I've often wondered why people write wills and in those wills they stipulate how they are dividing money among children or grandchildren. That is, besides all the other chatchkas a person has to leave after a lifetime of collecting. Why wait till you're in your grave before you dole out the cash (if there's any left) to the kids? I would think a person would like to be around to hear the squeals of delight and the appreciation one might or might not experience. You see the light? If you get no signs of appreciation, then when you write the will, don't leave them a blessed thing, except perhaps the bill for the funeral or the price of the police escort to the cemetery.
Before you write a will, you look around the house and see all the articles that sit on the shelves or decorate the walls. You check out your clothing closet and chest of drawers, and books, and Lladros and Swarovskies, and WWII medals, and you think you could never decide who's going to get what. The problem doubles when you are in a second marriage, and the wife also has her own children and grandchildren. How will they fit in to these wills? Whose money is in the bank, and will it be enough for the survivor to live on once the pensions and compensations disappear? All this is designed to give one a big headache, and motivation to run to the drug store for Tylenols, Advils, and Xanaxes. You do know that once both of you die, the apartment passes on to the children who can either "time share" it or sell it and split the money. Hopefully that doesn't happen very soon because the housing market is way down, and homes are losing their value.
This afternoon I got a call from Gloria Slobin asking me to take a part she has for me in the show she is writing. After My Fair Lady I decided that I was finished as a performer, because I was losing the mobility required to move around the stage. Not only that, but I was not looking forward to 9 A.M rehearsals any longer. Now, I certainly was not being a prima donna waiting for someone to ask me to be in a show, so Gloria's call was a huge surprise to me. When I told her I'd rather not do any more shows, she seemed terribly disappointed, and that bothered me. I hate to say no to her and her husband, Bob Slobin because they are such fine people...and friends. So, I suggested that she try to find some new talent for that part, and Gloria said she wanted some "old" talent. We departed the call with nothing resolved. However, I am resolved to "will" some "inheritance" to my kids before I die...but not before Feb. 10, 2010.
5 comments:
From the Baronial blog, 8-8-01:
"I believe I mentioned that I received an invitation to the 50th Reunion of North Shore High School's first graduating class in 1958. Just think--I was 24."
The above is evidence of why the Baron did not teach Math, unless he was, indeed, born in 1934, which he was not.
The Red One has put the fear of Baronialism into his readers. They do not dare disagree with him, possibly because he is always correct.
In any case he is lucky to have four (eight?) splendid children who love and respect him.
Those of you who were not fortunate enough to see petite little Robin, the first female manager of a boy's team, missed something special. It was good training for her future career as a Marine.
First--Baron never blogged in August of 2001. Second--Baron never said he was 24. Baron was never 24 in his life. As far as being correct always, there is some evidence that truth exists there.
Baron was born in 1824 and therefour in 1958 if he said he was twentyfore, then it's a slam dunk.
I think you should spend the inheritance.
Red Baron has been advised that your siblings may poison your kibbles and bits for such advice.
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