The work that Troy does is very personal to me. I am a 38 year old law enforcement veteran who's investigative resources allowed me the opportunity to find my father and family on my own. Below I am sharing my Facebook Bio as well as a letter to my family after our July 2009 reunion. At age 38 I experienced the most emotional and overwhelming year of my life. Years of pain, loneliness, and rejection are well on the way to healing as a result of my reunion. I hope and pray that all of you who are lost can find the strength and courage to find you families and heal your lives. This is worth your time and your effort, despite the outcome, having answers is far better than living with questions. Good luck to you all!
;-)
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I am a family man. I had a childhood full of chaos and unpleasant experiences but I eventually made it on my own.
I was born in Southern California in 1971. We moved around the Ventura County area where I attended a different school every year of my life and was never able to establish any permanent friendships or memories. In 1987 at the end of my sophomore year at Ventura High we made a sudden unplanned trip to Bolivar Missouri and never returned. The chaotic family life continued so I went out on my own shortly after we landed in Missouri. I experienced some difficult times, made some bad decisions and eventually straightened out my life with the help of a few special people and started building a future.
I have younger half siblings in Missouri and Florida. I barely know any of them since my departure from this household came before most of them were born or were old enough to remember me.
I have been married to Shelley since 1992, a beautiful and hard working woman who I credit with pointing me in the right direction. We have a wonderful child, Easton who is twelve. We live a comfortable and relatively normal life in the small town of Republic Missouri. I have to remind myself to be thankful for the life that I have because I am always wanting more.
I have only a few close friends. I enjoy giving to and helping my friends and there is almost nothing that I would not do for the people in this category.
I believe that everyone experiences problems in their life times, however I know that those experiences do not have to define your future. Everyone has the ability to make their own decisions and to choose who they want to be. It is a big free country full of opportunity. We should all learn to take responsibility for our own conditions and make adjustments to become happy and productive.
I am constantly drawn towards the ocean. I have a vision that I will soon be living very near the sand and salt water again. California would be great. I still consider Ventura, California to be my hometown, although I have now lived the greater portion of my life in Missouri. If not for my commitment to provide my son with a single set of friends and a single school system, my feet would be in the sand at this moment. I guess the annual trips to the ocean will have to do for now.
In February 2009 I took a chance and made contact with my father and his family, none of whom I have ever known of or met. In July 2009 my wife, son and I spent a week with him and the whole Del Nagro family in California. We had a great time! This is a tightly bonded, large family, who knew that it could be so much fun and that there could be so much love to go around. I missed 38 years but I consider myself very luck now, WOW!
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A letter to my new family after the reunion:
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In February 2009 at the age of 37 I made a decision to find the answer to my life long question. Prompted by age, maturity, health and maybe the need for sanity I sat down at my bedroom office computer and started to search public records for the name that I believed was my father's.
At a very young age, 4-6 as best I can remember my mother divorced the man that I believed was my father, his name was Bill Jones. It was not until the custody dispute started over my two year younger brother Michael that I learned that Bill was not my father. At the time I had the Jones name. As I grew up from place to place with various people coming and going I never really knew why my father was not around. Over the years I had been told that he was a chef, that he was in the Ojai, California area and that he had or was part of a large Italian family.
I recall at a young age (I believe less than age 10) that I was taken to a hospital and that my blood had been drawn for paternity testing. I recall watching out of a car window asking to see what my father looked like. I saw the back of his head as he walked across the parking lot and this had been the image in my mind for over thirty years. I do recall learning that a man named David was proven to be my father, in fact this may have been the time that I took the Corcoran name that is printed on my birth certificate. I was told that the paternity testing was forced by the state when my mother applied for state welfare benefits. As I recall it, she told me that my father was ordered to pay money to the state each month and that he had no interest in me. So life went on.
I recall being told by my mother that David, my father was a one time thing after a chance encounter. I knew that my mother was troubled at a young age, that her father was a CHP officer and that he was very strict. I was born in 1971, my mother was seventeen and not responsible or mature. Somewhere I had learned that drinking and smoking and partying during pregnancy in those days was normal, which might explain my early birth. I know that at 5 months of age my mother crashed a VW bug head on into a telephone poll and ejected me from her lap, through the windshield and into the hospital.
I often thought of who my father might be and sometimes I asked for answers. At some point I had been told that he had several children of his own. I recall thinking of them, wondering what they would be doing and who they were. I wondered if I would fit in with them. When times where tough growing up, I wanted nothing more then the chance to be with them. I used to fantasize about running away and somehow finding them, what life might I find with them. I always feared being a secret and causing harm to a functional family, to normal happy children and lifestyles, so I never moved forward or pushed it.
Sparing anyone the details of my mother's behavior, partying, drugs, men, alcohol and so on, I stayed with her full time and my two year younger brother Michael came and went from his father's home. Sometime around the age of 10-12 my mother met a man named John Harman in Oxnard California with whom she produced another child, Justin. My mother worked full time, John never worked as he claimed to have been disabled. I filled the role of a mother to my baby brother as my own mother worked and partied and enjoyed the low life ways of the outlaw bikers with John. I remember that John and my mother had engaged themselves in some type of an injury lawsuit involving his former employer and his alleged disability. For years, and years, and years this went on. The response to homelessness, poverty, and no food was always 'When the check comes in...." we will do this and we will do that, etc, etc. Always the reason to not get off the ass and earn a living.
My mother and John eventually married however they remained in a constant state of violence and poverty with no effort to provide a roof for a family, food for the table, or a stable and responsible life for their children. If you detect some resentment, that is exactly what it is. Illegal drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and sex were the priorities for these people. Domestic violence was severe and so was the abuse of his non biological children, pretty violent for a "Disabled" person. To this day, I resent my mother for refusing to stand up for herself or at least for her children. I understand "Domestic Violence" cycles and patterns, however I just don't buy it so this does not excuse her behavior. She has always been and will always be an immature person, a constant victim in my opinion and those are her choices.
Enough of that, point is that these two were together. My brother Michael was able to escape permanently and go live with his father. John's daughter Erica, my age, did the same. In 1985 my mother and John produced another child, this time a girl named Kasie. Things continued as they always had, mostly homeless, 5-6 of us living out of a 1968 Dodge van or what used to be the Motel 6 off of the 101 and Seaward in Ventura. In 1986 or 87 some kind of a check did actually "Come In". We won the white trash lottery so to speak. The prize as I recall it was a 1980 Ford conversion van, a pair of Reebok tennis shoes, and a trip to Disneyland and the state of Georgia. I don't know how much money there was, less than $100,000.00 I believe. I just know that it went away very fast, within a couple of months.
After the last day of my sophomore year at Ventura High School, May 1987, we loaded into the orange Ford van and headed to Missouri to allegedly take care of family business for John's relatives. It wasn't until after we arrived that I learned that we would never return to California. I have heard a few stories as to why we left suddenly from the Motel 6, and where the money had gone. I feel safe in stating that there was some kind of a high dollar drug deal or two that apparently did not go well, therefore it was time to run away and hide. Eventually we moved into a leased house in a premier subdivision in Bolivar Missouri. The house was new, it was large, it was clean but it was now occupied by a bunch of dirt bags. There was no furniture on the inside and the rented house did not change the behavior or the lifestyle of the occupants.
Living in a premier neighborhood did however provide me with a small social network for the first time in my life. I had developed a small amount of confidence finally. At the age of 16, after John refused to drive me to work in the snowstorm, ordering me to walk, I told him where to go and walked out of the door forever. I had worked ever since it was legal with a permit in California, all of my money went to the family. All he had to do was drive me to work a few miles away to earn his money.
Once out the door and on my own I jumped around with a couple of coworkers. Very soon I found myself doing stupid things. I got into some minor trouble over some juvenile behavior. A coworker, Rebecca "Cissy" Reed had lost her father suddenly and she and her mother Jessie offered to take me in and steer me toward the right path as I helped them survive on the farm. I moved in with them in a small town called Fair Play, Mo. They had a farm with actual cows and hay. I learned how to work with the cattle, I worked in a local diner, and went to school there. I met many good people during this time period and some not so good. I eventually moved on to the city of Springfield, Mo. My mother and John eventually had another daughter, Kellie, who is the youngest of the five of us produced by my mother. To this day, my contact with my sisters and brothers is random and seldom.
I worked several different jobs from janitorial to car washing to grocery bagging. While bagging groceries in 1991 I met my wife (Shelley) who was the daughter of a nice woman in the store bakery. In 1992 we married and in 1996 we had our only child Easton Reed. We started out young and careless with what little money we made, spent money that we didn't have to pay for her college tuition, for things like auto insurance and many other life items and stupid things. We finally worked through most of this young stupidity, landed decent jobs, and have been chipping away at life ever since.
During the significant events in my life I thought about my father, triggers such as my wedding, graduation from the law enforcement academy, the birth of my child, etcetera. Sometimes the thoughts and emotions were very strong and the tears came out, sometimes they were not. No matter what was going on I was always able to push these thoughts to the back of my mind and it eventually just seemed normal and acceptable that I would never meet my family. I still worried that I was a secret known only to him and did not want to destroy a family. Somewhere around 1994-1995 I was told by either my mother or by my grandmother in Simi Valley that Del Nagro may be my father's current last name. I did not understand how or why the name was different, however it seemed to make sense since my appearance had always been more Italian than Irish. In 1996, after the birth of my son, utilizing my law enforcement resources I located the identity and records of David Del Nagro which included an address and a telephone number. I tried to bring myself to make contact but I just could not do it. I finally excused my responsibility in this by stating to myself that it was a father's job to find his child and pushed it to the back burner again. For years, I carried this information about my father in the trunk of my police car within a file, just in case I developed the nerve to use it. Life just went on, always having thoughts of this family yet the determination to bury these feelings and pretend that I was not affected by this void.
In January 2009 something clicked inside of me, on many levels. Prompted partially by new job responsibilities and a fear of losing myself to a job, I knew that I had to carve my real priorities in stone. I developed the need to explore the spiritual side of life, to redefine myself and to identify priorities and cope with both the joys and tragedies in life. I was looking for a way to get rid of the emotional baggage that might be weighing me down. I couldn't easily identify a specific problem or need so I just decided to go with the stuff that I had buried and minimized my whole life. I had recently teased a friend or two about Facebook, a goofy social tool for children I thought. Who would want to publish their daily life activities, how silly. As I thought about what I wanted to do, I realized that I wanted to find a friend or two from my California past, I needed some closure after 22 years. I wanted to know if anyone out there had thought of me. Facebook was my answer.
I looked some people up to say hi, looked others up to say thanks, and others to say sorry. It was all very lifting and healing for me to find some attachment to the past. Very quickly and without planning or forethought, I decided to snoop around on the internet and learn about my father. I had misplaced my secret file from so many years ago so all that I had was the Del Nagro name, an approximate age, region, and occupation. Within a couple of hours I began to pursue the name Linda Del Nagro believing that I had found my father's wife. To make the email contact that I desired (still not brave enough to use a phone) I had to join Classmates.com to communicate with this Linda that I had found. I quickly typed a message and before I could stop to think about what I was doing I hit the send button. I felt that I was being driven to do this. For once I had thrown caution to the wind and just went for it.
My first contact with you all was through Aunt Linda for a reason beyond my understanding and I know that this was not random. She was so proper and respectful, but at the same time bursting at the seams and loving. Linda handled herself and treated all of you with respect and dignity, careful not to speak for any others but ready to facilitate all of the connections. Linda knew exactly how to handle me. Soon I heard from Christine, then Jane, Bobby, Christopher, Gena, Jessica, Gamyn, Aaron, Claire, Jessica, Summer, Kathy, Terri, Patti, Granny, Ashley, Tony, Andy, and just about everyone under the sun I believe. Finally it came, the old fashioned way, a letter from my father. I waited and wondered what a father who missed 38 years of his child's life could possibly say, what could it matter, what did he have to do. I looked at the sealed envelope for quite a while and then I opened it and read it. His message to me could not have been written any better. In an instant I knew that all was good and the weight floated off of my shoulders and out of my mind.
Now we have progressed into actual contact, I have met so many of you (I knew all of your names by the way). I immediately felt like I belonged with you when I arrived. I am not sure why, but it all feels natural. My anxiety quickly passed and was replaced by admiration and love for each and every one of you. I am truly saddened when I think of how much I have missed and all of things that I will never get to experience with you. I am now trying to determine what happens next. To open a can of instant family and eat in a week is not enough, life is too short and I have missed half of it with you already. I know that some of you were taking it easy on me. Were there orders from above to be on your best behavior? You must have some questions to ask and stories to tell, so this is why I have written to you all. I am trying to imagine what it must be like for you. A 38 year old man just walks in to your lives, your homes and your family. It would difficult to deal with. You know so little about me yet I am strolling through your spaces and places. Too weird!
This past week went by so fast, there was just not enough time to spend with many of you and I just hate it. I am so eager to hear about your lives. I want to know about the good and the bad. I already feel a need to be protective of you and to support you. I feel like there is little time to waste and that the clock is ticking. I have considered myself to be emotionally crippled for many years and not very expressive with my most personal feelings. Somehow you guys have pulled things out of me that I would normally keep to myself. I don't even have the personal space issues with you guys, so you must be great!
I truly want to thank you all for coming together for each other and for my little family. You may never know how much this all means to me. You have made my life complete! My son and my wife bonded with so man of you so very quickly, it tore all of us apart to leave and to see you go. We laughed, we loved and we cried this week. I sincerely thank you all for what you have done for my family, you have given me comfort in your existence. I already know that my son will have this family long after I am gone and I promise to be there for you too.
I look forward to every new day and I love you all.
Phil
