A Good Man Says He’s Sorry, A Great Man Makes Amends For His Past Sins

Jerry O’Dovero,

When I was young, I idolized my father. He was my hero. I wanted to be just like him when I was older. That seems like a life time ago. Now a days, I rarely think about him, and I’d never want to be like him. Not anymore. It’s no fun when you peal back the layers of the onion and see its ugly and rotten. My birthday was last April. My father didn’t call. My mother didn’t call me either. I don’t know why I though they would. For the 20 years I’ve lived in California, my father has never called. He’s never wished me a single happy birthday since I moved from Marquette, He’s never wished me a Merry Christmas either. Do you think my father hates me? What could I have possibly done to him that’s so terrible that he would turn his back on me. Why would he disown me?

Its time to start writing again. I’ve been afraid too long. I’ve been afraid to tell you about what my father did. How he betrayed me. Talking about the fun stuff in my life is easy. But I didn’t want to talk about the not so happy times Then one day I woke up feeling like I’ve been lying to you. I was lost. How do you tell the world your family stole your disability money? Everyone has a story that they’re afraid to tell. Mine, I don’t want to tell God and the world that my father isn’t the father you think he is. He isn’t the father I idolized when I was young. You see he stole every penny of my $700,000 of disability money and he never gave it back. I’m done lying. I’m done lying to you and I’m done lying to myself. But I’ll make a deal with my family right now. If they can produce a single document showing my father making a single investment with my disability money for me I’ll delete this entry and I’ll never say a bad word about him or any family member ever. I promise I’ll delete every bad word I’ve ever said about anyone in the family and I promise to never ever say a bad word about anyone in the family ever.

Are you still reading this? I guess everything I have to say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. I’m pretty sure if my father invested my disability money for me there would some kind of a paper trail. You would think so? Right? I was so hoping my father would call me this time on my birthday. I was so hoping he’d tell me he was sorry and that he was going to make it up to me. My birthday is April 17th. I finally decided that if my father didn’t call me this year on my birthday that I was done being afraid. Its time to tell my story. Not just the the good, but the good, the bad and the ugly. Should that be the title of my book? Naw! If you are old enough to remember, that’s the title of a Clint Eastwood movie. It was one of three spaghetti westerns he was in. The movie was filmed in Italy back in the 60s. They were probably some of Clint Eastwood’s first movies. He played the classic Clint Eastwood. He was the quiet man that didn’t say much. Clint let his guns and his fists do his talking. So no, I can not use that title. It would be a disservice to him.

Are you still reading this? I don’t know how much longer I can ramble on while we wait for my family to produce a document, any document showing my father made investments for me. Its hard to tell you my family cares more about my money and keeping it than they do about me. But its time to get get started. I’ve given them 36 years to say they’re sorry and to make it up to me. Again, should those documents be hard to find because they’re boxed up and stored in an dusty attic or some damp basement or storage bay that has been long forgot about and no one has a key to, I’ll still delete this and any future stories and any and everyone in the family that aren’t completely positive, uplifting and happy.

The hardest part of writing about my father stealing all of my disability money then disowning me is convincing you that it really happened. You’re not going to want to believe it. I don’t want to believe it. Why and how could he have done it. So before I go any further, I want you to known I have no one to blame but myself. I let it happen. I made every mistake possible. I was stupid. I never fought my father for it. I kept lying to myself by thinking he or someday my brothers and sisters would make it up to me. I was the dumbest guy on earth. I lived in a world of denial. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. Denial is so much easier than facing the truth. I was the king of denial. But now I’m done. I finally decided that if I didn’t hear from my father by my birthday, that I was never going to. Its time to start writing again. I’m sure you’ve missed me! You know my good looks, charm and personality. My thoughtful little tidbits about history and weird facts. Don’t laugh. I like history. And those dumb little facts are bouncing around in my head all the time. You’re just lucky you’re not me. My mind bounces from thought to thought all day long.

Speaking of useless crape bouncing around in my head just trying to get out, you’ve heard that nursery rhyme about Humphrey Dumpty? What do you think its about? An egg? A person? An egg?

The answer would be none of those. Its about a cannon. Humphrey Dumpty was the name of a cannon. You know the big metal things that go boom, smoke everywhere and a large metal ball smashes into something. The year was 1648? give or take a few. England was in the middle of a civil war. Quick question. When wasn’t England in the middle of a civil war? Well, half the country didn’t like the king. I think it was King Charles I. Have you ever wonder why kingdoms, monarchies or presidencies that hand the leadership down to their oldest son(s) don’t last for more than a few generations? They always start with a brilliant leader/warrior. A man that can organize armies and kick butt with them. Then he dies and the son and than his son if it last that long gets his head cut off by the new brilliant leader/warrior. My theory is that sooner or later the oldest male son is just a dumb ass. The only reason he’s the leader is because he happens to be the oldest son. An example, and I’m not in any way calling him a dumb ass, but from the very and I mean very little I know about him, and its all from late night comedy TV, is the current leader of North Korea. Again, I know very little about him, but something tells me mmmm – well, I just don’t see him the leader of North Korea if his father wasn’t the leader before him. But I’ve been wrong before. Anyway, back to 17th century England. The Royalist didn’t like the king, so they were attacking the castles loyal to the king. On the top of one of the castle towers was a huge cannon and for some reason it was named Humphrey Dumpty. The royalist used their cannons (names unknown) to fire on the tower. It didn’t take too long before they knocked the tower and the cannon (Humphrey Dumpty) down.

Humphrey Dumpty sat on a wall

Humphrey Dumpty had a great fall

All the kings horses and

all the kings men

couldn’t put Humphrey back together again

The nursery rhyme makes a little more sense with a little back story. And the king, Charles I? They cut his head off, of course.

OK back to my life. I’m not going to tell this chapter of my life to make my father look bad. Truth be told, if you steal your disabled child’s disability money, make $10,000,000 while you leave your disabled child living on social security, you’ve made yourself look bad. I wish I could just call my father and resolve this. I wish I could call him and ask why? Why did he do it? Why doesn’t he care about me? Why won’t he even talk to me?

The last time he’s taken a call from me was on May 4th 1997. People that know me are laughing right now. How could I remember the exact day? And they have good reason to laugh. I don’t even know what today’s date is. I know it’s a Wednesday, and its September. But the number, I don’t have a clue. But I know for a fact it was May 4th 1997 the last time my father took a phone call from me. I moved into California on September 15th 1995, give or take a few days. I moved here by myself and I didn’t know anyone that lived in California. To meet people, I’d go to a sports bar and watch the Detroit Red wings hockey games. Over time I met several Michigan transplants like me. Soon we were meeting up for the games on a regular basis. I’ll talk more about that another time, but on May 4, 1997 I called my father. In less than a minute he hung up on me. My sister Connie was working for him at the time. She told me that he instructed his office staff to never take a phone call from me ever again. And he never has. I’ve tried calling him a dozen times since then. Not only won’t he take my calls, but when I’m in Marquette he won’t see me.

OK, I’ll tell the May 4, 1997 story. After I called my father for what turned out to be the last time, I took the light rail shuttle downtown to watch the Detroit Redwings play the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in the second round of the 1997 NHL playoffs. I was the first to arrive at the sports bar (San Jose Live). I liked going early so I could have a nice meal before drinking with my friends. Jack and his brother Matt showed up just before the puck drop. Right away Jack asked me what was wrong. I told him I just had the worst day of my life. After some pressing, I broke down and told them I called my father a prick when he tried telling me how he has been a great father to me. Matt looked at me with disbelief. He finally stops me and says the day of my accident would had to be the worst day of my life! Matt was just dumbfounded. Not me! Being betrayed by my father hurts a lot more than needing a wheelchair.

My new friends had never seen me being anything but happy. When I’m not feeling happy, I tend to stay home. I don’t want the world to see me sad. So my friends bought me a beer to get me smiling and back to the happy go lucky guy they normally see. When that wasn’t working fast enough, they bought me a shot. Then another and another. It was hard pretending I wasn’t hurting inside, but Kelly showed up. Kelly was a 5’5” or so 110 pounds, brown shoulder length hair and a smile that made me feel happy. Oh, she was a Colorado Avalanche fan. The hockey games between the Detroit Redwings and the Colorado Avalanche games back then were the NHL’s version of Slap Shot. During the 1995-1996 season Detroit had the best regular season record ever in the NHL. They had 62 wins, only 13 losses and 7 ties. Back then the NHL had only a one 5 minute (5 on 5) overtime. If no one scored, the game was called a tie. That year Detroit was unstoppable during the regular season. Detroit breezed through the Western Conference Quarter finals against the Winnipeg Jets pretty easily. The Western Conference Semifinals went 7 games. The game was tied 0-0 and into the 2nd overtime when Wayne Gretzky fumbled a pass. The Captain, No. 19 Steve Yzerman crossed the red line with the puck,then as he crossed the blue line wound up and slapped the puck. The hard rising shot went over the shoulder of the St. Louis Blues goalie. The rising puck went just over the shoulder, but under the cross bar for the goal and the win. The Western Conference finals was against the New Colorado team. The team wasn’t new. The year(s) before the team was located in Quebec Canada. That year the team moved to Denver Colorado. The mighty record setting Detroit Redwings lost in 6 games to the Colorado Avalanche. It was heart breaking for us Redwing fans. During the final game (6) Colorado’s Claude Lemieux checked Detroit’s Kris Drapper face first into the boards. Detroit’s player needed several hours of surgery to repair the broken bones in his face. Colorado went on to win the Stanley cup that year. That was all it took to start the best rivalry the NHL had in years. The next year, the next several years the 4 hockey games between Detroit and Colorado were some of the most intense fought games of the modern era. And when I say fought, there were 6 guys on one team fighting 6 guys on the other. Yes even the goalies were fighting. It was like that for years. Detroit won the Stanley cup in 1997 and again in 1998. Colorado won again in 2001 and Detroit won in 2002. You can you tube the Redwings v Avalanche and a dozen or more links will pop up.

Anyway, even though Kelly often showed up to the sports bar (San Jose Live) wearing the enmities jersey, she always sat with us. If I remember right, Kelly often showed up on days when just the Redwings played. Her boyfriend she was dating was an idiot. Looking back on it, I don’t think they were really dating. I’m betting she called it dating to keep men from hitting on her. Some couples just look perfect for each other, when they look at each other you can see it in their eyes, their faces and their body language that they love each other and are meant to be together. Then there are other couples that make oil and water a better match for each other. You can only hope the makeup sex is worth the hell they put each other through on a daily basis. Looking back on my life, I should have asked more women out. All my life I’ve been my own worst enmity. Its a good thing my brain is hard wired to see the glass, not only half full, but ¾ full. I see the world as mostly good. I think people are mostly good. Some do some dumb or bad things, but I think most are good underneath. Me, I don’t like feeling sad or angry. It just don’t sound like fun. So I don’t do it. And the very few times I do, I tend to stay home. I stay home and figure out what the problem is and correct it. One time it required moving 2000 miles away from my family and friends by myself to find happiness again. Maybe some people that wake up one day to find out they lost something, the use of their legs or eyes, the loss of their sole mate or to make a long story short (like that’s possible for me, lol) their life as they knew it because of some terrible cause or reason, they become bitter. But I’m going to let you in on a little clue, the majority of us (the disabled anyway) don’t. And the vast majority of us don’t think our lives suck to the point where we want to end it. My view on suicide, it’s right for some people. If they’ve lived a full life, and I mean a full life and now they are 80 years old with painful cancer that will drain them of all their life’s saving, then I have no objections. A very talented comic and actor. He’s accomplished a list of awards that’s the length of your arm. He was in his 60s (I believe) and decided he accomplished enough in his life to call it quits. I have no problem with him calling it quits. In my mind he lived a full life. There are native peoples living in Canada and Alaska that call it quits when the time comes. When you live in the far North where resources are hard to come by, some after a full life and their days have become numbered will wander off into the woods on a cold freezing night. Their family and friends understand and let them go. They simply find a place to lay down and go to sleep – forever. Now there will be more food, clothing and resources for the children of the village. This may sound awful and it is somewhat, but the animals living near the village also benefit. But if you haven’t accomplished all your dreams and you call it quits, then you are a fucking idiot. When I was 17 years old lying in a hospital bed unable to move, a Lawyer came into my room. He told me I was going to receive ¾ of a million dollars. That instantly made my glass ¾ full. I was going to have enough money to travel the world. If someone told you when you were 17 years old that you will receive enough money to travel the world for the rest of your life, would you be happy? Don’t answer yet. If you were laying in a hospital bed unable to move, would you think about all the things you can’t do, or dream about the things you still can? Spoiler alert! You’re going to think about the things you can still do. I was going to get a passport and travel the world. I knew I wouldn’t be able to travel by myself, but then why would I, I was going to take my family and friends with me. If some wanted to see Italy and look up our family tree, then that is just one or several of the trips. I was going to receive ¾ of a million dollars and my father would invest it for me, so I could simply travel and live off the profits alone. That meant I could go to Africa with those wanted to see it. Oh, I dreamed of Australia. I was going to travel!

Oh, are you still reading this? That means my father still hasn’t been able to show that he loves me.

Its 12:51am and I’m completely lost on what I was talking about. I’ll try to figure it out tomorrow.

But before I go to bed, to dreamland, do you know my mother and father have never asked me what my dreams are (what I wanted in life). They didn’t ask me when I was 7 years old. They didn’t ask when I was 17 years old. They didn’t ask when I was 27, 37, 47… To this day, they’ve never asked. Don’t believe me? Ask them to name a single dream that I’ve had.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash where ever you are…

Do you know who used to end his TV show with that saying?

I’ll give you a hint. He couldn’t sing, but he could still sing better than me.

Oh, this is why too funny not to share. I didn’t know how to spell Calabash, so I started typing in “Goodnight Mrs. Call…” until Bing brought up the rest. I switch off between Google and Bing. One sometimes works better depending on what I’m looking for.

Anyway Bing brought up 4 videos under that request. 3 were for a video of the actor saying that phrase and the 4th is a 32 second video of a sea Lion Snoring.

I’m so easily entertained. Of course I had to watch the video. I’m beat, so I don’t have a clue if I told you the sea lion story from back in 1995 when I was in San Francisco looking for a place to live.

Goodnight!

Good morning. I’m still in dreamland. I needed that sleep. I just opened the lid of my computer and found the last couple of paragraphs. Give me a minute. I’m going to read this from the beginning while I have my morning can of Dew.

O.K. Full disclosure. I don’t talk about them (my wants, needs and dreams) publicly. I never went to my parents and told them about my dreams. I have a brother or two (and know too many others) that would always tell me about there’s. I’d politely listen to them, but I knew they would never follow through on them. I called them pipe dreams. Pipe dreams are the dreams pot smokers have. They fill up their pipe, smoke it and then tell you all the things they’re going to do when they grow up. Those with pipe dreams rarely grow up. They grow old, but they rarely grow up. Hey! Hey! Hey! I’ve have nothing against pot smokers. I know several and I tried it for a while. Its just my opinion of those that always tell you (for hours sometimes) all the things they’re going to do – pipe dreams are like some, some but not all pot smokers (like Lawyers. 5% make the other 95% look bad) , but their history suggests they’re just pipe dreams, because they never follow through on any of them, and on the very few pipe dreams that they do try to achieve, they give up before the going even becomes a little tough. I’ve heard so many pipe dreams over the years, looking back on it, I sometimes wonder if I should have called some of them on them?

So I’ve never been one to talk about my wants, needs and dreams, especially after my accident. I don’t know want I can still do. The rumor has it that I’m paralyzed from the chest down. But what makes accomplishing pipe dreams if you’ll allow me to call them that is my hands are also paralyzed. Just putting a nut on a bolt can take me an hour. Sometimes I have to undo everything I’ve done on a project because I can’t get a nut on a bolt. But I don’t have pipe dreams. I reevaluate the situation and start over. I don’t give up! I never will! I’ve got a treat for you. One of these days I’ll get someone to video me singing Born to be Wild. I believe you’ll understand me and my beliefs a lot better if you heard me singing it. But far warning, don’t turn the volume up. I don’t believe in talking about things I’ll never do. When I was a teenager I seen a falling star. My wish was simple. I’m going to be happy. If it decides to hide from me, I’ll find it again. Maybe I’m a rare person?

If you’re the parent of a disabled child, shouldn’t you ask them what their dreams are?

Wouldn’t you want your disabled child’s dreams to come true?

If you take on the responsibility of investing your child’s money (disabled or not), shouldn’t you invest it so your child’s dreams can come true?

I’m living on Social Security. Its the only income I know will be there after I post this chapter of my life.

Jerry O’Dovero,

When I was young, I idolized my father. He was my hero. I wanted to be just like him when I was older. That seems like a life time ago. Now a days, I rarely think about him, and I’d never want to be like him. Not anymore. It’s no fun when you peal back the layers of the onion and see its ugly and rotten. My birthday was last April. My father didn’t call. My mother didn’t call me either. I don’t know why I though they would. For the 20 years I’ve lived in California, my father has never called. He’s never wished me a single happy birthday since I moved from Marquette, He’s never wished me a Merry Christmas either. Do you think my father hates me? What could I have possibly done to him that’s so terrible that he would turn his back on me. Why would he disown me?

Its time to start writing again. I’ve been afraid too long. I’ve been afraid to tell you about what my father did. How he betrayed me. Talking about the fun stuff in my life is easy. But I didn’t want to talk about the not so happy times Then one day I woke up feeling like I’ve been lying to you. I was lost. How do you tell the world your family stole your disability money? Everyone has a story that they’re afraid to tell. Mine, I don’t want to tell God and the world that my father isn’t the father you think he is. He isn’t the father I idolized when I was young. You see he stole every penny of my $700,000 of disability money and he never gave it back. I’m done lying. I’m done lying to you and I’m done lying to myself. But I’ll make a deal with my family right now. If they can produce a single document showing my father making a single investment with my disability money for me I’ll delete this entry and I’ll never say a bad word about him or any family member ever. I promise I’ll delete every bad word I’ve ever said about anyone in the family and I promise to never ever say a bad word about anyone in the family ever.

Are you still reading this? I guess everything I have to say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God. I’m pretty sure if my father invested my disability money for me there would some kind of a paper trail. You would think so? Right? I was so hoping my father would call me this time on my birthday. I was so hoping he’d tell me he was sorry and that he was going to make it up to me. My birthday is April 17th. I finally decided that if my father didn’t call me this year on my birthday that I was done being afraid. Its time to tell my story. Not just the the good, but the good, the bad and the ugly. Should that be the title of my book? Naw! If you are old enough to remember, that’s the title of a Clint Eastwood movie. It was one of three spaghetti westerns he was in. The movie was filmed in Italy back in the 60s. They were probably some of Clint Eastwood’s first movies. He played the classic Clint Eastwood. He was the quiet man that didn’t say much. Clint let his guns and his fists do his talking. So no, I can not use that title. It would be a disservice to him.

Are you still reading this? I don’t know how much longer I can ramble on while we wait for my family to produce a document, any document showing my father made investments for me. Its hard to tell you my family cares more about my money and keeping it than they do about me. But its time to get get started. I’ve given them 36 years to say they’re sorry and to make it up to me. Again, should those documents be hard to find because they’re boxed up and stored in an dusty attic or some damp basement or storage bay that has been long forgot about and no one has a key to, I’ll still delete this and any future stories and any and everyone in the family that aren’t completely positive, uplifting and happy.

The hardest part of writing about my father stealing all of my disability money then disowning me is convincing you that it really happened. You’re not going to want to believe it. I don’t want to believe it. Why and how could he have done it. So before I go any further, I want you to known I have no one to blame but myself. I let it happen. I made every mistake possible. I was stupid. I never fought my father for it. I kept lying to myself by thinking he or someday my brothers and sisters would make it up to me. I was the dumbest guy on earth. I lived in a world of denial. Denial is not just a river in Egypt. Denial is so much easier than facing the truth. I was the king of denial. But now I’m done. I finally decided that if I didn’t hear from my father by my birthday, that I was never going to. Its time to start writing again. I’m sure you’ve missed me! You know my good looks, charm and personality. My thoughtful little tidbits about history and weird facts. Don’t laugh. I like history. And those dumb little facts are bouncing around in my head all the time. You’re just lucky you’re not me. My mind bounces from thought to thought all day long.

Speaking of useless crape bouncing around in my head just trying to get out, you’ve heard that nursery rhyme about Humphrey Dumpty? What do you think its about? An egg? A person? An egg?

The answer would be none of those. Its about a cannon. Humphrey Dumpty was the name of a cannon. You know the big metal things that go boom, smoke everywhere and a large metal ball smashes into something. The year was 1648? give or take a few. England was in the middle of a civil war. Quick question. When wasn’t England in the middle of a civil war? Well, half the country didn’t like the king. I think it was King Charles I. Have you ever wonder why kingdoms, monarchies or presidencies that hand the leadership down to their oldest son(s) don’t last for more than a few generations? They always start with a brilliant leader/warrior. A man that can organize armies and kick butt with them. Then he dies and the son and than his son if it last that long gets his head cut off by the new brilliant leader/warrior. My theory is that sooner or later the oldest male son is just a dumb ass. The only reason he’s the leader is because he happens to be the oldest son. An example, and I’m not in any way calling him a dumb ass, but from the very and I mean very little I know about him, and its all from late night comedy TV, is the current leader of North Korea. Again, I know very little about him, but something tells me mmmm – well, I just don’t see him the leader of North Korea if his father wasn’t the leader before him. But I’ve been wrong before. Anyway, back to 17th century England. The Royalist didn’t like the king, so they were attacking the castles loyal to the king. On the top of one of the castle towers was a huge cannon and for some reason it was named Humphrey Dumpty. The royalist used their cannons (names unknown) to fire on the tower. It didn’t take too long before they knocked the tower and the cannon (Humphrey Dumpty) down.

Humphrey Dumpty sat on a wall

Humphrey Dumpty had a great fall

All the kings horses and

all the kings men

couldn’t put Humphrey back together again

The nursery rhyme makes a little more sense with a little back story. And the king, Charles I? They cut his head off, of course.

OK back to my life. I’m not going to tell this chapter of my life to make my father look bad. Truth be told, if you steal your disabled child’s disability money, make $10,000,000 while you leave your disabled child living on social security, you’ve made yourself look bad. I wish I could just call my father and resolve this. I wish I could call him and ask why? Why did he do it? Why doesn’t he care about me? Why won’t he even talk to me?

The last time he’s taken a call from me was on May 4th 1997. People that know me are laughing right now. How could I remember the exact day? And they have good reason to laugh. I don’t even know what today’s date is. I know it’s a Wednesday, and its September. But the number, I don’t have a clue. But I know for a fact it was May 4th 1997 the last time my father took a phone call from me. I moved into California on September 15th 1995, give or take a few days. I moved here by myself and I didn’t know anyone that lived in California. To meet people, I’d go to a sports bar and watch the Detroit Red wings hockey games. Over time I met several Michigan transplants like me. Soon we were meeting up for the games on a regular basis. I’ll talk more about that another time, but on May 4, 1997 I called my father. In less than a minute he hung up on me. My sister Connie was working for him at the time. She told me that he instructed his office staff to never take a phone call from me ever again. And he never has. I’ve tried calling him a dozen times since then. Not only won’t he take my calls, but when I’m in Marquette he won’t see me.

OK, I’ll tell the May 4, 1997 story. After I called my father for what turned out to be the last time, I took the light rail shuttle downtown to watch the Detroit Redwings play the Anaheim Mighty Ducks in the second round of the 1997 NHL playoffs. I was the first to arrive at the sports bar (San Jose Live). I liked going early so I could have a nice meal before drinking with my friends. Jack and his brother Matt showed up just before the puck drop. Right away Jack asked me what was wrong. I told him I just had the worst day of my life. After some pressing, I broke down and told them I called my father a prick when he tried telling me how he has been a great father to me. Matt looked at me with disbelief. He finally stops me and says the day of my accident would had to be the worst day of my life! Matt was just dumbfounded. Not me! Being betrayed by my father hurts a lot more than needing a wheelchair.

My new friends had never seen me being anything but happy. When I’m not feeling happy, I tend to stay home. I don’t want the world to see me sad. So my friends bought me a beer to get me smiling and back to the happy go lucky guy they normally see. When that wasn’t working fast enough, they bought me a shot. Then another and another. It was hard pretending I wasn’t hurting inside, but Kelly showed up. Kelly was a 5’5” or so 110 pounds, brown shoulder length hair and a smile that made me feel happy. Oh, she was a Colorado Avalanche fan. The hockey games between the Detroit Redwings and the Colorado Avalanche games back then were the NHL’s version of Slap Shot. During the 1995-1996 season Detroit had the best regular season record ever in the NHL. They had 62 wins, only 13 losses and 7 ties. Back then the NHL had only a one 5 minute (5 on 5) overtime. If no one scored, the game was called a tie. That year Detroit was unstoppable during the regular season. Detroit breezed through the Western Conference Quarter finals against the Winnipeg Jets pretty easily. The Western Conference Semifinals went 7 games. The game was tied 0-0 and into the 2nd overtime when Wayne Gretzky fumbled a pass. The Captain, No. 19 Steve Yzerman crossed the red line with the puck,then as he crossed the blue line wound up and slapped the puck. The hard rising shot went over the shoulder of the St. Louis Blues goalie. The rising puck went just over the shoulder, but under the cross bar for the goal and the win. The Western Conference finals was against the New Colorado team. The team wasn’t new. The year(s) before the team was located in Quebec Canada. That year the team moved to Denver Colorado. The mighty record setting Detroit Redwings lost in 6 games to the Colorado Avalanche. It was heart breaking for us Redwing fans. During the final game (6) Colorado’s Claude Lemieux checked Detroit’s Kris Drapper face first into the boards. Detroit’s player needed several hours of surgery to repair the broken bones in his face. Colorado went on to win the Stanley cup that year. That was all it took to start the best rivalry the NHL had in years. The next year, the next several years the 4 hockey games between Detroit and Colorado were some of the most intense fought games of the modern era. And when I say fought, there were 6 guys on one team fighting 6 guys on the other. Yes even the goalies were fighting. It was like that for years. Detroit won the Stanley cup in 1997 and again in 1998. Colorado won again in 2001 and Detroit won in 2002. You can you tube the Redwings v Avalanche and a dozen or more links will pop up.

Anyway, even though Kelly often showed up to the sports bar (San Jose Live) wearing the enmities jersey, she always sat with us. If I remember right, Kelly often showed up on days when just the Redwings played. Her boyfriend she was dating was an idiot. Looking back on it, I don’t think they were really dating. I’m betting she called it dating to keep men from hitting on her. Some couples just look perfect for each other, when they look at each other you can see it in their eyes, their faces and their body language that they love each other and are meant to be together. Then there are other couples that make oil and water a better match for each other. You can only hope the makeup sex is worth the hell they put each other through on a daily basis. Looking back on my life, I should have asked more women out. All my life I’ve been my own worst enmity. Its a good thing my brain is hard wired to see the glass, not only half full, but ¾ full. I see the world as mostly good. I think people are mostly good. Some do some dumb or bad things, but I think most are good underneath. Me, I don’t like feeling sad or angry. It just don’t sound like fun. So I don’t do it. And the very few times I do, I tend to stay home. I stay home and figure out what the problem is and correct it. One time it required moving 2000 miles away from my family and friends by myself to find happiness again. Maybe some people that wake up one day to find out they lost something, the use of their legs or eyes, the loss of their sole mate or to make a long story short (like that’s possible for me, lol) their life as they knew it because of some terrible cause or reason, they become bitter. But I’m going to let you in on a little clue, the majority of us (the disabled anyway) don’t. And the vast majority of us don’t think our lives suck to the point where we want to end it. My view on suicide, it’s right for some people. If they’ve lived a full life, and I mean a full life and now they are 80 years old with painful cancer that will drain them of all their life’s saving, then I have no objections. A very talented comic and actor. He’s accomplished a list of awards that’s the length of your arm. He was in his 60s (I believe) and decided he accomplished enough in his life to call it quits. I have no problem with him calling it quits. In my mind he lived a full life. There are native peoples living in Canada and Alaska that call it quits when the time comes. When you live in the far North where resources are hard to come by, some after a full life and their days have become numbered will wander off into the woods on a cold freezing night. Their family and friends understand and let them go. They simply find a place to lay down and go to sleep – forever. Now there will be more food, clothing and resources for the children of the village. This may sound awful and it is somewhat, but the animals living near the village also benefit. But if you haven’t accomplished all your dreams and you call it quits, then you are a fucking idiot. When I was 17 years old lying in a hospital bed unable to move, a Lawyer came into my room. He told me I was going to receive ¾ of a million dollars. That instantly made my glass ¾ full. I was going to have enough money to travel the world. If someone told you when you were 17 years old that you will receive enough money to travel the world for the rest of your life, would you be happy? Don’t answer yet. If you were laying in a hospital bed unable to move, would you think about all the things you can’t do, or dream about the things you still can? Spoiler alert! You’re going to think about the things you can still do. I was going to get a passport and travel the world. I knew I wouldn’t be able to travel by myself, but then why would I, I was going to take my family and friends with me. If some wanted to see Italy and look up our family tree, then that is just one or several of the trips. I was going to receive ¾ of a million dollars and my father would invest it for me, so I could simply travel and live off the profits alone. That meant I could go to Africa with those wanted to see it. Oh, I dreamed of Australia. I was going to travel!

Oh, are you still reading this? That means my father still hasn’t been able to show that he loves me.

Its 12:51am and I’m completely lost on what I was talking about. I’ll try to figure it out tomorrow.

But before I go to bed, to dreamland, do you know my mother and father have never asked me what my dreams are (what I wanted in life). They didn’t ask me when I was 7 years old. They didn’t ask when I was 17 years old. They didn’t ask when I was 27, 37, 47… To this day, they’ve never asked. Don’t believe me? Ask them to name a single dream that I’ve had.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash where ever you are…

Do you know who used to end his TV show with that saying?

I’ll give you a hint. He couldn’t sing, but he could still sing better than me.

Oh, this is why too funny not to share. I didn’t know how to spell Calabash, so I started typing in “Goodnight Mrs. Call…” until Bing brought up the rest. I switch off between Google and Bing. One sometimes works better depending on what I’m looking for.

Anyway Bing brought up 4 videos under that request. 3 were for a video of the actor saying that phrase and the 4th is a 32 second video of a sea Lion Snoring.

I’m so easily entertained. Of course I had to watch the video. I’m beat, so I don’t have a clue if I told you the sea lion story from back in 1995 when I was in San Francisco looking for a place to live.

Goodnight!

Good morning. I’m still in dreamland. I needed that sleep. I just opened the lid of my computer and found the last couple of paragraphs. Give me a minute. I’m going to read this from the beginning while I have my morning can of Dew.

O.K. Full disclosure. I don’t talk about them (my wants, needs and dreams) publicly. I never went to my parents and told them about my dreams. I have a brother or two (and know too many others) that would always tell me about there’s. I’d politely listen to them, but I knew they would never follow through on them. I called them pipe dreams. Pipe dreams are the dreams pot smokers have. They fill up their pipe, smoke it and then tell you all the things they’re going to do when they grow up. Those with pipe dreams rarely grow up. They grow old, but they rarely grow up. Hey! Hey! Hey! I’ve have nothing against pot smokers. I know several and I tried it for a while. Its just my opinion of those that always tell you (for hours sometimes) all the things they’re going to do – pipe dreams are like some, some but not all pot smokers (like Lawyers. 5% make the other 95% look bad) , but their history suggests they’re just pipe dreams, because they never follow through on any of them, and on the very few pipe dreams that they do try to achieve, they give up before the going even becomes a little tough. I’ve heard so many pipe dreams over the years, looking back on it, I sometimes wonder if I should have called some of them on them?

So I’ve never been one to talk about my wants, needs and dreams, especially after my accident. I don’t know want I can still do. The rumor has it that I’m paralyzed from the chest down. But what makes accomplishing pipe dreams if you’ll allow me to call them that is my hands are also paralyzed. Just putting a nut on a bolt can take me an hour. Sometimes I have to undo everything I’ve done on a project because I can’t get a nut on a bolt. But I don’t have pipe dreams. I reevaluate the situation and start over. I don’t give up! I never will! I’ve got a treat for you. One of these days I’ll get someone to video me singing Born to be Wild. I believe you’ll understand me and my beliefs a lot better if you heard me singing it. But far warning, don’t turn the volume up. I don’t believe in talking about things I’ll never do. When I was a teenager I seen a falling star. My wish was simple. I’m going to be happy. If it decides to hide from me, I’ll find it again. Maybe I’m a rare person?

If you’re the parent of a disabled child, shouldn’t you ask them what their dreams are?

Wouldn’t you want your disabled child’s dreams to come true?

If you take on the responsibility of investing your child’s money (disabled or not), shouldn’t you invest it so your child’s dreams can come true?

I’m living on Social Security. Its the only income I know will be there after I post this chapter of my life.

If you’re still reading this, then my family has never invested a penny of my disability money for me. If they did there would be some kind of a paper trail. They would show it to me if only to stop me from writing about them. I KEEP MY PROMISES! I’ll delete this if they produce a single sheet of paper showing they invested just some of my money for me. 0Its been 36 years. I’m going out on a limb and saying they never are going too!

If you’re still reading this, then my family has never invested a penny of my disability money for me. If they did there would be some kind of a paper trail. They would show it to me if only to stop me from writing about them. I KEEP MY PROMISES! I’ll delete this if they produce a single sheet of paper showing they invested just some of my money for me. Its been 36 years. I’m going out on a limb and saying they never are going too!