the Airport Property, that property is so under-utilized, I cannot believe it. It reminds me of when I started working for Peter back in 1991 when he had his construction company’s secretaries trying to run his commercial real estate. The crew he has now isn’t doing a very good job either. Back in 2019, my first summer living in my van in Marquette, I spent most of my time living in my van on the Airport Property, with my father’s permission, of course. No, we won’t go there today. We’re not looking backwards. First and foremost, I’d get a site plan drawn on the entire property. I’d have it include everything underground as well. Then I’d take a new sheet of paper and lay it out as it should have been done on day one. Over time I’d tear down half to three quarters of those buildings and start over the right way.
Since I lived there all summer in my van, I seen so much scrap metal laying all over the place. I’d offer anyone in the family 25% of the monies they receive for bringing the scrap to a recycling center, plus I’d pay them $20 an hour. Then after the Airport Property was cleaned and had a proper look and feel to it, I’d send them to Midway Industrial Park and then to any and all the other properties that look like scrap yards.
The next thing I’d do is to talk to the owners of the old terminal building at the airport. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but it would be nice to own that property again. I’d be upfront with them and let them know my plans to better utilize the entire property. I’m thinking the best deal would be a land swap. The family owns quite a bit of land all across the Upper Peninsula and Northern Wisconsin. Maybe a large chunk of land to hunt on, log or just enjoy as is? Maybe land that can be turned into a subdivision? The family owns a construction company. It would be a walk in the park for the family to design a subdivision, get all the zoning, permits, etc. And then build it. All it would take is a one-hour chat. Is it a starter, or a nonstarter, and then go from there?
Once I have a better idea of how I’d better utilize the Airport property, I’d move the construction company and Midway rental there. I was told the construction company owns a complete 2nd concrete batch plant somewhere west of Marquette. Do you know, the original Ready-Mix Company the family owns was bought and started with my stolen insurance money 40+ years ago? I want to say so much more, but I don’t want to lose my train of thought, so I’ll table it for now and come back to it later. So, I’d take the 2nd batch plant and set it up at the Airport. Then, moving the rest of the construction would be nearly seamless. It’s my understanding my brother Pete is now running the construction company. It would be a perfect opportunity for brother Pete to put his stamp on how he wants to run the company. It’s also my understanding that my nephew Rick (twin sister’s Jean’s son) went to college for construction management? I thought I heard that somewhere? I’d get him and brother Pete in the same room. And on another note, nephew Jimmy (brother Jim’s son) is in the construction field. Brother Pete is 60 years old. How long does he want to be running the construction company? It would be a perfect time to bring the younger generation into the fold. Brother Pete could be the president and the two nephews named vice presidents.
With the construction company, Midway Rental, Sid Harvey and whoever else is at the Midway Industrial park moved to the Airport, I’d clean the entire Midway Industrial Park property so it’s environmentally clean and ready to go. I’d also turn the huge bedrock hill in the center of the property into crushed road gravel. Do you know that back before the accident I had a building and a fenced in area where I raised rabbits and ducks on top of that huge rock? Ten years from now, with that property flat, cleaned up and better utilized (including the lower yard) I’d bet it would be a $30,000,000+ piece of property. I’ve been away for 25+ years, probably more?
Now, it takes money to make money. I’m fairly sure brother Jim has been bringing the trusts and Lois’s commercial real estate up to a higher standard much like it was when I ran things. I’d see the same is done for Peter’s properties as well. Then I’d do as I did when I ran those properties 30 years ago, I’d borrow as much as I could against every building. That’s how I was able to grow the real estate side of the family empire so fast. And, maintain the properties as A1, first class properties. I’d use that money to purchase as much commercial properties as I could for future development. AND, investments in other ventures the other family members want to take on (after they’ve proven themselves by signing their names on the bottom lines, with their own $1,000,000 first).
It’s getting late and I’m going to call it a night, but before I go, I’d like to add one more thought. When I was sleeping in my van on the airport runway, I noticed there was always a pretty good breeze blowing every day. I’m wondering if it’s possible to place 5 or 6 or more of those giant wind turbines on the property? On one of my nightly tours of the Airport Property before calling it a night, I ran into Peter looking at a new building he was having built (one of the 5 or so that I wouldn’t tear down). He told me the property was 5 miles long. Being an old airport, it made sense. If there is enough wind, I’m thinking 5 or 6 giant turbines could easily fit along the back edge of the property. What kind of tax breaks could you get if you had them on your property? I’m thinking I wouldn’t even need to do a thing other than contacting a company that is in the business of leasing people’s land and building wind turbines on them? A day or two of work and $500,000 of income a year from leasing the land? Land that has been cleaned up and all the scrap hauled away?
Like most of my blog entries and long-winded letters, I’m writing this over several days, or maybe even weeks. I found out yesterday that the elevator has finally been repaired, and it’s my birthday tomorrow. So, when you read my blog, please forgive me if my writing is a little unorganized, or scatter-brained? It is, or I should say, I am. Even though my business card says I’m a “Professional,” I’m not really a professional. But don’t tell anyone. I am pretending to be one.
Let’s, see? What’s today’s story? When I was lying in a hospital bed last summer for four months, my roommates liked watching the news. I never watch the news. The only news I’ll watch is the financial channel. But the nice guy I am, I watched the news with my roommates. I’m not sure if you know this, but there is a deadly virus out there killing people. I know there is a lot of people out there that do not believe it’s real. I don’t want to get into that argument today. But real or not, it gave me an idea. If I was running a $150,000,000 empire, I would start up a distribution center for the family to safely shop at. I’d take an empty building like 106 Coles drive and gut it out. I’d then fill the building up with shelving. Then I’d fill the shelves with things the family needs or uses on a regular bases. I’d start off with dry goods and can goods. Then keep adding to the stock of items the place offers until it’s a one stop shop for most everything the family needs and uses. By buying in bulk, the cost of everything drops by several factors. I’m thinking Paul and his wife, Jennifer, would be ideal candidates to run it. I think Paul could become a wonderful butcher. Jennifer could do the ordering and maintaining the inventory. I’m not talking just food. A family the size of the O’Dovero’s? how many computers and tablets does the family buy a year? How many do the business’ buy? How much toothpaste? Batteries? Office supplies? Soda? Water? Chips? Ice cream? Beer? Add a gas pump on a property that’s zoned for it? OK, I can already hear 40+ voices telling me it’s a stupid idea.
If it was just a distribution center to keep the family from having to shop at stores with the those that won’t wear a mask, wash their hands and get the vaccine shot, I wouldn’t argue. But I’ll give you three reasons why I think it is something to think about. One more thing before I go any further. A lot of my ideas I throw out with the bath water before I give them a second thought. So, I wouldn’t take it personal if this idea didn’t gain any traction. I’ll come up with a new idea tomorrow, and another new idea next week. I’ve got an idea on how to become the largest door manufacture in the world.
The main reason I like the idea of a distribution center is “money.” Or the distribution of “money” to be more exact. The trust owns the distribution center and all the goodies inside (and the gas station.) The trust issues each family member a trust card. No one in the family has to spend a penny on the basics needs to survive. You fill up boxes with your goods and supplies and top off your cars gas tank and swipe your trust card. You’re buying everything at cost and the trust simply charges your distribution account. The family members, that are not rich and famous, like me, do not have wait until Christmas to benefit from the trust. And, we can feel somewhat certain that the can of soup we are grabbing off the shelf hasn’t been touched by 700 people that are infected with God knows what before we bring it home to our families.
Reason number 2. Brother Jim gave me this idea. Create a rewards card and issue it every employee that works for the O’Dovero empire. When the distribution center is up and running with an inventory of 50 items? 100 items? Who knows? Do you know where Apple was started? How about Amazon or the dozens of other billion-dollar companies that you and everyone else knows the names of? In a garage! Once we get the distribution center up and running, we turn it into a CO-OP. with a CO-OP card, everyone with a CO-OP/rewards card can buy things at 10% over cost, or some type of major discount. And gasoline, a 10 cents discount by simply swiping your CO-OP/rewards card. Which brings up a new idea. Buy or build a gas station with a convenience store upfront and the distribution CO-OP in the rear. There is a gas station near Menards that might be a candidate. Guess how many stores Walmart started with?
It’s getting late and I cannot think of the third reason, but I want to add this while I’m thinking about it. I feel it should be the most important business attitude the family lives by. Buy local, shop local and develop partnerships with people and business in Marquette county. Do not be like a Walmart, Lowes or any of the other big box stores that runs the small local business out of business. I’d say, do just the opposite. Find a gas station that needs help, and give the current owners shares in the new venture and hopefully they stick around and manage it. Just the family alone buying all their gas, soda, chips, beer at a gas station could help a struggling gas station. Add to that, all the family-owned business filling up their vehicles there? Then add on just 20% of the CO-OP/rewards card holders?
Now that I think about it, start with the gas station and work backwards before adding the distribution center/CO-OP. It’s bedtime. Goodnight!
I’m back. It’s a few days after my birthday. I had a good birthday. Besides a few friends calling me to wish me a happy birthday, I received calls from sister-in-law Laurie, twin sister Jean and brother Jim. And brother John called me two days later. It’s been a very long time since any family has called me on my birthday, so I had a good birthday. Ops. Nephew Jimmy called me two years ago. It was a day after my birthday. I was just happy to receive the call, so I didn’t correct him.
What would I do if I were running a $150,000,000 empire? I’ve always wanted an apple orchard. I think a teacher read Johnny Appleseed to the class. It was one of those things that became stuck in my head. Why doesn’t everyone plant an apple tree in their yard? Me? I think big, I want to plant an apple orchard. Peter bought land all over the Upper Peninsula. It’s my understanding he’s been logging quite a bit of it. I doubt if many or any of the family has ever seen any of it. I’d use the family money to buy each family a top-of-the-line side-by-side four-wheeler. Then over time, plan family outing to view the properties. Show the family what we own. But also create a log of what the property has on it. Has it been logged? Does it have hard wood? Soft wood? Water? Flat or with hills? When my parents give us the $1,000,000 each, some of us might want land. Anyone that wants land should have first choice. Then after that, I’m a big believer in planting trees. I’d contact a forester(s) and find out what type of trees we should plant. Could you imagine us planting 1,000 acres or more of apple trees? Lower Michigan is big on apple trees. Find out what type of apple trees and cherry trees are the big money makers down state? I’m not a forester, and I don’t play one on TV, but if I had to guess, softwood would be the best choice for most of the land that’s been logged. I believe you can harvest softwood in 20 years and hardwood in 40? But don’t quote me on that. Again, talk to those in the forestry business and learn as much as you can about it. If nothing else, it will help better understand the value of land for when you’re buying and selling it.
I was just thinking. Why just trees? Why not acres upon acres of blueberries, raspberries, strawberries and so on? I’d love to see it for personal use, but could you make a business from it? You could sell the fresh fruit at the distribution center.
Another thing I’d like to do with 1,000+ acres of land is to create a hunting preserve. I’d fence in 1,000+ acres of land and stock it with game animals. I’d talk to the DNR and others in the know and find out what kind of game animals are compatible with each other. Maybe stock it with partridge and wild turkeys as well. Hopefully the family owns a large track of suitable land with a lake on it. I’d put up a windmill or solar panels to power electric water pumps to create marsh land for waterfowl. I’d build a $1,000,000+ lodge on it. I’d go first class on everything. Then I’d sell memberships. I’d put a limit of 25 members and sell them for $10,000 each. The numbers may vary, but the main purpose of the lodge is to be exclusive. I’d hire my ex-brother-in-law, Mark, to run the kitchen. A member could shoot an elk, buffalo or some exotic game on a special hunt and then be served the meat a few days later in a modern-day feast that would rival those of antiquity. An event that could happen 25 times a year. Stock the lodge with a wine and liquor cabinet that the average person would have to work six months or longer to afford. Have a gun range, skeet shooting and fishing. Again, the purpose is to be excusive. Why? Money makes money. 25 of the richest people from the area members of an exclusive club discussing business ideas?
Oh, I’d also plant a 40+ acre orchard of every tree, plant and bush that would bear some type fruit or nut or just cool to see. Even if I don’t get the lodge built, I’m going to do it, somewhere, someplace, somehow. Why? Because it’s my dream to do it!
OK, it’s new day, so that must mean another business idea for the O’Dovero empire. Have you ever gone charter fishing or sailing? Why not look into the possibility of one or both of them? Let’s start with charter fishing. I’ve been in California for a long time, so I have no idea what’s available in the Marquette area. But in California, I took my brother Paul charter fishing when he lived with me for five years. We didn’t catch anything that day, but it was a good time. Then when I drove a motorhome to Alaska, I went charter fishing up there. That time a had good luck fishing. I was the first one on the boat to catch my limit. Charter fishing is a wonderful way of spending the day out on the water. Plus, you get to eat what you catch. And bring a six-pack. It actually helps you avoid becoming seasick. How to make charter fishing work? I’d look for a local that’s ran a charter boat in the past. Offer him/her 25% of the company and then buy a boat and outfit it with all the latest gear on the market. To get the word out there that you have a charter boat, everyone in the family takes their friends fishing and post it all over the internet. Remember the rewards card? Once a month, or so, give one, or some of the employees a free day fishing. And of course, advertise on the TV, radio and social media. And again, it’s a great place to talk business with clients.
On the sailing side of things, I had a buddy (Kip) in San Jose that loved to sail. His brother (Ed) owns a sailboat, so Kip spent a lot of time on the water. Ed sailboat is moored at the South Beach Yacht Club (SBYC). It’s a private club, which I’m guessing most yacht clubs are, so don’t think you can crash it. I’ve crashed more exclusive clubs than the SBYC before, so I wasn’t worried if I couldn’t get in. As luck would have it, I didn’t have to crash it. Ed invited me as a guest. The members of the club are the nicest people in the world. I’d love to have a sailboat moored there. But again, as luck would have it, I didn’t need a million-dollar sailboat to be allowed to regularly visit the club. All I had to do was to join an organization called, the Bay Area Association of Disabled Sailors (BAADS). Now that was fun! One summer (2013) when probably the most prestigious yacht race in the world was going on in the San Francisco Bay, the Americas Cup, I was sailing on a sailboat on the San Francisco Bay for 3 of the 9 races. That was the year when the Oracle Team USA was down 1 win to New Zealand’s 8 wins. Needing to win 8 races in a row, Oracle Team USA, some-how pulled it off, and I was there on a sailboat to watch it happen for 3 of the races. Fast forward to today, if I was running a $150,000,000 empire, I’d look into buying a sailboat and starting a charter sailing business. It would have to be big enough to be able to handle the Great Lakes for 5 to 6 months out of the year and then winter, charter down in the Caribbean. Of course, this boat and the fishing boat would have to be wheelchair friendly. Rather than sue each other like the family has been doing for the past five years, I’d look for ways to bring the family back together and make money at the same time.
One thing I enjoyed doing, along with others in the family and quite a few of the good people living in the beautiful, unspoiled wilderness we call, the UP (Upper Peninsula) is 4-wheeling. Two of my brothers, Pete and John took their FJ40 Toyota’s and made them into beautiful half-cab rugged 4-wheelers with flip front ends like you see on a diesel truck. The hood, fenders and grill are all attached together and hinged at the bottom of the grill. After unleashing 2 tiedown straps, the entire front body flips forward. That gives you access to the entire motor and front suspension. I’d like to see either or both of my brothers running a company that builds those 4-wheel drive Toyotas. Brother Pete’s Toyota had a 327 V-8 Chevy motor in his. I’d like to see them use Chevrolet’s LS crate motors. The Toyotas come with leaf springs, but I’d like to see them take them off and use some type of trailing arm or 4-link suspension with coilover adjustable shocks. There are probably a dozen companies that make those type of suspension kits for Jeeps. I can picture building one of these 4-wheelers and letting a 16-year-old nephew racing it at both the Crandon and Bark River Off Road Races. After he finishes 4th in class, his girlfriend hoses the mud off the truck, adjusts the shocks to street use and drives my nephew home. If my 16-year-old nephew doesn’t have a girlfriend, then maybe a niece who comes in 2nd in the race has her boyfriend wash the truck off, adjust the shocks and drives her home. Of course, the truck would have a built-in winch, leather interior, A/C, top of the line sound systems and all the bells and whistles you’d expect on a $60,000+ 4-wheel-drive truck. Now that I think about it, I’m guessing there must be a fleet of surplus H1 4-wheel-drive trucks from the Army. Buy them cheap, put a leather interior with all the bells and whistles and sell them with the Toyotas. Add Jeeps to it and have the largest purpose built 4-wheeldrive dealership. The most important thing would be to build top of the line quality trucks that preform as well as they look. Build them to last, build them to look great, build them to win races, and then sell them to rich people at the Mecum’s Auction and Hollywood movie stars that never take them off the blacktop. Maybe hire a film crew and turn it into one of those shows you see on the Motor Trend channel on Sunday mornings.
Have you heard of that reality TV show called, “Keeping Up with the Kardashians?” There’s one way to have all my hairbrained ideas be successful is to create a show of our own called, “Hanging Out with the O’Dovero’s.” The $150,000,000 empire would be a $300,000,000 to $500,000,000 in 5 years if that were to happen.
No! That’s not my dream, but it’s a big family. Maybe it’s someone else’s?
OK. It’s another day. Time for another hairbrained idea.
Nothing is popping into my head. I better finish my morning can of Mt. Dew and a watered-down café Latte drink from my Keurig K-cup machine.
OK. When all else fails. How about an idea that might just be realistic? Now, before I get started, I’d really should do some research on parking requirements, and I’m just not sure while sitting in a fleabag motel in Raleigh North Carolina, so I’m going to throw a few ideas out there and see what sticks to the wall. Being homeless for close to 3 years now, I think the O’Dovero family should own a hotel. And a restaurant. If we go with a franchise type of restaurant, like an Outback or a Texas Roadhouse, then it would need to be a standalone. So, I’d build it on O’Dovero drive property along the highway. That way you would get customers that are driving by and just hungry stopping to eat. Plus, having a national chain restaurant you’d benefit from national advertising. If I were to go with a top-of-the-line type steak restaurant, which I’d like to consider, then I’d do a study on combing the restaurant and hotel together. I’d do a study on putting the restaurant on either the ground floor or the top floor. I think the ground floor might work best, if you wanted to utilize the top floor for a pool, sauna and banquet hall. On the top floor, you could enclose the floor with glass walls and a glass roof. To turn the pool into a banquet hall, have a motorized floor cover the pool. Maybe see if you can have part of the glass roof retractable as well? Could you imagine having your daughter’s wedding reception at the prestigious Rooftop Banquet Hall? Actually, I wouldn’t name it. I’d have a contest within the family to name new businesses, properties, partnerships, etc. There’s what? 40 members of the O’Dovero family? I don’t want to lose my train of thought, so let’s call it 40. I’d have a contest for every member of the family, young and old alike, to submit a name for each new venture. The winner receives a $1,000. As for the restaurant, I’d offer the best steaks available. I think Kobe steaks are at or near the top. Remember the rewards card? Everyone with a rewards card gets 20% off their meals. In between the restaurant and the top floor, I’d have two floors with hotel rooms. Since I’ve been living in flea bag hotels lately, I’d set them up with business clients in mind. I’d layout the rooms (suites) more like 2-bedroom apartments, with doors for each bedroom. I’d have each bedroom with their own bathrooms. Actually, the master suite with a private bathroom and a common bathroom for the suite. The suite should have a kitchen that is stocked with pots, pans, dishes, silverware and all the basics, like towels, dish soap, etc. Now, if we have the distribution center, allow the client to order items and deliver them, at a good profit. Or make a deal with Econo foods for the same type of service. The suite should also include one of those all-in-one color laser office machines along with high-speed internet. Of course, the price will be quite a bit higher than every other hotel room in town, but it should be. It would be 1st class that would be 2nd to none.
OK I’m back from a dinner break. This is an idea that I’d like to do with my personal money the family gives me when they come to their senses and realize they want me as an ally rather than an enemy. The family crossed the Rubicon and I’m still fuckin homeless. Shit. I didn’t want to go there. I’m going to get a can of Mt. Dew. I shouldn’t have one this time of night, but now I’m fucking pissed. Come September, it will be my 3rd full year of being homeless. September 15th will be the 4 year of being left homeless by a FAMILY that stole my insurance money and now has a $150,000,000 empire. There isn’t a single member of the cold-hearted O’Dovero family that’s innocent. If you’re a spouse or a grandchild, you are just as guilty of turning your back on me and leaving me homeless to die as my mother, father, brothers, twin sister and stepsister.
How much fucking money do you fucking assholes need before you can start caring about me?
The entire O’Dovero family is going to hate me when I arrive in Marquette still homeless!!!
It’s been an hour and can’t get this anger to go away. I’m going try by telling you what I would do if I had the money. I’d buy a piece of property that will go unnamed and build three houses next to each other to be used as Bed and Breakfasts. I’d build them as 3 story buildings with basements. I’d build them in the turn of the century Victorian style. Of course, they would be barrier-free. I’d even make the elevator look like an afterthought by making it look like a cast iron cage. Each bedroom would have a theme, a gas fireplace and bathroom. Of course, a huge cast iron bathtub. I’d have real hardwood floors, real woodwork and real wood trim. I’d try to use wood logged off of family-owned land. The house I grew up in was built in 1880 and had stained glass windows and real working wooden shutters. I’d love to copy that look. Truthfully, I’d love to own that house.
I’m trying, but I cannot get my mind to concentrate, so I’m calling it a night.
I’m sorry about my language last night. My personally has changed since I’ve been homeless.
It’s a new day and I’m starting to wonder if I’m wasting my time writing this business plan? As far as I know, no one in the family has ever written a business plan. Can you believe that? $150,000,000 empire and no one has a plan on what to do with it? They have no problem hiring Lawyers and suing each other. At the last trust meeting that I’m aware of, which was a long time ago, stepsister Connie told me with her teeth showing, claws out and blood in her eyes that if I said another word about her in this blog I’d be hearing from her Lawyer. The sad part of it is? The entire family is following her lead down the rabbit hole of disaster. She has never ran a single business in her life that I’m aware of. I’ve never been informed at any of the “literally” handful of meetings in the past 27 years that I’ve been invited to that she has brought any new business to the trust. A trust that she’s been a trustee since day one (30 years). So, has she ever negotiated a 10-year lease, built $1,000,000 building or negotiated $800,000 bank loan for that 10-year lease and $1,000,000 building? Stepsister Connie, I’ll be in Marquette in a few weeks. I can meet your Lawyer at his/her office so they can serve me the papers? Now if you don’t follow through on your promise/threat, I want the rest of the family to finally ask themselves? Is stepsister Connie all talk and no action? What financial value has stepsister Connie EVER BROUGHT TO THE O’DOVERO FAMILY? Also, you need to ask yourselves? Once mom’s gone, who’s going to stop stepsister Connie from dividing the spoils of war in her favor? Brother’s Jim and Joe? Can you honestly say that you trust her? Can you disagree with her and not worry about suffering her wrath?
I just thought of something? Do you think my stepsister Connie is bipolar?
Now, I’m not like some that will go off half-cocked without offering a solution.
I don’t think you’ll be shocked when I say I feel stepsister Connie should retire from running the trust and Lois’ empire? She’s 65 years old.+/- Now, unlike her and her feelings toward me, I don’t think she should be disowned. I would hope she’d do the right thing for the family and stepdown peacefully. Then my mom should hire her as her personal consultant at a salary of $100,000 per year.
Another family member that showed his teeth, his claws came out and eyes turned blood red was brother Pete. What he said, should be in the trust’s minutes, but stepsister Connie was taking the minutes, so I seriously doubt if his comments towards me made the minutes. I don’t know why brother Pete hates me? It wasn’t always like that. In 1995, I was packing up so I could move to California. Brother Pete offered to store most of my belonging in his basement. Among my collections of framed mirrors, signs, U.S. currency, keepsakes like my high school class ring and other keepsakes that I wanted to store rather than haul around the country with me was half a dozen boxes of paperwork. I don’t know what happened to most of my stuff, but several years ago, brother Pete called me and told me he burned all the boxes containing my paperwork. I didn’t get a warning prior to, just a call after the fact that he did it. At that last trust meeting, brother Pete with his eyes blood red, white fangs exposed and claws ready to tear the flesh from my bones, stated in front of the rest of the brothers, twin sister and stepsister that when he burned all my paperwork without my permission, he burnt a “stack” of uncashed checks. I asked him who wrote and gave me this “stack” of uncashed checks? Brother Pete said he didn’t remember, but wished he wouldn’t have burnt them, so he could show the family the “stack” of uncashed checks.
I’m going to flat out tell you that I never gave brother Pete a box of paperwork containing a single uncashed check. So, there being a “stack” of uncashed checks written to me never happened.
In those boxes of paperwork that brother Pete offered to store in his basement for me that he lit on fire and completely burnt so there was nothing but ashes left did contain several “stacks” of checks that I wrote to various places to pay my bills and were stamped canceled by the banks and returned to me to save for my records.
Brother Pete, do you hate me that much that you would make a whopper of a lie claiming to burn a ”stack” of uncashed checks?
Otherwise, you truly believe that you actually burnt a “stack” of uncashed checks of mine. Since there never was a “stack” of uncashed checks, is this really what you want to be doing? Take on the stress of trying to take over dad’s shoes and run his $50,000,000 empire? You are going to have to read and understand contracts and agreements that are 50 pages, 100 pages long. Something a lot more complex than a stack of checks. Running a $50,000,000 empire is going to attract a lot of bad people that are going to try steal from you by making shady business deals and writing even shadier business contracts where they have you think you’re making millions, but, because the bad people can use crooked deceitful wording in these contracts, you end up losing millions? It’s my understanding it’s already happened to dad lately. It’s my understanding someone conned dad out of a gravel pit for pennies on the dollar. I heard dad was screwed over on a different land deal as well.
Do you know what the joke on Wallstreet is?
The fastest way to create a $1,000,000 empire is to start with a $10,000,000 empire.
Be very careful when signing your name on legal documents. If people are willing to screw over dad, they’re not going to think twice when it comes to screwing you over.
Wouldn’t you be happier if mom and dad each sold $5,000,000 of their estates and you received $1,000,000 in cash to do whatever you wanted with?
I wouldn’t have a problem if you replaced stepsister Connie as a trustee and I replaced brother Joe. But before that happens, both you and dad would have to drop all your Lawsuits against anyone and everyone in the family. AND, dad would have to comply with all the previous court rulings.
Next, mom and dad should retire and each sign power of attorneys.
Then combine the entire $150,000,000 empire under one management team. The first task the management team should do is to create a mission statement.
A simple example would be something like:
The primary mission of the TEAM is to maintain a portfolio of assets and combined them to work together, grows at a reasonable rate while providing jobs and a steady stream of income to each of the 9 families.
It may sound simple, but how do you know if you’re achieving your goals if you don’t know what they are?
But I’m getting a head of myself. Right now, the O’Dovero empire is being ripped apart because the “old guard” is in the middle of a civil war. The old guard consists of Peter, Lois, brother Pete and stepsister Connie. The only thing that all 4 of them agree on is that I should be disowned and left homeless to die.
Do you think it’s time for all 4 of them retire?
Before I call it a night, I want to give all 6 brothers, twin sister Jean, stepsister Connie and all their families some friendly advice. It’s now a $150,000,000, maybe it’s dropped to a $140,000,000 empire and the family isn’t as friendly to each other as it once was. Mom and dad have allowed suing each other and turning our backs on each other possible. Whereas, in most families it’s taboo. So, each and every one of the 9 families should have its own personal Lawyer. If someone or the family needs a specialty Law Firm to fight a particular cause like a patent dispute, hire a Law Firm that specializes in patent disputes, otherwise the 9 families should have personal Lawyers (some call them pocket Lawyers) to handle their everyday legal needs like; deeds, contracts, agreements, etc. I don’t have one, and I’m not planning on getting one, or a team of Lawyers, unless I’m still homeless when I arrive in Marquette in June. If the family wants to start working with me to make up for the sins of the past, I won’t need one. I know how to read, write and understand deeds, contracts, agreements and most other financial statements and documents. I know the difference between a warranty deed and a quick claim deed without batting an eye. I doubt if there’s anyone in the O’Dovero family, except maybe Paul’s wife that truly knows the difference between the two and when it would be appropriate to use one or the other.
In the next few years, all the members of this family will be bombarded with legal documents to read and sign. I’m the only member of this family that has read every page of every document and understood every document I was asked to sign. No one else, not even brother Jim can say that.
Please, don’t blindly trust anyone when it comes to signing documents. Please have your own Lawyer review them, so he/she can look after you and your family’s best interests. It will probably cost you $500 per year, maybe less to have your own Lawyer on retainer to protect you.
Do you think my father disowned me? If you think the answer is yes, when do you think it happened? Last month? Last year? 15 years ago? 25 years ago? Or 42 years ago when he seen me paralyzed laying on the hospital bed for the first time?
Do you think my mother disowned me? If you think the answer is yes, when do you think it happened? Last month? Last year? 15 years ago? 25 years ago? Or 42 years ago when she seen me paralyzed laying on the hospital bed for the first time?
Do you think my brothers, twin sister, stepsister and their families disowned me? If you think the answer is yes, when do you think it happened? Last month? Last year? 15 years ago? 25 years ago? Or 42 years ago when they see me paralyzed laying on the hospital bed for the first time?
When I was 16 years old, I bought a $1,000,000 insurance policy on my new 1979 Ford pickup. My monthly insurance payments were more than the monthly bank payments on my brand-new truck. Just days after I came home from the spinal cord hospital after the accident that was inches away from killing me and left me paralyzed from the chest down, there was a $700,000 tax-free check waiting for me. My father made me pay him and my mother $100,000 each, then stole the rest. My father invested the money in the construction company and real estate for himself, my mother and the family. My mother, brothers, twin sister and stepsister knew what he did and said nothing. It’s now 40+ years later and the O’Dovero family empire is now worth $150,000,000, or maybe now down to a $140,000,000. Add to that, I’m homeless (for nearly 3 full years). And the sad part of it is, anyone and everyone in the O’Dovero family that wants a job can have a job in the O’Dovero empire except me. Since I’ve been homeless, I’ve asked my mother, my father, my brothers and my stepsister for a job and they won’t hire me. Why?
Do you think the O’Dovero family is discriminating against me financially because I have a physical disability? Do you think the O’Dovero family won’t hire me because I have a physical disability? If you think the answer is yes, when do you think it started? Last month? Last year? 15 years ago? 25 years ago? Or 42 years ago when they see me laying in the hospital bed paralyzed?
If I’m still homeless when I arrive in Marquette in June, the telephones in a few Law offices will start ringing. I doubt if any member in the O’Dovero family is going to like me. The entire O’Dovero family will feel like I’m crossing the Rubicon river.
I took a few days off. I never used to get angry or feel hatred. But I’m still homeless. It will be 3 full years of being homeless soon. When I was 17 years old, I was given a check from my insurance company for $700,000 so I could build the house of my dreams. I don’t feel I should have to settle for anything less. Actually, $700,000 in 1980 could have built me two houses of my dreams, and also invested so I would still have a decent monthly income. Being homeless has taken a toll on me. In the past, I’d never let these terrible feelings get started. Now, I can’t stop it once it gets started, and sometimes it takes days for me to stop those horrible feelings.
I am not going to live in the basement of my mother’s rental house! And, I don’t feel I should have to live in an apartment. I did that for 25 years while living in California.
I’m back. It was my dad’s birthday two days ago. The prior two years I called him in his birthday. 25+ years ago I was so hurt by his betrayal, I moved away from Marquette and stopped talking to him. But after 14 years of the family not talking to me …. . So, when Joe and Jim called me up, I decided to give everyone in the family a chance, even my father. I would have called my father on his birthday this year, but I wasn’t feeling well. I wasn’t sleeping. I can’t do four to six hours of sleep anymore with anemic blood, so I’ve been trying to sleep for eight hours a night. For several days I wasn’t getting enough sleep, so I took a break from everything and slept. It wasn’t personal that I didn’t call. I just needed sleep so the stress and the anger would go away.
Oh crap! It’s 11 pm. My plan is to leave here (North Carolina) on Tuesday morning, so today I did laundry and a Walmart run. You wouldn’t believe the luck I have. Mice, yes mice made a nest in the mattress in my van. This mattress has mold on it because the van roof leaks, so I was planning on getting a new mattress anyway. I had a busy day. I just didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve had so much sleep the past few days I’m just not tired. I’m crawling into bed anyway. I want to post this business plan before Tuesday, so I’ll be back at it tomorrow or Saturday. Goodnight.
I left Raleigh North Carolina a week ago. I’m now in Fond du Lac Wisconsin. I was hoping to post this part of the business plan before leaving Raleigh. Oh well. The drive was pleasant. I averaged only 250 miles a day, on purpose. My luck hasn’t been much better. The van’s roof leaks, but only when it rains, and it’s been raining. The good news is the elevator at the motel was working when I checked out. The bad news is the electric motor on the van door stopped working. It doesn’t like getting wet then an electrical current running through it. I had the maintenance man at the motel disconnect the drive chain so I could get inside the van to load it and leave. With the drive chain disconnected, the sliding door on the van will open, but it doesn’t stay closed. To keep the door closed while I drove, and slept in the van, I used three bungee cords. They worked, but the dome light was on as much as it was off. But I made it.
I think I’m going to post this now and then work on my Business Plan Part Two. I need to give you something to read, then talk about with your family, your friends, your priest, your dealer! Just kidding. Wait! The dealer is, OK?
The dealer, for a nickel Lord
He’ll sell you lots of sweet dreams
Ah, but the pusher’ll ruin your body
Lord he’ll leave… he’ll leave your mind to scream
God damn ahh God damn the pusher.
God damn, God damn the pusher.
It looks like I have a new song stuck in my head. The song is called, The Pusher. Sung by the band, Steppenwolf and written by Hoyt Axton. Mr. Axton also wrote the happy-go-lucky song, Joy to the World, the No-No Song and Never Been to Spain.
Mr. Axton also played the father of the boy (Billy) in the movie Gremlins. I can still picture the snow in the beginning of that movie. The snow was so perfect.
I might just have to listen to Steppenwolf’s greatest hits while I take care of some business.
I hope it doesn’t take me a month to write “Business Plan for a Family With a $150,000,000/$140,000,000 Empire. I’m going to start calling it a $140,000,000 empire.
This is just a guess, but I’m thinking my father’s third of the empire isn’t doing so well. That’s why he’s suing the rest of the family for money. When I was staying in the flea bag motel in Raleigh, I hooked up a HD antenna and HD TV tuner to my computer. That way I could watch HD TV in my motel room. If you have a HD TV with a HD antenna, you too can watch free TV like you did when you were a kid. One of the TV shows I’d record, because it came on at 2am was called Mannix. One day, while watching the show, a TV commercial came on about looking up your ancestry. For the fun of it, I looked up the ancestry of the name, Mannix. It’s an Irish and Gaelic name. Then I decided to look up the Italian spelling of the O’Dovero name. I believe it’s spelt “Oddovero.” I believe my great grandfather Peter O’Dovero dropped the “d” and replaced it with the apostrophe. I asked my grandmother and other elders of the family, but no one seemed to know why he did it. To my surprise, I didn’t find much at all on the Italian version. So, I decided to look up the “O’Dovero” name. Much to my surprise, there was a link to the courts system where (father) Peter E. O’Dovero, (brother) Peter J. O’Dovero and (twin sister) Jean Marie Temple were suing me, the rest of my brothers and stepsister. They were trying to gain control of a life insurance policy I had taken out on Peter E. O’Dovero on behalf of all nine of us children, so we could pay his estate taxes when the time comes, or a later policy the family took out on him I’d guess for the same reason. I didn’t click on the link because I didn’t want to stir up the anger feelings within me. So, I don’t know if it was the life insurance I took out on dad for the family or a later policy. I do know that the policy I, on behalf of the 9 children had 100% of Peter’s consent and us 9 children made the payments. Rather than anger, I felt sad for the three of them. I don’t know what’s going on with Peter “mentally,” but he’s 85 years old and from my chats with him, he’s not the same Peter as I knew him from years ago. I don’t know, but I’m wondering if he has ever been tested for dementia? Brother Pete and twin sister Jean, as far as I know, have never been trained in the art of reading and understanding legal contracts. I blame Peter and Lois for that. All nine children should have been transitioned into leadership roles within the family empire sometime in the past 15 years, if not earlier. To this day, they won’t give up control. I’ve never seen any of the family books since I ran the real estate side of the family empire, but I’ve heard rumors that Peter isn’t making the best decisions. From my recent talks with him, he’s nowhere near the businessman he used to be. I don’t know, but is it possible that Peter is losing it? Then the question is, are brother Pete and twin sister Jean truly capable of running a $50,000,000, now possible a $40,000,000 empire? I’d be scared of losing millions if I were suddenly tossed into the ring and having to sign contracts that I didn’t fully understand. When I took over the real estate side of the empire, I was fortunate to have studied business, accounting, finance and English classes. I know I’m not the best writer, but I do have some grasp of the English language. I couldn’t imagine brother Pete and twin sister Jean reading and truly understanding multi-million-dollar 50-page contracts. It’s not easy. I read them 2 to 3 times so I feel comfortable I understand them. Are they afraid of failure already that they feel the need to sue for more money? Before they even take control? Pete, Jean! For God’s sake. Ask for help from us in the family! Don’t let a $50,000,000 empire turn into a $10,000,000 empire! Or a $5,000,000 empire! OR LESS! What are your plans when the time comes and you get a bill for $20,000,000 for estate taxes? Are either of the two of you talking to banks right now? Could you borrow $5,000,000 or more against dad’s assets right now if you needed too? Do either of the two of you even know what dad owns? Do you know where the titles and the deeds are? Have you read them? Do you know what properties dad has bank loans against? Do you know where that paperwork is? Are those bank loans due in full at the time of his death? Do you know how much he owes? Have you read them? Do you know what properties he owns free and clear? Do you have appraisals on any of those assets? Again, have you talked to the banks about borrowing money against them if you have too? Do you know what contracts dad currently has obligations to? Do you know where they are? Have you read them? Has dad been filing his income taxes? Has he been making his quarterly tax payments? Does he owe back taxes? Does dad even have a will? Have you read it? Do you understand it? What is the very first thing “legally” that you need to do when dad dies? Have you made a list of dad’s business contacts? Do you know who they are? Do you know who you have to, or should, contact (businesswise) 1st, 2nd, 3rd and so on the day or soon after he dies? Do you know where all of dad’s money “bank accounts” are? Do you know how much money is in them right now? Do you know the combination to his safe? (The combination is one thing I do know) these are just a few of the questions that would keep me awake at night in I was in his will. But dad told me a couple of times in the past two years that I’m not in his will.
I can tell you, two people that will become very-very rich when dad dies, and their names are not bother Pete and twin sister Jean.
Another week has past and I have so much more of a business plan I want to write about. But I NEED to post this now and work, so I’ll work on the rest later. I’d also like to proof read before posting it, but then it will be another week, so this is what you get. A rough draft.
Now, my main purpose of this portion of my business plan is not to tell you what I’d do if I were running things as much is it’s to tell the 35+/- members of the O’Dovero family that ARE NOT INVOLVED in the leadership of the empire. Quit the manual labor. Use your brain and stop using your back. Would I fight to have all the ideas I wrote about here in this business plan implemented? Probably not! I think they’re all possible, but some maybe a little extreme. But that was my intent. The O’Dovero family has a lot of smart people. If, not if, but when you have a business idea, don’t be afraid to bring it up. Or better yet, use your $1,000,000 and get a business perfected. Then sell it to the trust for a nice profit. The only dumb idea is the one you let someone else have, enjoy and get rich from.
Good evening. It’s been challenging these last few years. I wouldn’t wish homelessness on anyone. Not even on people I don’t admire. I do have good news. I cannot go through life hating people. These last 2 ½ years, plus have been the worst years of my life. I’ve never felt so alone as I do now. It’s even more horrible than the 14 years I lived through when my family didn’t talk to me. I don’t want to hate people. I don’t want to hate anything. It’s not how I want to spend the last years of my life. When I leave this world, which ever place I end up, I want to be known for being positive fun to be around. Not for hating people.
Before I go any further, I don’t feel or believe it’s me alone against the world. When you’re done reading this, I think you’ll understand what I mean when I say, I feel alone.
That brings up today’s story – Do you believe in God?
Don’t get your panties in a bind. I’m not going to jam religion down your throat. I hate (whoops! Didn’t mean to use the word “hate”) dislike when some try to jam their beliefs on me. Besides, there was a period of time when I stopped believing in a God. I remember the day like it was yesterday. I’ll get to that later. I promise!
First, let’s go back 50+ years to when life was much simpler – for me anyway. I feel like I told you this story before. If I did, forgive me. I’m getting old and senile. Ops. I better not say that too loud. There are some in the O’Dovero family, a few too many that think I should be in a nursing home. I think it’s more about money maybe all about money than what’s best for me. I’ll get to that later as well, I promise!
5o+ years ago, my religious beliefs were probably like most Americans. Maybe like most of the people of this earth. I believed in a God. Like many in the western hemisphere, and especially the middle east, the one and only God. It blows my mind how many people have died fighting each other over the same God. But I said I wouldn’t go there, so that’s as far as I go. As for my beliefs, I thought God was – well God! And, the 10 commandments were the Law! Not just the Law of the land, but the Law of eternal damnation. When I was a child and I’d hear my dad use the Lord’s name in vain, I feared he wasn’t going to go to heaven. It never made sense to me why my mother never tried to stop him. I remember asking her once and her answer didn’t make any sense to me. She made it sound like some-how it was OK. I just prayed as a child that God would let him into heaven.
Do you believe or feel you’re on this earth for a purpose? I used to believe that. One day it was reinforced when I was visiting my aunt and uncle, Joyce and Kenney. Ken recently died from the coronavirus. It’s real and it kills people, but I’m not going to bang the drums on that subject today. Wait! I have to say this! Every person that died and are still going to die from the coronavirus are people. THEIR LIVES MATTER! Two years ago, my uncle Kenny invited me to visit him and Joyce while on my travels. I drove within an hour of their house but didn’t stop and visit them. Now I have to hope I make it into heaven to tell him I’m sorry for not stopping to say hi when I was so close. Back to Abbotsford Wisconsin a million years ago, several of us kids were playing outside in the yard on a beautiful sunny day. Our parents were inside drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. I thought it was a little strange when we were rounded up and told to go inside, when only an hour or so earlier we were told just the opposite and told to go outside and play. When I finally made it inside, most were sitting in chairs in a circle of sorts getting ready to do some group thing. Being late and not knowing what was going on, I took a chair as far from the teacher, aunt Joyce as I could and sat down. I figured it would give me a little time to figure out what was going on so I wouldn’t make a fool of myself right away. The first thing they did was to hand out bible study books. But as luck would have, they were one book short. Aunt Joyce looked around, then she walked up to me and took my book and gave it to a different child. I felt hurt and nearly started to cry. Why me? I believe in God! Just because I don’t force me beliefs on everyone else doesn’t mean I’m not a believer.
Then aunt Joyce walked back into the room carrying a big, thick black book, which I recognized right away and handed it to me. I never felt so special in my life. God had a plan for me! And aunt Joyce just verified it!
But like all of God’s plans, they’re never easy. Trying to following the teachings of the bible study books, which were 50 to 100 pages long? With the bible, which was quite a few pages more, was a task for a little 7 to 10-year-old believer. By the time the group started talking about the 10 commandments, I was lost. Aunt Joyce would slow down every once in a while, to allow me to find my place, but when the 10 commandments came up and I was completely lost, she walked over to help me. It took aunt Joyce a minute or two to find the story of the 10 commandments in the bible. I was looking in the Book of Numbers for the 10 commandments. When she handed me back the bible, she smiled and pointed to the name of the book the story of the 10 commandments is found in.
How long do you think it would take you to find the 10 commandments in the bible?
Now, I’m just a long-haired hippy that’s homeless, so I think it’s safe to say, I don’t have all the answers. Lately, I don’t feel I have any answers. I’m not even sure what the questions are anymore. But I will say this, without stuttering, there are 10 Laws or rules that I followed without question and they were the 10 commandments. I had dropped down to 9 commandments for a while, but I’m back to 10 again.
What commandment did I stop following? It wasn’t, thou shall not covet your neighbor’s wife. If you are married, don’t hit on me. Well, you can hit on me, just don’t expect me to act on it. I did once, and I still feel bad about it. It wasn’t, thou shall not steal. When I was 17, I had $700,000 stolen from me. Then 10 years ago my apartment was broken into and all my valuables were stolen. The most valuable possession stolen was my rare gold and silver coin collection. I had bought the coins when silver was in the $4 range and gold was between $375 and $400 an ounce. What was my investment in the collection you ask? I’m glad you asked. No, I haven’t been drinking. I haven’t been feeling well lately and today’s been a good day. Plus, I’ve killed 5 cockroaches today, so far. That’s an all-time new high. I average one cockroach per day. On three occasions, I’ve killed as many as four. And yesterday, I also did laundry. Before making the bed, I sprayed it with bed bug power. Yes, this wonderful motel has cockroaches and bed bugs. But it’s better than sleeping in my van when it 35 degrees outside.
My coin collection, I had $200,000 invested in it. You can look up the price of gold and silver if you want. But, it’s fair to say, If I wouldn’t have been robbed, I wouldn’t be homeless right now. But then, the O’Dovero family wouldn’t have the opportunity to show how much they love and respect me. Do you know that stealing is a sin? Do you think sinners go to Heaven? Do you think God rates sins differently? Robin Hood steals from the rich and gives to the poor, so his sin isn’t bad? That type of sin is OK? Right? Do you think God would let a known sinner, a man that’s proud of his sins, sit at his personal table for dinner? But if he were to steel from the poor and give to the rich? Then Robin Hood should go straight to hell? For part of an afternoon, I had a check for $700,000 laying on a table right in front of me. You can’t just ask google or Siri what my rare gold and silver mint state coin collection would be worth today, 40+ years later, but I can give you an estimate, in a little bit. If that $700,000 wasn’t stolen from me, I wouldn’t be homeless either. So, thou shall not steal is not the commandment I quit believing in.
Do you think God has a plan for me? When I was 16 years old, I bought a $1,000,000 insurance policy on a brand new 1979 Ford pickup truck. I bought it in the fall of 1978. I bought the $1,000,000 insurance policy on my new truck because of a story I heard my father tell his friends. He had recently bought the Old City Hall building in downtown Marquette Michigan for $75,000. It was on the front page of the Mining Journal, so you can look it up. The very first winter, before he did anything to the building, he was sued by a lady for $10,000 claiming to slip and fall walking on the front steps of the building. But what really did it for me was my father telling the story of her husband also suing for $10,000, and getting it, because he couldn’t have sex with his wife while she was laid up with a broken leg?
Do you think that if someone becomes ill or injured that they bring shame to the family?
Do you think my breaking my neck and becoming paralyzed brought shame to the family?
In 1979, just weeks after spending the first 6 months plus in hospitals after the accident, I met with my father and his Lawyer at the dining room table of the family house. There wasn’t another sole for miles, or at least that’s the way it felt. On the table was a several page document with only the last page showing. It had a little red arrow saying, “sigh here.” There was also a $100+ pen laying right next to it. What I did next made my dad’s Lawyer turn white. I flipped the pages over and started reading from the beginning on page 1.
I read every word of that document without pausing or looking up, until I came to the paragraph that showed I had to pay my mother and father $100,000 each or the first $200,000 of the $700,000 check that was paper clipped to the back of the document with my name on it. I looked at my father and the ghost white Lawyer, who looked like he was about to piss himself, and asked, “Why am I paying you and mom $100,000 each?” My father just said, “That’s just how things are done.” He didn’t care. He knew I was going to sign it.
Here’s how it should have been handled. You should NEVER allow family or friends in the room when you’re talking with your Lawyer for the first time. I don’t care if you are 5, 55 or 105 years old. You talk to the Lawyer alone the first time, and maybe the first couple of times, AND you make sure the Lawyer understands who they are working for, YOU! If your Lawyer doesn’t do that, fire him, report him and find one that respects you and shows he’s working for you.
Do you think my father thought of me as an invalint? Back in 1979?
Do you think my father thought or thinks of me as a man with wants, needs and dreams like him? Do you think my mother and the rest of the family think I have wants, needs and dreams like them?
The morning I woke up in the hospital on May 13, 1979, I was looking at Dr. Brish, a few other medical staff dressed in white and several members of the family looking scared as scared can be. In his thick German accent, Dr. Brish told me I was basically an invalint. He told me I was never going to walk again, never going to feed myself, never going dress myself, never, never, never…
Dr. Brish made it sound pretty convincing that I was an invalint and that’s all I was ever going to be. He nearly had me believe I was.
I don’t think it was much more than a year after the accident when my mother packed up and moved to Florida with the three youngest boys. I wasn’t invited.
Why don’t you think I was invited? I cried myself to sleep more than once asking that question.
For the next two years, I had to tell the cleaning lady when I was going into the bathroom so she could come in after I was naked and help me with my bathroom needs. Why? My mother and father told my insurance company that they didn’t want professional health care worker coming to the house. My mother and father told the insurance company that my mother was going to take care of my daily needs and they charged my insurance company $540 per month to take care of me. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fun. I’m leaving it there. I will say, I wouldn’t wish that shame on those in the family that hate me, or going to hate me for writing this blog.
I don’t want to get in to too much detail, but two things need to happen when your life changes as much as mine did all those years ago. For those that don’t know me, and for all but a hand full that do, I broke my neck that destroyed my spinal cord in an auto accident. What that did was basically disconnect my brain from most of my body. So, not only can I not move my legs and other muscles by thinking about it, I cannot go to the bathroom by thinking about it. For me to go to the bathroom, it takes a physical procedure. When I left the hospital in 1979, I was still an invalint. I couldn’t take care of myself, yet. I needed help or assistance. My mother and father decided that rather than hire a professional healthcare worker to come to the house and help me with my bathroom needs and teach me how to do it myself, my mother said she would do it. But, after a year, she didn’t want to do it anymore so she moved to Florida, without me.
Do you think my mother thinks she was wrong she had minimum waged paid cleaning ladies without proper training taking care of me rather than professional trained people in the health care profession?
The doctors and therapists at the rehab hospital in Denver thought it was WRONG! When I told them my mother moved to Florida, they asked who was helping me? When I told them, red lights started flashing, sirens started screaming and people started running in and out of rooms like the Russians just dropped the bomb.
I quickly revised my story to my mother going to Florida for two weeks, only two weeks. I told a big fat lie to protect my mother.
The two things I needed to do in order to take care of myself? 1) Get all the proper medical equipment and supplies and “learn” how to use them, and 2) gain the confidence to do it on my own. The first, that wasn’t that hard. The insurance company paid for all of it. The confidence side of things, well that’s another kettle of fish.
That’s why I started writing this blog! I want you that are challenged to know that it isn’t easy. No one’s life is easy! Take your time and learn how to do things for yourself. Believe in yourself. I did and still do my practicing of new stuff and everyday stuff when I’m alone. It’s a lot easier when people aren’t judging you. I’ll make you a promise. I won’t quit and give up if you won’t.
While my mother was living in Florida, my father stole the rest of the $700,000 insurance money. He did show his love because he allowed me to live in his basement and gave me a $14,000 allowance to live on. Don’t forget, he was receiving monthly checks from my insurance company for $540 (tax free), even though my mother was living in Florida. The $14,000 I was receiving from him was a tax write off for him. How do I know? I had to pay taxes on the $14,000 I received as income.
Do you believe in God? Does God have a plan for me?
All this love and respect from my mother and father all those years ago didn’t diminish my faith in God, it strengthens it. The first turning point in my life came on a Friday morning. It was in February, 1981. The phone rang at exactly 8.00am. I can still see the alarm clock when I reached over to answer the phone. The lady on the other end of the phone asked me my name and address. She asked a few more simple questions, and then she asked me my age. She didn’t ask me my birthday, but my actual age. My brain went completely blank. How old am I? When I was 9, I couldn’t wait to be 10 and double digits. When I was 12, I couldn’t wait to be 13 and a teenager. At 15, it was 16 so I could legally drive. At 17, it was 18, so I could sign up for the draft. It wasn’t long after my 18th birthday I received the card in the mail telling me to go to an office at the Post Office building and register. You should have seen the look on the guy behind the counter when I showed him my card. It wasn’t a draft registration like those so unlucky men went through in the 1960s, but more of a preregistration registration for a possible draft. I didn’t push my wheelchair the ½ mile round trip down and back up some of the steepest hills in Marquette to the post office because I was worried, I’d get in trouble if I didn’t. It was my way of telling myself that I was still a man. Back to the phone call, how old am I? I’m good at math, so it’s 1981 and I was born in ’62, so that makes me 19. I told her 19 and hung up. I then laid there thinking there was something wrong with this picture. What’s wrong with this picture? It took a minute, but the 500-watt light flashed on so bright you would have been blinded for life if you were in the room. It was February, my birthday is in April, I was still 18 for 2 more months.
That was the day I stopped being an invalint.
But not the day I stopped believing in God. That took another, wait, I’m still good at math, 13 more years.
When they make the movie of my life, who do you think should narrate? Morgan Freeman is a world class narrator. I’d kind of like Bruce Willis. Oh, the guy that hosts the show, Dirty Jobs, Mike Rowe would do a great job as well. There might be a few people that think me telling my life story is a dirty job. But then anyone thinking I’m the bad guy when a father … a mother … a family … homeless … left to die … $150,000,000 empire …
Good, bad or ugly, it is going to make an interesting movie!
If God had a name what would it be
And would you call it to His face
If you were faced with Him in all His glory
What would you ask him if you had just one question?
And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin’ to make his way home?
That’s one of those songs that get stuck in your head and you just can’t get it out. Don’t believe me?
And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
What if God was one of us?
Don’t stop …`
I think it’s time to cook some ham and eggs, listen to Joan Osborne and maybe John Lennon’s Imagine. I need a new song to rattle around in my head.
I’m back. For you, I was away for a second. Truth be told, it was three days since I ate the ham and eggs.
And believe it or not, I’ve had that song stuck in my head the whole time.
Let’s see, where was I? Yeah, yeah, God is great.
In the early, formative years of my life, I thought I was on this earth for a purpose. My religious beliefs were so strong that I literally thought the 10 commandments were gospel. So, when my father stole my insurance money, I refused to think of it as stealing. I just kept lying to myself that he, my mother and the family were borrowing it and someday they’d make it up to me. Not only did I not allow myself to think it was stealing, I couldn’t tell my friends they stole my money, because God would hear me. And, of course, I couldn’t hire or even tell a Lawyer about it.
Could you imagine if I hired a Lawyer 35 to 40 years ago, what would happen? Once we went to court, the district attorney would catch wind. By law, he/she would be forced to press criminal charges against my father for embezzling $500,000. Peter E. O’Dovero embezzled every penny of my insurance money. Not a single investment Peter made with my money had my name ANY WHERE on it. Peter O’Dovero put his name on every deed, title or paperwork showing ownership, and not mine! That’s embezzlement! How would my Lawyer prove it back then? If I were to sue my father it would be a civil case. Even though it’s a pretty clear-cut case, it would still take time and resources from a Lawyer to win the case. Now I’m not a Lawyer and I don’t play one on TV, but to make winning the case easy-peasy a smart Lawyer would let someone else try the case first and then piggy back on it. And who better than the government to try the case first. The government doesn’t care about money. They just raise taxes when they need more money. So, a smart Lawyer would convince a district attorney to try the case first. When they win in 1981, Peter E. O’Dovero goes to jail and no $150,000,000 empire in 2021.
Do you think my brothers and sisters would welcome me into their homes 40 years ago if I put their father in prison? Send me birthday presents and Christmas presents? Call me on the phone and invite me over for dinner? Do you think they’d be proud of me?
But what do I know? I’m just a long-haired homeless hippy.
But again, I’m not going to tell a Lawyer my father stole my money and my mother moved to Florida without me. I want them to go to heaven. I don’t allow myself to even think they did anything wrong.
Could you imagine being a grandchild of Peter and Lois and after a long life of skiing in the Alps, lion hunting on the Serengeti with cameras of course, vacationing in family-owned homes all around the world and living the life of Riley, they finally die at a ripe old age of 120. They arrive at the Pearly Gates and there are no O’Dovero to meet them, because there are no O’Dovero’s in heaven?
For 24 years, I never allowed myself to even think my mother and father did anything wrong. My belief in God made that impossible.
Remember doctor Brish told me I was basically an invalint on May 13, 1979?
Do you know what scared me the most when I was lying in traction in the hospital bed? I wonder if women sometimes have a similar feeling living in a man’s world? Or people that are African Americans living in the man’s world? Or others that have disabilities? My biggest fear when I was lying in traction in the hospital bed wasn’t that I wasn’t going to ever walk again! My biggest fear was how different I was from everyone else. Would people want me around? Would people still talk to me? Was I going to spend the rest of my life stuck trapped if you will in the basement of my parent’s house? In 1979, you didn’t see people with disabilities out in public very often. Doctor Brish didn’t paint a very promising picture of my new life.
When I read the contract that I had to pay my mother and father $100,000 each for their pain and suffering, I felt so alone. You could never in a million years, my family couldn’t in 10 million years understand what it felt like to be me. Well, I shouldn’t say you wouldn’t understand, but I’ll stick with the feeling and belief that my family will never ever understand.
When my mother moved to beautiful sunny warm Florida without me, I cried. I felt so alone.
When she moved back to Marquette a few years later and opened up a beauty salon with her $100,000 of pain and suffering money, I was so happy she came back to Marquette that I started cooking the family diners. I wanted to be there for her and help her. If her beauty salon was successful, she wouldn’t move back to Florida. With the assistance of the three youngest brothers, we cooked the dinners for the family, for Peter for 10 years. Guess where I lived for those 10 years?
Back in the Pirates and Buccaneers days, the biggest fear of the sailors wasn’t being forced to walk the plank. That’s Hollywood! The biggest fear for a sailor in those times was being put ashore on a deserted island. To be forced to live alone, without the contact of any human being for the rest of one’s life would be worse than death for most people.
Why did I let Peter O’Dovero steal my $700,000 of insurance money and invest it so he, my mother, my brothers, my sisters and their families could benefit from it and use it to build what turned out to be a $150,000,000 empire? Not only did I not want them to go to hell, but I didn’t want them to turn their backs on me, abandon me and leave me feeling alone and unwanted, to die feeling alone and unloved (and homeless).
I’m starting to think that wasn’t a very wise plan.
But what if it wasn’t up to me?
What if it’s been God’s plan all along?
When you’re homeless for 2 ½ years, a lot of thoughts pass between your ears. At least mine anyway.
Now, I moved to California in September of 1995 to make a life for myself – far away from my mother’s and father’s basement. It was scary. I moved to California by myself. I didn’t know anyone living in California. I was alone, but I knew it would be temporary and it would be worth it because I’d finally be out of my mother and father’s basement. That’s how bad I wanted/needed to get out of that basement. I chose to live with my biggest fear rather than live in my parents basement.
My mother was coming to California to visit me for a week once a year. It was around 2001 when my shoulders started giving me a lot of pain. The writing was on the wall. My body was aging. I decided it was time again to talk to my family about the money. On my mother’s 2003 visit, I asked her if she’d help me to talk to dad about it?
My mother looked at me and said, “You don’t deserve a penny from this family!”
The next day my brother Paul drove her to the airport. That was the last time she ever came to visit me.
What did I do to her that she could hate me that much?
What do you think God thinks of my mom?
Then on my 2004 annual summer visit to Marquette, with my shoulders not feeling any better, I decided I’d talk with my father about the money. I waited until the end of summer trip to set up a meeting Peter. I didn’t want to ruin a fun summer by getting shot down AGAIN early in the summer. To my surprise he agreed to meet in just a few days. Somehow, stepsister Connie got wind of it and arranged an intervention with the help of all the women in the family. I don’t know why, but stepsister Connie told Peter that he didn’t steal any money from me, that he didn’t owe me any money, that he shouldn’t meet with me and that he had the total support of the family to turn his back on me.
So, we never met to resolve the money issue.
Oh! I almost forgot to mention. Stepsister Connie also fabricated a cock and bull story and told Peter that I was in Marquette to murder him and commit suicide. I didn’t have a gun! But why ruin a good story with the facts? Right Mickey?
I still wasn’t ready to fight for myself, besides the ½ million-dollar coin collection, I now had a motorhome.
I left Marquette that fall (2004) and I never returned for my annual summer vacation.
Every year I lived in California, from 1996 and on; I drove back to Marquette for the summer. The first four years, I drove back without a driver’s license. I didn’t want the family to forget about me. The summer of 2005, I drove my motorhome to Alaska and not to Marquette.
Do you know how many phone calls I received from the entre O’Dovero from 2004 through 2018?
Sometimes fears are real!
What could I have possibly done that’s so terrible that a family with a $150,000,000 empire would leave me homeless for 2 ½ years and counting?
I’m finally writing this sad part of my life because, the O’Dovero family finally “Crossed the Rubicon.”
Crossing the Rubicon is against the law. In 49 BC during the Roman times, it was against the Law to cross the Rubicon River with an army. The Rubicon River is a river located in Northern Italy. If you look it up in Italian, which I did, Crossing the Rubicon is a metaphor for crossing a point of no return.
When the entire O’Dovero family watched me leave Marquette homeless for the 3rd straight winter and didn’t give a shit was like telling me they didn’t care if I died. Then, what completed the crossing was when the Trust gave each of my brothers and sisters a check for $35,000 around Christmas (2020). $35,000 times 8 brothers and sisters = $280,000. The Christmas (2019) before they also gave themselves checks for $35,000 or another $280,000. And the Christmas (2018) before that, they gave themselves checks for $25,000. That’s $760,000 my brothers and sisters paid themselves from the trust while I’ve been homeless.
But they love me and want the best for me? Right?
In 1979, I became paralyzed in an automobile accident. Because I loved my family, I had bought a $1,000,000 insurance policy. That policy gave me a check for $700,000 in 1979. That $700,000 was intended to build me the house of my dreams and invest so I could have safe steady income for the rest of my life. Instead, I had to pay my mother and father $200,000 ($100,000 each) for their pain and suffering. Then Peter stole the rest of the $700,000 and invested it into his construction company, real estate and a beauty salon for my mother.
How much of the $150,000,000 O’Dovero empire would be mine if Peter would have done the right thing, the legal thing or just the loving caring thing? Remember the trust I mentioned earlier? After graduating from NMU with a bachelor degree in Finance/Accounting and minor in computers. Now, I didn’t go to college for a piece of paper. I went for an education. A good part of the classes I took were geared toward estate Law and understanding financial statements. I also took a class or two on Greek and Roman history. One of my first assigned tasks from Peter when I went to work for him after graduating from Northern was to create an estate plan. Peter and Lois never had one. In 1991, the exemption on the death tax, sorry, estate tax was $500,000. Since Peter and Lois were married at the time, that adds up to $1,000,000. What that means is I could fund an irrevocable trust with $1,000,000 of Peter’s and Lois’ estate, which I did in the fall of 1991. Then I took the O’Dovero commercial real estate business out of the Dark Ages, it was a small side business to his much larger construction company, at the same time I was also putting the trust on a fast track to fame and fortune. In the 3 ½ years I ran the trust, I found 5 organizations that wanted new buildings built for them. I negotiated and signed 5 lease agreements. I negotiated so many $500,000 to $1,000,000+ bank loans with the Union National Bank, that the bank had to stop loaning me money. The bank had a ceiling on how much it could loan one person, and I blasted through it in less than 3 years. Some might think the 10-screen movie theater was my crowning achievement while running the real estate side of the empire, but it was a building for the Fish and Wildlife. The trust is so prized now, that Peter has been suing in the court system for the past 5 years trying to get it put in his name. What’s the trust worth now? $35,000,000+/-
If $1,000,000 investment in the family empire in 1991 is now worth $35,000,000+/-, then it’s not too far of a stretch to say that $700,000 invested in 1980 (11 years earlier) is worth $40,000,000 to $50,000,000.
You know what? Let’s play around with the numbers and see what we come up with? I love doing research. When I had an apartment in San Joe, I had on my computer desk two fast laptops with 17-inch screens and two 24-inch monitors hooked up to them. You wouldn’t believe how much knowledge you could research in a short period of time with 4 computer screens. Right now, I have a 17-inch laptop and a 15-inch laptop sitting in front of me.
I have Windows Word here on this17-laptop which I’m telling you my story and the website www.dollartimes/inflation on the 15-laptop. In the “amount” box, I type in $700,000. In the “from” box, I click on “1980” (dollars). In the “to” box, I click on “1991” (dollars). What the calculator tells you is the $700,000 in 1980 would be like investing $1,221,121 in the trust in 1991. So, you could say, without the need of independent appraisers, if $1,000,000 invested in the O’Dovero empire for 29 years is now worth $35,000,000, then it’s safe to say that my $700,000 invested in the O’Dovero empire for 40+ years could be worth $40,000,000 to $50,000,000.
Again, it’s a proven fact that $1,000,000 increased the family empire by $35,000,000 from 1991 through today. That’s 29 years of asset growth. My $700,000 was invested in 1980. That’s 40 years of asset growth. If $35,000,000 is the result of 29 years of growth, then it’s safe to say that $50,000,000 could be the result of 40 years of growth.
I’m starting to think $50,000,000 might be a very conservative.
Let’s see, what else can I come up with?
How about the Time Value of Money?
The website I’m using this time is www.online-calculator.org
Then clicking on the TVM Calculator link
Present value $700,000
Interest rate 12%
Compound Period Annually
Additional Cont. 0 or left blank
It doesn’t matter how you look at it. The O’Dovero family made TENS of MILLIONS from my broken neck. Those millions created jobs and careers for everyone in the family, but me.
Do you think my brothers, sisters and their families love me for the sacrifice I made for them?
Do you think my mother loves me loves me for the sacrifice I made for her?
To this day, my mother has never fought for 1 second for me to receive any money from the O’Dovero family. She told me to my face on more than one occasion that I don’t deserve anything and she’s not going to fight for me to get anything.
Do you think my father loves me? Or, do you think it’s all about building an empire for him?
I woke up this morning thinking about a phase in the bible that goes, It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.
Do you think a family with a $150,000,000 empire that’s left me homeless to die, a third of it made off of my broken neck, is going to be welcomed into heaven with open arms?
I’m worried God isn’t going to allow them into heaven.
In 2004, when stepsister Connie, who had the support of the rest of the family, except one brother and his wife, told my father that I was in Marquette to murder him and commit suicide, I was deeply hurt. Then for the next 14 years, no one in the family talked to me. The seeds of hatred were being planted. But I didn’t want to hate, so I continually fought it off. Then I was robbed. The not so nice people stole my several hundred-thousand-dollar coin collection. Not long after that the bleeding ulcers happened and my blood went anemic. I stopped working. While this was happening, my insurance company, Nationwide was not on my side. They stopped paying for my prescriptions and medical bills. Before I knew it, I was homeless.
My life was going to hell in a handbasket. I just looked up the meaning of that phase. I don’t like it. I won’t be using it any more. Let’s just say, my days of being happy were becoming harder to come by. But all of a sudden, things were looking up. I found a new doctor that diagnosed my blood was anemic, so anemic that I had to have bleeding ulcers. I started taking iron pills and changed my diet. I started feeling better immediately. A couple of weeks later I received a phone call from my brother Joe. Two days later my brother Jim called. Three weeks later I was on an airplane to Marquette Michigan. I wasn’t going to be homeless anymore. You see! It wouldn’t have done me any good to hate!
I arrive in Marquette on a Saturday night. I almost didn’t make it. My original fight was at 10:30am on a Thursday, but my buddy, Steve, that was driving thought it was at 1 o’clock, so Thursday was a bust. I tried rebooking the flight online, and failed miserably, so Friday was a bust. Brother Joe was able to book me a flight for Saturday. Then my buddy Steve couldn’t find my driver’s license. My life was a blur the last two plus years before going homeless, and I had forgotten to renew my driver’s license. I had three weeks before the flight to Marquette, so I applied for a replacement card. I used Steve’s address since I was homeless and didn’t have one. We were two blocks from Steve’s house on the way to the airport when I asked Steve if he had my new driver’s license card? A week earlier he called me and told me it came in the mail. On the way to the airport he told me it was lost. I’ve got an expired driver’s license card. I’ll just have to bluff my way on to the plane.
I can’t wait for the movie.
The reason my family was flying me to Marquette at the end of October wasn’t because of Halloween, or because I was homeless and they were going to give me a house to live in. Our father, Peter, was suing us, his children and trying to take the trust I wrote away from us. My father is 85 years old, soon to be 86 in May. He was the father of the $150,000,000 empire. In the early 90’s, I really got the commercial real estate side of the empire running on all 8 cylinders and brother Jim did the same with the construction company. Now don’t get me wrong, Peter’s hot rod empire in the 90’s wasn’t crashing. It just needed to get the carbon out, the timing advanced and our new younger views were like 104 octane racing fuel. Jim told me he doubled the size of the construction company a couple of times when he ran it and I more than doubled the commercial real estate side in the 3 ½ years I ran it.
I arrived in Marquette on that Saturday night. I wasn’t feeling well. But being in Marquette and seeing my family for the first time in 14 years, I had more than enough adrenaline to see the family. I don’t think it was more than 10 minutes when my mother had to tell me it was my fault that we hadn’t talked in 14 years. She told me it was because I never answered my phone when they called. I looked around the room and then at my mom. I don’t want to argue my first night in town, but I told her, if she called me only on my birthday and Christmas, that’s 28 times in the past 14 years. I kept looking at her. Mom there are 20 people in here. If everyone here tried calling me only two times a year, that’s 560 phone calls I didn’t answer? Then before she could answer, I said, “mom, let’s not argue about the past. We all made mistakes. But since you brought up the past, 40 years ago I gave you $100,000 of my insurance money. I don’t know if you heard or not, but I’m homeless. If you could please give me that $100,000 back, I could buy a motor home to live in?” My mom looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and said, “I don’t remember it.” I think she then turned away and buttered herself a piece of bread to show she was done talking to me.
Do you think God is going to welcome my mother into heaven?
Monday morning, I was in the courtroom watching my father suing us children to try get the trust back in his name. There was brothers Jim and Joe, stepsister Connie and mom on one side of the room and dad, twin sister Jean and brother Pete on the other side of the tiny courtroom. We’ll call them, the two side of the family. When they called me to the stand, it was interesting. OMG I can’t wait for the movie. I don’t think the trust Lawyers asked me more than five questions. I was told on the call from Jim in October that the family had been fighting in court for four years over the irrevocable trust. How is that possible? You got me. If you look up the word “irrevocable,” it says; not able to be changed, reversed, or recovered, final! 4 years and hundreds of thousands of dollars in Lawyer fees and neither side could win. I guess that’s why brothers Joe and Jim (2 of the 3 trustees) called me up.
Why do you think it took them four years to call me?
I’ll talk later about my fun time on the witness stand, and I’m not joking. It was fun. I had the entire courtroom laughing time and time again – even my dad and the judge. But for now, I’ll just mention the beginning of my time on the stand and the final minutes. The beginning was simple. To make an irrevocable trust legal, you must dot the “i’s” and cross the “t’s” properly. Which I did. I explained the origins of how and why I started the trust and I believe that was the end of my father taking the trust away from us kids.
Why do you think my father wanted the trust from us kids? Is it possible he’s not the businessman he used to be so he needs the money from the trust or he’ll go bankrupt?
For parts of two days, I was on the witness stand. I’ll be honest with you my dad’s Lawyer never asked the right questions. I’ll talk more about that in the upcoming book and I promise you, you’ll enjoy the movie. But for now, here’s a teaser. For some reason, my dad’s Lawyer tried to make me look ??? like I was dumb, or against the family? He spent an hour or two questioning me about this blog. He wanted me to say I hated my stepsister because I was calling her Medusa and I hated my mother because I called her Queen Cleopatra. When that didn’t work, he tried getting me to agree with him that el Duce in Italian means the shit. He went on and on while I keep telling him NO it means the leader. That I took the term el Duce from what the Italians called their great leader, until he wasn’t, Mussolini. Finally! I had enough, so I blurted out after he said for the umpteenth time, that el Duce also spells the shit in Italian, “I Don’t Know!” I said, “I Never Looked Up How To Spell The Shit In Italian!” I can’t wait for the movie. The entire courtroom broke out laughing so hard that my dad’s Lawyer quit questioning me. He looked toward the judge and told her he was done questioning me. The judge told me the questing was over and I was free to go. I turned to her and said, “Really? This is fun. I don’t want to quit yet!”
It was a week later when I was scheduled to fly back to California to continue my life of being homeless, living in a van. I wasn’t feeling well, so brother Jim took me to the emergency room in Ishperming. I told the doctor about being diagnosed with low iron and probable bleeding ulcers, but I wasn’t able to have the tests before coming to Marquette. It wasn’t long when the doctor told me I was going straight to Marquette General Hospital (MGH) because my iron count was now down to 7.5 from 8.75. 8.75 was what it was when they found the problem in California a couple of weeks earlier. Two hours later, it was down to 6.5 at MGH. The doctor at MGH told me that because the iron levels in my blood dropped so fast in two hours that there was something seriously wrong with me and I wasn’t just knocking on heaven’s door, but I was banging on it. If your iron levels drop below 6, there’s a good chance you die. They immediately put an IV in my arm with two pints of blood
Do you know how many members of the family that didn’t work at MGH came to visit me?
Don’t be afraid. You can say the number out loud.
It’s a lonely feeling when you wake up in the hospital after nearly dying and neither your mother nor your father comes to visit you?
Do you think that it was because this time I was homeless and I didn’t have a million-dollar insurance policy?
I get out of the hospital and I’m still not feeling well. Two weeks later I find out the O’Dovero family is trying to put me into a nursing home, for the rest of my life. When I don’t want to go in one, I’m evicted by the police from the hotel room the family was paying for. I am not lying. Two of Marquette’s finest knocked on my hotel room door at the Holiday Inn and told me I had to go. Not feeling much love, I told the family I was ready to go back to California. Two days later I was on a plane to California. Three weeks later my friends found me sicker than a dog living (dying) in my van in a parking lot. That prompted an ambulance ride to the emergency room.
The O’Dovero family is a family with a $150,000,000 empire, a good $50,000,000 made with the insurance money they stole from me. I’ve been homeless for 2 ½ years and they still won’t build me a house to live in. The sad part of it is, after asking my mother for the $100,000 that I gave her 41 years earlier for the pain and suffering I was told I cause her and the family and she said no, the only thing I asked them for the next two years plus after that was a job so I could work somewhere in the vast $150,000,000 O’Dovero empire.
Guess how many jobs I was offered in the O’Dovero $150,000,000 empire?
Do you know that the Roman number system doesn’t have a zero?
I was told the concept of a zero in accounting was invented by the Arabs in the Middle
East by a Spanish teacher I had in San Jose, but I heard somewhere that the use of zero in mathematics was first used in India before it made its way to the Middle East.
Why do you think no one in the O’Dovero family will hire me? Everyone else in the O’Dovero family that wants a job is hired. Do think it’s because I have long hair?
Last summer I was on my way to Marquette when I became seriously ill again from living (dying) in my van. That time it was four months in a hospital/nursing home. When I finally made it to Marquette, I was starting to lose hope. But the ever so optimistic dumb ass I am, I continued to try to get a job from the family. I never asked for money. I never asked them to build me a house or buy me a motor home. I only asked for a job. When I first drove into Marquette with my home on my back (June, 2019), my mother offered to run an extension cord out to my van, so I could sleep in it with a heater on during the cold nights. She was living alone because my brother Jay, who lives with her, was out of town for a year. I’m not going to sleep in my van in my mother’s driveway when she has a bedroom available. When I said no, my mother offered to put a bed in her garage for me. The family dogs lived inside her house, never her garage. That was two years ago. Last summer after four months in the hospital, she offered to let me live in the basement of a rental house she owns. To some and the family I’m guessing, it sounds like a good deal. To me, the O‘Dovero family will never respect me as a MAN with wants, needs and dreams like they have. When I broke my neck 42 years ago, my insurance company gave me a check for $700,000. That $700,000 check wasn’t meant to be used by the O’Dovero family to help them build a $150,000,000 empire and leave me to live in my van or in the basement of THEIR houses. That money was meant for me to build the house of my dreams. To make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t even furnished. No bed. No tables. No lamps. No cookware. Empty.
When I arrived home after spending six months in three different hospital back in 1979, my parents took every penny of my $700,000 insurance money, gave me a room in their basement and a $14,000 allowance to live on. I wanted to have my own home, so I could have the confidence to meet a nice girl, marry her, and have a house to raise our children in. Because my parents didn’t wanted this for me, I started slowly by working part time jobs. As my confidence grew, I knew I needed a better paying job then minimum wage jobs to get out of the basement of their house, so I went to college. Neither my mother nor my father would pay for it, so I paid for it out of that $14,000 allowance. After graduating from Northern Michigan University with a bachelor’s degree, the only child of Peter and Lois to get one, I tried working for the family and buying the family house. When that didn’t work out, I finally officially moved out of the basement of my mother and father’s house. That’s when I moved to California. I worked my ass off to get out of the basement of my parent’s house. I was 33 years old. I’ll be dammed if I ever live in the basement of their house again.
I was just thinking. The O’Dovero family stole my money and made $50,000,000 with it. Do you know what would be nice of the family?
They could make up for the sins of the past. They could start with my father putting $1,000,000 into my checking account so I can build the house of my dreams in Marquette. AND, my mother putting $1,000,000 into my checking account so I can build a 2nd house of my dreams in a state that doesn’t have snow. AND, my brothers and sisters through the Trust/Midway Rentals putting $500,000 into my checking account so I can buy the motorhome of my dream, new van of my dreams and start enjoying the life of my dreams.
That would be nice starting point! Again, starting point! But that’s not the only reason why I’m writing this long-winded chapter of my life. Remember I asked you if you believed in God? I went to a very good friend’s funeral several years ago. We were on the deck of his house. Everyone was handed a helium filled balloon. I remember there were red ones, blue one and yellow ones. When someone’s signal and we all released them. There were 40 to 50 of us watching the multi colored balloons rising towards heaven. I looked around at the crowd of people that loved Mark and this unbelievable feeling overwhelmed me. I looked back to the sky and three of the balloons were caught in the branches of trees. I looked back at the crowd of people and I could feel the energy from everyone trying to get those three balloons free so Mark’s sole could make it to heaven.
Is there a God? Is there a heaven? I don’t know! But I want there to be a heaven for Mark and all the other good people in this world. I want there to be a heaven for my mother, father, brothers and sisters and their family. That’s why I’m not going to hate anyone. How could you hate someone that you want to see in heaven someday?
With that said, I’m scared to death that God won’t allow some or all of the O’Dovero family into heaven because of money. A wise man said it pretty clearly in a thick black book that I had the privilege to read years ago when I visited my aunt Joyce and uncle Ken.
It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.
What if it was God’s plan all along for me to have to sink to a level where I feel I’m living in a living hell, so I’ll fight for all the money the O’Dovero family stole and I now feel owe me?
If I accept anything less than the $50,000,000, I won’t be forcing the family to admit to their sins.
I don’t know! But can you or anyone say with all certainty, that it isn’t?
Again, I’m probably wrong, but I now believe that being homeless is my penance to bear for my sins.
I’d rather find out that the O’Dovero family was always going to be welcome into heaven and that I’m wasting time, then spend eternity in heaven without them or eternity in hell with them because I was afraid to fight for them by not fighting for the money.
OK now what? When the entire O’Dovero family watched me drive out of Marquette for the 3rd straight winter, homeless and then my brothers and sisters giving themselves another $280,000 from the trust I created for them, they crossed the Rubicon. And, When I post this on my blog, I’ll be crossing the Rubicon with those in the family that care more about money than me, my health, my safety and their possible salvation.
Again, what now? I want to post this before my hair becomes any grayer. So, I want to finish this post soon. The question still remains? Why has it been so easy for an entire family to steal my money and leave me homeless? Then a possible answer came when I was in the hospital for four months last summer. A lady from the office side of the hospital and not the medical side pointed it out to me. After I told her about my $700,000 that my mom and dad stole and invested for the family 40+ years ago and now it’s a $150,000,000 empire they intend to leave their other children and their families, she told me the entire family has been financially discriminating against me. She told me the only way I was going to get the family to listen to me and make it up to me is with the help of a Lawyer and the courts. She told me that it happens all the time, but it’s usually the other way around. The children put the parents into nursing homes so they can declare them unable to manage their affairs, so they can legally steal their assets.
When I heard this I nearly fell out of bed. Some of the O’Dovero’s tried and many still want me in a nursing home. And the scary part of it is, some of my nieces and nephews are banging the drum, playing the flute and leading the charge to put me in a nursing home. They’ll say it’s an assisted living home, but what’s the difference? I’d rather they fight for me to get the house or two houses of my dreams. If I let them put me into a nursing home, then they can justify disowning me. If I have money, Medicare and Medicaid won’t pay for the nursing home. So, I’d get nothing from the family.
I don’t want to go to court and sue. Like before, if I go to court I’ll win, but the cost to the family will be devastating. If it’s proven that the family has been discriminating against me, even if it’s only financially discrimination, the amount of business the family will lose could be in the millions. Governments are not allowed to do business with companies that discriminate. Many business, especially the larger ones have that same ban. Then the Marquette community may decide to stop doing business with the family. Anyone that has been watching the news can tell you. It’s not a good time to be discriminating against anyone.
So, mom, dad, stepsister Connie and brother Pete, think carefully before you go running to a Lawyer. I don’t have a Lawyer, yet, and I hope I don’t need one. But truth be told, I’m thinking I’ll be hearing from Law firms from all across the nation long before I actually need them. And, remember, I’m not just fighting for the money you stole, or for just my life, I’m fighting for your salvation as well. If I have to use the court system to get you to admit to your sins, well, let’s hope it never goes that far. I know you’ll be talking to your Lawyers, so Lawyers, please inform the family how I’ll use the courts to get the answers to ALL my questions. Let’s not go there, because I have a million questions I want to ask. (a million questions is a figure of speech. But trust me. I have a lot of questions that I’d love to get answered. I can already hear stepsister’s Connie’s Lawyer and mom’s Lawyer saying, “Objection! What does that question have to do with this case” and the judge saying, “Overruled! I want to hear the answer!” Then turning to look at mom, dad, stepsister Connie or other members of the O’Dovero family that are on the witness stand. “Please remember. You swore an oath to God to tell the truth.” )
I’m thinking so much clearer now that I stopped allowing that evil hatred emotion to cloud my thinking. I hope the O’Dovero’s can do the same so we can resolve this terrible chapter quickly.
Stepsister Connie, have you figured out why I started calling you by name?
Here’s a thought? What if it’s God’s plan for me to go to court and win a discrimination case against the O’Dovero family so I can draw national attention possibly worldwide attention to discrimination against the physically challenged?
What if I’m that person?
I don’t think I am. And, I don’t want to be that person! But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life living in a van homeless either. I’m guessing there has been scores of people throughout history that never imagined they’d lead a revolution. God knows I’m not a leader. But if my choice is to change the world, or live in my van, a nursing home, the basement of my mother’s house?
I’m ready to try something new.
My next blog will be focused on a 5-to-10-year business plan for a $150,000,000 empire.
Before I go, here’s an update on my situation. On March 17, 2021, 5 brothers and a sister, against the wishes of my brother Pete and twin sister Jean, deposited $7,000 into my checking account. A text from a trustee of the $35,000,000 trust I talked about earlier stated that I’d be receiving the same deposit every month, presumably on the 17th of every month. Guess what? My birthday is April 17th. I’ll let you know if it’s a one and done and another broken promise from the O’Dovero family, or if it’s a small, but appreciative step in the right direction.
I’m still $40,000 in debt, so the light at the end of my tunnel is still a long ways off.
Jerry O’Dovero (Disabled, Quadriplegic)
In my wildest dreams I never thought my life would, or could ever be like this – Homeless! Being homeless and living in a van has taken its toll. Last May (2020) I was 4 hours from Marquette to be honest it was probably closer to 5 hours. For the past few years, I usually drive a mile or 3 under the posted speed limit rather than a few miles over it. I’m homeless! I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere. This time when my unfortunate life circumstances caught up with me, again, it was on a Sunday and my catheter was no longer inside me. Catheters are designed to drain fluids from the inside of your body to the outside of your body. I don’t need to tell you that that’s not a good thing when the catheter isn’t inside the hole the doctors operated on you so the catheter can go from the inside to the outside. Add on to that, now I have an open hole that germs, bacteria, viruses and God knows what now has an open pathway to the inside of my body. It’s happened three times in the past. The first two times the hole closed up. The first time was 10? 15 years ago? It happened on a night the Detroit Redwings were in San Jose. I had bought $150 seats for the hockey game. For the 25 years I lived in San Jose I never missed a regular season Redwing game. This game I went with my buddy Richard. He like most of my friends in California are from the great state of Michigan. And of course, I was wearing a Detroit Redwings jersey! I didn’t know the catheter had fallen out, but I knew things were not well. Not only was I running a fever, but my legs were spasming out of control, it felt as if I was running a marathon. So, I wouldn’t be thrown out of my wheelchair, I had straps across my chest and ancles. I didn’t want to worry Richard any more than necessary, so I made the usual joke when the spasms are out of control, I’m burning calories! I’m not exaggerating a bit when I say I probably burnt more calories that night then the past couple of weeks combined. I was so hot or over heating that I couldn’t cool off even when I was pouring ice water on me. And exhausted, imagine running as fast as you can for hours without stopping for even a second. What makes it more challenging for me is my body is paralyzed from the chest down. Normally the only muscles I use to get my heart pumping are my shoulders and the few working muscles I still have working in my arms. I was burning calories. Nearly every muscle in my body was firing for hours. Even though I was at a Detroit Redwings hockey game and people were staring at me like I was different than everyone, the main thoughts going threw my head was all the ice cream and candy bars I was going to eat. Normally burning calories is difficult for me, so I don’t get to indulge in empty calories as I like to call them. Because people were looking at me like I was a little different than everyone else, I financially asked Richard if it was OK to leave in between the 2nd and 3rd periods. He is a good friend. I didn’t have to ask twice or explain myself. The next day, after hours of getting my body to relax, somewhat, I called an ambulance. The 2nd time I called my buddy Steve at 11 o’clock at night to bring me to the emergency room. That time I knew what the problem was right away, so I acted right away before things went bad. It was a work night for Steve, so he’s normally out of bed by 4 o’clock in the morning, but that didn’t matter to Steve. I didn’t have to ask him twice either. The 3rd time was just last summer. I was living in my van on the old Marquette County Airport runway my father owns when it happened. The hole wasn’t completely closed, so I quickly beelined it to the emergency room in Ishperming. They were able to save the hole by using a much smaller catheter. Then over the next two months I increased the size of the catheter one size at a time until I was back to my normal size, and of course antibiotics.
The last 6 plus years have not been my best health wise. It turns out I have anemic blood, four years undiagnosed. So last May when I woke up without a catheter inside me, I wasn’t surprised. Looking back on it, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened more often. I hadn’t been feeling well for some time. Some time? Boy that’s an understatement! My goal was to get to Marquette and find a new doctor and get a complete once over. But I was 4 to 5 hours short of making it. I was visiting my buddy Mike in Fond du Lac when it happened. So, I asked him to drove me to the emergency room. I didn’t even put on pants. I didn’t see a reason too. The fine medical personal at St Agnes were able to save the hole again with a smaller catheter. They also prescribed antibiotics. Hey, I was a happy man. That meant I didn’t need to rush to have an operation or find a doctor immediately when I arrived in Marquette. Agnes of Rome was a virgin martyr in the Christian religion. I believe she was only 12 or 13 years old when she was martyred by the Romans. And you think the world is a terrible place with horrible people living in the here and now? The world has had bad people doing bad things without feeling any guilt, shame or remorse since Cain killed Able! Do you remember Cain’s response was when God asked him where his brother was? Sometimes you have to be like God and ask the question even when you already know the answer!
Now I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV, but when or if I have a serious or life-threatening condition, I usually know. Although, I will admit the last two years I’m not too proud to say, I’ve haven’t done so well. Neither myself nor the doctors and staff at the St. Agnes emergency room noticed I had a life-threatening condition. Now please don’t misunderstand me, I didn’t notice anything majorly wrong either, so I’m not suggesting blame on the fine personal at St. Agnes. So, on Wednesday, just three days later you can imagine my horror when I noticed a holy crap serious infection in my groin area.
Mike, can you drive me back to the emergency room? And Mike, you can just drop me off this time. I’m going to be there for a while. Oh, may I leave my van at your house while I’m in the hospital? Again, like my other friends, I didn’t have to ask Mike twice.
Just three days after a visit to St. Agnes’ emergency room, I was back there again. This time a different doctor looked at my new problem and asked in a very concerned voice, why did you wait so long to come in?” “Doc, I was here at St. Agnes three days ago! My catheter fell out! The doctors in the emergency put a new one in for me! They didn’t notice anything wrong. I didn’t! No one did!” The next thing the Doc said was it was gangrene and he may have to amputate before it spreads, if it hasn’t spread already and it’s too late! I told him not too if he didn’t have to, but I didn’t want to die! He then asked if I had a medical directive? Yes Doc, but it’s in storage and not easy to find! If needed! Do you want to be resuscitated? Yes, unless I’m brain dead, then no! You don’t get a choice. It’s either, Yes, or No!
WOW! I didn’t even have to think about it. Even though I was disabled, I was left homeless, and I was left to die in the back of a van by my family. Doc, I don’t want to die!!!!! I didn’t say anymore, but I need to live. There are things I need to do! I need to tell this story!
I had drifted off in thought, so I was a little startled when the doctor returned back into the room. When did he leave? Gerald, would you rather go to Madison or Milwaukee? What? Why? They’re bigger hospitals and better equipped to treat you! We’re not equipped to deal with your situation! All I could think of is that can’t be good! It was obvious the doctors at St. Agnes were afraid for my life. I don’t care Doc. Which ever one you feel is best to take care of me? This time I watched the doctor leave. Oh crap! I don’t get scared very often, but my stomach started turning. This is the 3rd time since I been homeless that a doctor told me I was knocking on heaven’s door. Why didn’t I come in sooner? I could hear those words playing in my head like the chorus of a song that never stops. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I’m homeless living in a fucking van! Then that fear turned into something else. Something I’ve never felt before.
I started to feel hatred towards some of my family. That scared me even more then having parts of my body amputated, or even dying! Once you start hating someone, when does it stop? Does it stop? If you can hate one person, you can hate two! Ten! You can start hating everyone! Hitler didn’t hate just one person of the Jewish faith? He hated every Jewish person so much he had concentration camps built and 6,000,000 men, women and children were put to death in them. Hatred is a horrible emotion that destroys. I didn’t want to feel it, but it was too late. I couldn’t stop the feeling with a team of horses, a train locomotive or even a battleship.
I don’t know how long it was? A half hour? An Hour? Week? Month? My mind now was everywhere and nowhere! The only thing I can say for sure was I was no longer concerned about my health and what the doctors were going to do or needed to do to save my life. A much more powerful, evil emotion was controlling my thoughts. Then an anesthesiologist came into the room. Gerald, we’re going to operate on you very soon. Are you allergic to any medications? I don’t remember the list of other questions they asked me. I do remember an over whelming feeling of relief flow throughout my body. I do remember saying to the original doctor when he came back into the room (not the anesthesiologist), Doc, I know you’ll do your best. That’s all I ask. He looked at me and responded like he was Dr. McCoy (Bones) from the original Star Trek TV series; I’ll do my best. (The tone was like he was talking to Captain Kirk; GOD DAMM IT JIM. I’M A DOCTOR, OF COURSE I’LL DO MY BEST) It was the first time all night he talked with confidence. Looking back on it, maybe I poked or pricked his ego or his pride a little, because it was the first time he talked and made me feel like it was going to be OK. One of these days my eternal optimism is going to fail me with reality. Over the next several weeks I understood why the doctor was concerned or worried, but I don’t want to get a head of myself. The operation did go well.
Over the next week or so I had additional trips to the operating room. Since I’ve been hospitalized, my blood pressure would spike to 250 or above. For the first time, the anesthesiologist brought up (maybe I did, but I don’t want to steal credit from the doc if he did) the medical term autonomic hyperreflexia (He called it dysreflexia). It a medical condition that (I believe) only individuals with t-5 and above spinal cord injuries suffer. It’s a condition in which your involuntary nervous system overreacts to external or bodily stimuli. This reaction causes: a dangerous spike in blood pressure. I do remember telling the Doc I used to carry a medical card explaining autonomic hyperreflexia in my wallet, so if my blood pressure was out of control, medical personnel would know to give me nitroglycerin to bring it down. I lost my wallet and the card on a trip to Rhode Island. I was actually in Boston when I lost my wallet. The Doc (anesthesiologist) gave me a reinsuring smile like he understood I had knowledge and I wasn’t just a dumb ass in a wheelchair like some doctors make me feel. Trust me, if you don’t get bored and quit reading this story, you’ll read about a doctor or two like that. Again, the Doc made me feel like I was intelligent and knowledgeable about my spinal cord condition.
It turns out I also had a bladder stone the size of the meteorite that wipe out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago. The entire time I was I in the hospital my blood pressure was bouncing between 80 and 280. It was the same for my temperature. It bounced between 97.4 to 100.7. And when I say bounced, I mean bounced like a beach ball on a Daytona beach during spring beach. My blood pressure could be 80, then 10 minutes later it could be 230, 250 or higher and then 30 minutes to an hour later it could be back to 80 or so. The high blood pressure would drive my body temperature to rise. My blood pressure and temperature would fluctuate so often and so fast that the nursing staff wouldn’t even write them down when they were higher than normal. They would simply wait 30 minutes, 60 minutes or longer for them to drop to a safe normal range and write those numbers down. I was being the stupid nice guy and letting them get away with it until near the end of my hospital stay. Why was I being a dumbass for letting them get away with it? I’ll explain that later. In my being a dumbass defense, in the past when my blood pressure would jump to dangerous levels, I would get severe and possibly life-threatening headaches. The headaches would be so bad, they felt like someone was hitting my head with a 16-pound sledge hammer. Looking back on it, my Guardian Angel must have been feeling bad and protected me from having a stroke or brain damage because she allowed me to contract life-threatening illnesses. OR Guarding Angels don’t exist and I’m just a long-haired hippy that still hasn’t figured out what I want to be when I grow up. OR maybe she is real and sees the big picture and needed to allow me to go through a living hell so I start fighting for the pound of sugar that was stolen from me and never received? If you’ve been reading this story (my blog) from the beginning, you can be the judge.
The summer of 2020 changed my life. Or maybe I’m just finally seeing people for who they really are. There are some not so nice people in this world. But Doctor Johnson of St. Agnes last May wasn’t one of them. I’m not 100% pleased with everything he did this summer, but he may have saved my live. That I’m very thankful for. To be honest with you, I don’t know how many times I was in the operating room at the St. Agnes hospital this summer (3 times? Possibly 4?), but I do know I was in pretty bad shape. I really didn’t start feeling like a human being for probably 2 weeks of IV antibiotics. Or was it 10 days when they loaded me into an ambulance and shipped me off to Milwaukee?
Dr. Johnson came in my intensive care room one morning and told me I was stable enough to be sent to the bigger, teaching hospital in Milwaukee (Froedtert Hospital). A few hours later I’m in the back of an ambulance heading South to Milwaukee. Of course, I don’t remember the paramedic’s name, but he was an interesting guy. He talked most of the trip. He was in the Army until he fell down a very steep hill and was hurt pretty seriously. That’s how he described it. The lady driving was very nice as well, but the ride was rough as hell.
I had two male doctors at Froedtert. I’d say they were in their late 30’s. They listen to me for the most part. Now because the wound area doctor Johnson had to cut up pretty bad to insert tubes for drainage, my bladder was spasming nearly nonstop and the IV medication they had me on was causing constant diarrhea. I guess I was starting to feel better because I told the doctors I wanted to change things. This time the doctors didn’t listen. I tried a 2nd time and they didn’t care. The 3rd time I told one of the doctors I was going to start using four letter words if they didn’t start listening to me. I didn’t talk like the nice happy go lucky guy I had been. I was pissed and I let them know it. Two days later I was on the medication I asked for.
I don’t like being that person. I don’t like being mean, angry or forceful. I like being nice and polite. I love thanking everyone that helps me. I thank nearly everyone if not everyone that does anything for me. When they make the movie of my life, the actor that plays me needs to follow me around for a few weeks to see how I love being nice to everyone.
Speaking of being nice, the food at both Froedtert and St. Agnes was very good. Both places had menus. I’d order the food when I was hungry and 30 minutes later it arrived in my room. I can’t tell you how many times I sent my complements to the kitchen. The cheese cake was as good as you could get in a restaurant.
Let’s see, what else do I want to say about my hospital stay during the summer of 2020 I’d love to forget? For the most part, the doctors, nurses, aids and staff were good people. I was in bad shape and they did the right things to help me heal. I was on IV antibiotics the entire time. The bladder and muscle spasms were off the charts, but again, I was near death when I went to the emergency room with a bladder stone that could fill the Grand Canyon and enough evil poison in my body to kill a small horse. If my hospitalization would have ended there (only 2 months of hospitalization), I probably wouldn’t be writing 2/3rd of the story. But there’s two more months that was a living hell that needs to be told. The only blemish I’d put against my stay at the two hospitals at this point is they wouldn’t change my catheter when I asked.
The doctors had to slice and dice part of my body to drain all the poison out. Again, to save my life, they basically created a pretty serious wound that needed to heal before I could go back to being homeless and live in my van. That required nursing personal to change the dressing every day. There was no way I could have changed the dressing safely myself in the back of a van. So off to a nursing home I went. A nursing for me was a living hell. I will hate any one that even remotely thinks I should live in a nursing home or assisted living home. It was that bad! Calling it a living hell is being kind. I had two roommates while in the nursing home and they both feel the same way as I do.
My nursing home stay started off with two weeks in quarantine. It was like going to a different planet. For anyone to enter my room, they had to put on what basically looked like a hazmat suit. Like my stay at the previous two hospitals the two months earlier, I had a room to myself. For those of you reading this – years from now, the year 2020 is one of the most challenging times since WWII? There is a world-wide pandemic happening. People are becoming infected from a terrible virus called Covid-19 or the Coronavirus. The smart people wear a mask when ever they are in public. Sad to say, too many don’t. It’s a very contagious virus that can be spread through the air by people breathing too close to someone that has it. Or touching a surface area that someone with the virus touched. The virus kills people, but too many people are not afraid of it, yet, so it’s going to be here for a long time to come.
My theory on slowing down the virus problem, it’s this simple. You have to show, teach direct the people of this entire world to become angry at the coronavirus. A virus is a submicroscopic infectious agent that replicates ONLY inside the living cells of an organism. For the coronavirus, the organism is you and me. If it doesn’t have you or me to live in, it dies within a few days. The first thing the media needs to do is educate the good people of the world this simple unknown fact. The media should be banging the door down with the message that viruses do not have brains. Don’t let a brainless submicroscopic infectious agent be smarter than you! First of all, don’t let a brainless submicroscopic infectious agent inside your body. Make every feel ashamed or angry at themselves if they catch the virus. There should be TV adds, radio adds, billboards, bumper stickers and most importantly, word of month that if you catch the brainless submicroscopic infectious agent, then a brainless virus is smarter than you.
The next thing to do is to educate everyone the virus can not enter your body if you don’t let it. Wear a mask and keep a distance. Let everyone know that the virus needs an opening to enter the body. That unless they are running around naked, a mask is very effective at keeping the virus out of your body. Can you imagine a TV commercial with a beach full of nude people wearing only masks? Inform the world that if the entire world wears a mask from the moment, they leave their house or automobile until the time they return to them, the brainless submicroscopic infectious agent cannot enter your body.
Finally, get the world so angry at the virus that they want to kill it every chance they can. And the best way to kill it? Wash your hands! Every store, every business, every entrance to every classroom, everyone’s automobile and the entrance to everyone’s house should have a large bottle of gem killing hand wash. Every one of these places should have a sign or bumper sticker saying, please be smarter than a brainless submicroscopic infectious virus – wash your hands before entering! Kill the fucking little bastards! You may not want to use those exact words, but I hope you get my point.
Again, its simple, get the good people of this world angry at themselves for letting the brainless virus controlling and ruining their lives. If the coronavirus had a brain, it would be laughing at us right now.
Back to my living hell story! I don’t like being negative, but it is what it is and it needs to be told. I was having terrible bladder and muscle spasms, so I asked Dr. Pansy the first time we met to change my catheter. The doctor cared more about a paycheck and the nursing home cared more about saving money then the patients. Doctor Pansy only came to the nursing home on Mondays. On Tuesdays he went to a different nursing home, on Wednesdays he went to a different nursing home, on Thursdays he went to a different nursing home and on Fridays he went to a different nursing home. A month later of doctor Pansy’s negligence the catheter finally fell out on its own. But not before I finally gave him a double barrel piece of my mind. The spasms were so bad I lost 10 pounds. I was getting 2 hours of sleep per night and an hour nap during the day. It was physically and mentally exhausting. The lecture I gave Dr. Pansy was loud and long. I’d say a good 15 to 20 minutes. And every time Dr. Pansy tried to interrupt me by saying, you’re not listening to me. I’d yell back, No! You’re not listening to me! And loud? Although the door was closed, the CNAs (certified nursing assistants) and therapists in the hallway heard my speech. As a matter of fact, two of the therapists came into the room just after Dr. Pansy left and applauded me. But again, it didn’t matter to the nursing home. My rant to the doctor was on Monday and on Friday the catheter finally fell out. Soon I was in the back of an ambulance and off to an emergency room. The nursing home had told the driver to bring me to a hospital they were associated with, but I explained the problem to the EMS people. They agreed with me that St. Agnes was the proper hospital to go too.
The ambulance didn’t even move an inch and my temperature spiked up again. The EMS guy didn’t ignore it. And thank God he didn’t. The good people at St. Agnes were able to save the hole with a smaller catheter been there, done that plus they did a urine culture and found e-coli in my bladder. How it got there or when? I didn’t even ask. That Friday in August, was it August? I don’t even care what month it was or the number of the day. It was a Friday sometime during the summer of 2020 that I … changed! I’m now angry with the O’Dovero family that cares so little about my health and safety and HAPPINESS! In my view, it’s just another domino to fall on my way to dying.
What scares the shit out of me is – How many dominos are there left to fall in my life? I’m scared I don’t have that many dominos left to fall if I continue down this path of homelessness!
When do I start hating them for leaving me homeless to die in the back of a van?
Do I already hate them?
I hate this feeling that I could possibly hate them. That I’ll never forgive the O’Dovero family for allowing it to happen. For discriminating against me financially so I’m now feeling the terrible, horrible emotion of hatred.
I don’t feel like writing anymore about this.
Have I ever told you the meaning behind the phrase, a pound of sugar? I remember it like it was yesterday. We were at Craig, the rehab hospital in Denver Colorado (technically Englewood Colorado, Dr. Hahn, his nurse and I). God, I wish I remembered her name. Like many women who worked for great men, she was as smart as the doc and in many ways, smarter. They were about to enter the elevator on the 2nd floor when she responded to my question to the doctor. A few days earlier I had asked for a 2nd (spare wheelchair). The insurance company had originally declined it but she changed their minds and seen to it that it was approved. As one of the smartest women (human being) I ever met explained to me, Jerry, I asked the insurance representative if she owned more than one pair of shoes! Your 2nd wheelchair has been approved. She could see that I understood she won the argument of me needing a 2nd wheelchair without even arguing. To me that was amazing, she showed how to win an argument with an intelligent person without arguing by just stating to obvious. I guess the key phrase there is with an intelligent person. I didn’t get on the elevator with them, but she could see I was still confused about something. Maybe I held the elevator door from closing, I’m not sure who did, but without blinking, one of the smartest people I’ve ever meet said, Jerry, if you went to the grocery store and bought a pound of sugar, and you paid for a pound of sugar, but when you got home, you found out it was only ½ a pound of sugar, would you feel cheated? Yes, of course! Jerry, when you bought that insurance policy, you bought a pound’s worth of insurance. Don’t let anyone tell you it was anything less!
It’s been a week since I put this story on hold. I better start telling you more of these unfortunate chapters of my life. I don’t want to run out of dominos.
I found an old external hard drive I had in storage. (I’m listening to the band, America) Before I left Marquette a few weeks ago I went into my brother Jim’s garage. He’s been nice enough to allow me to store some crap there. Let’s call him, the Lone Ranger! He told me he read this blog once. He said he didn’t agree with it, so he’ll never read it again. I hope when Medusa reads it and tells him I’m writing again, he doesn’t throw everything I own in a dumpster. Medusa told me in front of 6 brothers and a sister that if I mention her name again in this blog that I’ll be hearing from her Lawyer. Two years ago, when we were in the courthouse, she told me that my writing about her didn’t bother her because she had thick skin. The Queen, the Lone Ranger and Smokin Joe were there as well to hear her say it. I guess her skin isn’t that thick after all. A few minutes after Medusa told me she had thick skin, Queen Cleopatra asked me if I was being mean derogatory when I was calling her Queen Cleopatra? I said, no mom, like I told the judge (when I was on the witness stand), Cleopatra slept with both Caesar and Mark Antony. Any woman that can sleep with two Roman Leaders has to be an impressive woman. (I’m pretty sure that’s word for word what I said on the witness stand)
Should I play Bob Segar or Black Sabbath next? I think I’ll make you wait until the movie of my life comes out. I have to keep a few secretes from you!
Back to the nursing home from hell story. I really don’t feel like talking about it, so I’m going to give you an overview. Most of the staff were good people. The place was understaffed. My guess is the new procedures because of the coronavirus has added to the reason they were understaffed, but my guess, and its only a guess, all nursing home except the high-priced private ones are understaffed. With that said, most of the staff worked hard and did their best. My reason it was hell were the rules, regulations, doctor Pansy and nurse Jim.
They would not give me the medication I needed when I needed it, nor would they listen to me when I’d tell them their rules were causing me serious health issues. Another way they failed me and my stay a living hell was they wouldn’t write me a prescription for catheters. I didn’t have any catheters to leave the nursing home with nor would they write a prescription for them. A catheter is a piece of rubber tubing. I wasn’t asking for heroin or the pain killers’ people are selling on the black market.
I thought I could write more, but I don’t want too. That four-month ordeal was the 5th time I had been to the emergency room since I’ve been homeless and the 3rd time I was knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door. The way the doctors made it sound, I was bang, bang, banging on heaven’s door. I think I’ll pay that song!
The first time I went to the emergency room since I became homeless was in November 2018. The Lone Ranger had called me up two weeks after I first became homeless and asked if I wanted a free ticket to Marquette and a free hotel room. I was excited. Maybe things weren’t so bleak after all. All I had to do was go to Redacted and tell the truth. I can do that. I don’t tell lies, because I’m not smart enough to remember them.
The morning of the flight to Marquette I slept in front of my buddy Steve’s house. Somehow our wires got crossed. Steve thought the flight was at 1:15pm and it was really at 10:30am. I didn’t make that flight. I rescheduled it for the next day on the airline’s website, but somehow it didn’t work. I’ll take the blame on that one. So, I contacted Smokin Joe and he booked the flight. By now the stress had my body all screwed up. I ended up sleeping from 4am to 8am on the floor. You’ll have to wait for the movie to see the circumstance that lead to my wonderful night where I didn’t really didn’t sleep a wink.
Steve is now driving my van toward the airport when I brought up the question of my driver’s license. I didn’t have a valid driver license card. I think I’ve only lost my wallet 3 or 4 times in my life and 2 of them have been since I’ve been homeless. A month earlier I had time to get a replacement card when I knew I was going to fly to Marquette, so no problem. Steve do you have my driver’s license? No, I gave it to you! Aww, no Steve. We were only 6 blocks from his house, so problem yet! A few minutes Steve came out of his house and said he couldn’t find it.
I have an expired driver’s license card. I can wing it. I’ll just talk a lot and they’ll never notice. I’m not worried – much. You know how now a days the airports want you there 2 hours early so they can check every inch of your body and your suitcases? Well, we weren’t there 2 hours early. We weren’t there an hour early. We (I) rolled up to the counter maybe 20 to 30 minutes before the scheduled takeoff time. I hadn’t flown in 15 years or longer, so I just started talking 100 miles an hour about that, and this and anything or everything. And of course, I asked the pretty young 25-year-old lady behind the counter dozens of questions. Before I knew it, I had a boarding pass.
What almost made me miss my flight was a black handled Philips tipped screwdriver. I use one to lock my right front caster from turning when I transfer on or off my wheelchair. I didn’t notice it until they were wiping my shoes, pants and wheelchair down with special wipes to see if I had trace explosives on me. I didn’t, of course, just a screwdriver that I was sure was going to get me a fast trip to a little room for a day or two. So, I’m back talking 100 miles an hour only this time I’m not quit so sure I can pull it off. The 50-year-old gentleman takes the black handled Philips tipped screwdriver from me and walks away. I don’t wear a watch, but I’m a decent judge of time. I’m sure the pilot had started the plane’s two engines already, was reaching for the gear shift and was checking his watch. I was running a fever before I arrived at the airport. Now I’m feeling a little sick to my stomach as well. What’s that old saying? May you live in interesting times? I maybe homeless, but my live is anything but boring. It felt like days, but it was probably only 5 minutes when the nice security gentleman walked back to me and handed me back my black handled Philips head screwdriver. Holy crap! You can keep it! I don’t need it! Then I realized, shut up Jer and get on the plane! Someone from the airport pushed me from security to the plane and there weren’t any stops at the bars for preflight cocktails and I didn’t ask either. I made the flight with a few minutes to spare.
It took three planes to get me to Marquette. I was so cold and miserable the entire plane ride(s). I’m not a coffee drinker and I didn’t like the tea they offered, so I simply drank those little shot glass size cups filled with hot water. They didn’t warm me up, by the time I landed in Marquette I had at least 4 blankets wrapped around me and my teeth were still chattering.
As not to piss off too many members of the family, I’m going to skip forward a week. I’m still not feeling well and I’m not getting better. I talked it over with the Lone Ranger and we decided I should go to the emergency room. When I lived in Marquette prior to moving to California, I had an Ishperming doctor. Now I’m not stupid, I didn’t expect to find my long-lost doctor from 25 years ago waiting for me at the Ishperming emergency room, but I went there anyway rather than the emergency room In Marquette. The wait time at the Ishperming emergency room was zero minutes. The time spent at the Ishperming emergency room before being sent to the Marquette hospital, about an hour. Technology it was about three hours, but two of the three hours were so the Marquette hospital could find me a bed.
About two weeks prior to flying to Marquette I had finally found a new doctor in California that would listen to me. The wait time to get an appointment? 2 to 3 months. But I finally found a good doctor. Of course, I can not think of her name, but she was the first doctor at the prestigious Stanford hospital that listen to me in four years. The three prior to that told me I was tired because I was getting old. This smart and intelligent lady ran a simple blood test. 24 hours later she called me and told me My blood was anemic and I was bleeding and loosing way too much blood somewhere in my intestinal track.
The good doctor and I had made appointments for a few different types of x-rays. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to happen until after I arrived in Marquette. I’d been living with the condition, although 20-20 hind site living in an apartment for four years, so it didn’t register in my dumb ass brain that it could be a life threating situation. Plus, I was so excited to be going to Marquette, hoping I wasn’t going to be homeless anymore that I boarded the plane to Marquette not in the best of shape.
Now I was smart enough to tell the good doctor at the Ishperming emergency room about my anemic blood, that I was scheduled for x-rays and that I didn’t have a chance to get to them yet. In one hour, or less, and the good doctor confirmed I had a serious blood loss problem and it had become much, much worse. My iron level, she called it hemoglobin, had dropped to 7.5. She also informed me that if it drops below 6, I’m banging on heaven’s door. I went to the Marquette hospital two hours later and they gave me two pints of A+ blood right away. My hemoglobin had dropped to 6.5 in the two hours I waited to get to Marquette. The next morning the good doctors, and I mean good doctors, took x-rays but couldn’t find the source of the bleeding.
Its 11pm and I really want to quit writing about this subject, so I’m going to end this hospital stay here. Being homeless for two years has taken its toll on me mentally, physically and health wise.
I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve told you this story.
Good morning good people. I think I had about four hours of sleep. I’ve been taking iron pills for the past couple of years, so its kind of normal. (4 to 6 hours is about normal) Without the iron pills, or Marquette County well water, I’d sleep 14 to 16 hours a night.
I just received a text from the Lone Ranger. He informed me that the two sides of the O’Dovero family (the Peter E. O’Dovero side and the Lois A. O’Dovero side) can not agree on helping me financially, so I guess I’m going to continue to go homeless for a 3rd straight winter.
….. I’m sitting here for an hour now wondering what to say?
Oh crap! Let’s see. I told you about the 3th time I nearly died since I’ve been homeless and then the 1st time, I guess I should tell you about the 2nd time. I don’t have the energy or the desire to talk about it, so I’ll give you the cliff notes. Do you know my entire time in school or college I never use cliff notes!
Two years ago, the O’Dovero family flew me to Marquette to help because there was a riff, the size of the Pacific Ocean, between the two sides of the family. Two weeks after I was out of the hospital, they put me on a plane, sicker than a dog and sent me back to California to live in my van for the winter. That hurt me more than you’ll ever know. A few weeks later my friends found me in Walmart parking lot near death dying in my van. I told them I was OK, but they knew I wasn’t. The next morning, I moved to a Safeway parking lot. While talking with Jackie and Steve on the phone they could hear it in my voice that I was in worst shape then the day before. They didn’t even try driving me the couple of miles to the emergency room, they just called an ambulance to come find me and bring me to a hospital. I was running a 100.7-degree fever with infections in bladder, kidneys, lymph nodes and blood. I was hospitalized on IV antibiotics for weeks and then oral antibiotics for weeks after that. I was yelled at for not coming in sooner. They told me I was days away from possible organ failure. Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door, again.
I don’t feel like writing about it anymore. My next stories are going to be about the $1,000,000 auto insurance policy I bought on my 1979 Black Ford F-100 Pickup truck, the $700,000 check I received from the Wausau Insurance Company months later when I was 17 years old and suffered a serious automobile accident and what happened to the $700,000 check. Spoiler alert! I signed my name on the back of the $700,000 check 40+ years ago and that’s the last I seen of it or the money!
Do you know what the saddest things about some of the members of the O’Dovero family are? Some of them like to throw it in my face that I’m not intitled to receive any money from them. Who am I to demand money from them?
I’m not demanding nor do I feel entitled to anything. I’m simply asking them to do the right thing. If they don’t want to do the right thing, at least make up for the sins of the past, so I can get a nice, safe place to live. I just want to be happy! I want to start writing nice stories again.
Or, the O’Dovero family, especially my mom and dad, can continue to leave me homeless to die. To me, it’s that simple!
You can call me crazy, but I don’t want to die!
Since there are members of the O’Dovero family that do not feel they’ve done anything wrong, they shouldn’t be angry with me for telling the truth about the Good, the Bad and the Ugly events in my life on this blog or else ware.
One last thing, if you don’t feel some, or all of what I have to say pertains to you, then it probably doesn’t.
Jerry O’Dovero (quadriplegic disabled)
It was around noon on September 15, 2018 when the door bell rang at my apartment in San Jose California. I hadn’t been feeling well. When I’m stressed out the bugs in my bladder start acting up. I use a catheter so I have those little bastards living there 24/7. To stay as healthy as I can, I drink a lot of water and try to keep the stress levels down. The high volume of water makes it more challenging for those little bastards to live. If I were to drink four cans of an adult beverage along with the large amounts of water, I’d never have a bladder problem. But I don’t like drinking alone, so so much for that. As for the stress, my head can handle the stress, It’s my body that has the problem. I broke my neck and spinal cord, so my brain isn’t connected to the rest of my body. I’m not a doctor and I don’t play one on TV, so I don’t know how my body knows when my life is stressful, but it does. Who was at the door? Two of San Jose’s finest and they gave me 10 minutes to collect what I could and told me to get to hell out. They didn’t use that language. But the tone in their voices and the looks on their faces said it for them.
Ten minutes didn’t give me enough time to collect my bed, dressers, bookcase, antique jute box, etc, etc, etc. I guess it would be fair to say that as of right now I do not have very much to my name. How did I to such a low point in my life? First of all, it wasn’t that hard. It happens a lot faster and a lot easier then you could ever imagine. Living in my van for the past year and a half, I’ve ran across others like me. They lost their jobs, health care bills piled up, savings disappeared, credit cards maxed out and they’re homeless. For me, I didn’t loose my job. My health wasn’t what it was, so I quit, But otherwise it’s about how it happened for me as well. I’m not sure when it all started, my best guess is it started about 5 or 6 years ago. I didn’t know what was wrong. I wasn’t close to feeling well and I was so tired all the time. It took 4 years when finally the third or forth doctor discovered I was anemic with a simple blood test. All the previous Stanford doctors told me it was normal for me to be tired. No matter how many times I tried to tell them something was wrong, they didn’t listen, they didn’t believe me, they didn’t care. You could never believe how relieved I was to learn I had a serious health problem. That doesn’t sound right. You could never believe how relieved I felt when a doctor finally discovered I had real health issues and it wasn’t just in my head. But the damage was done, I had lost everything. I became homeless.
Then during that time my doctor bills were increasing, because the Nationwide Insurance company quit paying for my doctor bills, prescriptions and medical supplies. You’ve seen their TV commercials with the slogan, ”Nationwide is on your side.” Well, they weren’t on my side.
I did finally sign up for Social Security. But that was a drop in the bucket compared to bills.
For most of my life when I thought of the homeless, the image was that of an elderly man living in a cardboard box in some dirty ally somewhere. Becoming homeless is not what I had in my mind when my 1st grade teacher when she asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up? So where did I go so horrible wrong?
I have no idea who’s going to play the teenage version of me when they make the movie of my life, but that younger me made the smartest decision of my life. When I was 16 years old I bought a brand new black Ford F100 pickup truck. The smartest decision I made those 42 years ago wasn’t the purchase of the truck, it was the insurance policy I bought on the truck. Most people buy a $100,000/$300,000 liability policy. I bought a $250,000/$500,000 liability policy with a rider to knock it up to $1,000,000. It was the largest policy with the most coverage anyone could buy. After the accident, I was told that insurance policy was going to pay my medical bills for the rest of my life. The insurance company (policy) also gave me a check for $700,000 soon after the accident. What happened to the $700,000 check I received from the insurance company 40 years ago? I’ve been homeless for a year and a half now, so I guess it’s time to tell you the shame I’ve been living with for 40 years. The money was stolen from me and my shame is I never fought for it. I always thought that if I lived with the shame alone my mother and family would be there for me and make it up to me.
I’m the dumbest man on earth for thinking that.
I’m tired of being screwed over. And I’m really tired of being homeless. I’m putting my mother, the O’Dovero family and the Nationwide Insurance company on notice. I’m going to fight for my pound of sugar.
The working title of my book is The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.
I don’t read my blogs after I publish them. Add to that, I’ve written 15 or so blogs that I never published. I don’t remember what I published, wrote and didn’t publish or thought about writing but haven’t written yet, so if I start writing stories a second time – don’t sue me. When I feel happy, I write happy stories. I know I haven’t written very many happy stories lately. When Medusa broke my heart last January and no one in the family stood up for me I became seriously depressed. For the first time in my life I thought about suicide. I have the place picked out. I don’t have the how or the when. I know in my head that if I come up with a how, the when would follow very soon afterward.
I need to start fighting for the money that’s owed to me like my life depends on it, because for the first time in my life, it just might.
Since I wrote this, someone from the O’Dovero family and the Nationwide Insurance Company have been in touch with me. I decided to publish this blog anyway. They need to know how betrayed I feel, how broken I am and the need for me to start writing again. If they leave me feeling broken and betrayed, that’s what I’ll write about.
I’d much rather write happy stories again. I guess time will tell. Stay tuned.
It’s weird but this is the best I’ve felt in weeks. I think I’ll write a letter to each of the two parties mentioned. I’m tired! Think I’ll go to bed now!
Jerry O’Dovero (quadriplegic, disabled)
The other day I watched the movie, Enemy of the State. It stars; Gene Hackman, Will Smith and Lisa Bonet. It’s one of those very few movies I can, and do, watch over and over again. Two other movies I can watch at the drop of a hat are Casablanca and My Cousin Vinny. Two classics. The movie Enemy of the State is action packed, well just the right amount. Too much action ruins a movie. I find it happens a lot with sequels. I feel a good movie tells enough about the main characters to make them likable and hateable. Another thing I like about the Enemy of the State movie, besides the underlining message, is it moves along nicely. You don’t get bored watching it or is the movie predictable.
Now, I’m not going to ruin the movie by telling you about it, so I’m going to tell you what the underlining meaning of the term, Enemy of the State, and who uses it? Governments and Law enforcements have been making people and groups of people Enemies of the State for as long as there has been Governments and Law enforcement. Corporations and big business also routinely use the Enemy of the State tactics to discredit individuals as well as groups of people, so they can make their millions. But it doesn’t stop there, misguided people I’m being nice in small towns and even families can and do use the Enemy of the State tactics to discredit some to further their agendas, whether it’s for money, power or – sometimes they’re just assholes.
The first thing to make someone the Enemy of the State is to discredit the person(s) so no believes them or believes in them. They just want you to see them as evil. It’s easier to justify turning your back on someone if you don’t like them or have respect for them. If you’re the government or Law enforcement make them a criminal or even a wanted criminal. The easiest way to do that is to make up lies about them and/or take negative aspects of their past and blow it way out of proportion. If you hear lies often enough, the lies become the truth. f you’re the not so nice I heard little Jonny used to steal money from his grandmother. He’d visit her every Wednesday then every weekend he’d have a pocket full of money. Where did the money come from if he wasn’t stealing it from his grandmother? I met her and she was such a nice lady. Now little Johnny has a new bike. Where did the money come from to get the bike? I bet he stole the money from his grandmother to get the bike. I used to have a Bobby Orr hockey card, but not anymore. I bet little Johnny stole it.
Would you invite little Johnny into your house an leave him alone for long periods of time? Once you have the person(s) disrespected, unwanted or unloved, then you take away their money. It’s hard to defend yourself, fight for yourself, believe in yourself or hire someone to help you if you don’t have money. Typically, the not so nice people are rich and powerful. It’s hard to fight the rich and powerful when you have nothing, no one is willing to help or you can’t afford to hire someone to help.
The final step is just that, the final step – put an end to the Enemy of the State person(s). For Governments and Law enforcement, it’s jail, prison or something more permanent. For the not so nice people, who knows what it will take before they stop? The minimum is to break their spirit and possibly the will to live.
If you haven’t seen the movie, Enemy of the State, watch it. You won’t be disappointed.