Stripped

Last night, I ventured to Atlanta for an evening of food and drink (as in, one drink, enjoyed for the sole purpose of trying a friend’s suggestion) with friends from high school.  High school.  My fingers and toes are not plentiful enough to account for the years that have passed since the days I navigated my way through, and mostly around, the high school drama stage.  I was fortunate to create some beautiful relationships back then, though, and I appreciated the opportunity to reconnect and bring those relationships forward.

We met in Buckhead, the popular, uptown district which offers an incredibly eclectic array of dining and entertainment options.  Misti and Greg were high school sweethearts who married soon after graduation.  Dave is a recently divorced executive chef who, during high school, hung out with the members of the local music community.  Being a member of a rock-n-roll band, I moved through a lot of the same circles Dave did.  All four of us were friends two decades ago, and we have moved in and out of each other’s lives sporadically over the intervening years.  Our mutual desires to reconnect contrived to bring about this Atlanta get-together.

I have revealed over the course of this blog that I maintain some insane work hours.  Since opening my own practice, I have rarely attempted to have a normal "social life."  I do not mind this, which baffles many of my friends and family.  Despite being an outgoing and fairly social person, I greatly enjoy time alone and identify with the loner persona.  All of this results in a very careful and highly selective process for choosing who I spend time with.  I do enjoy sharing the company of good friends, and I do enjoy going out and being entertained by the antics of others.  Heck, I enjoy entertaining others with my antics!  Hence, I was sitting in a Thai restaurant enjoying the delightful (and wonderfully spicy) Kang Keaw Wan, a green curry dish with bamboo shoots, mixed vegetables and a coconut milk base.

Greg and Misti are divorced now but have a good relationship and are the parents of two teenaged daughters.  Greg shared a drink with us and visited briefly before continuing to another dinner date a few blocks away.  After that, Dave and I, of course, received the semi-dramatic update on the demise of Misti’s marriage to Greg.  Misti also shared interesting tales of her travels to Ireland and Hawaii.  Dave thrilled us with stories of his adventures in the Netherlands and the Carribean.  As I listened and we laughed and exclaimed, I realized that few of my family court or criminal court stories were very interesting.  However, I possessed a much more interesting story, if only I dared to share.

So I shared.  "She must be hot," stated Dave, matter-of-factly.  "She lives in Spain?!" Misti asked in disbelief.  "Yes, she’s hot." I affirmed, receiving a "whatever" look from Misti.  I replied to the look: "She is hot, and she’s smart as hell, funny, and creative.  So, you think that’s too far away?" I asked.  "I mean, how far away is too far away?" I continued.  From there, the conversation became a moderately philosophical and largely humorous debate on love, relationships, cyber-sex, cyber-love, cyber-hell, psychos, dating websites, and the seemingly changing role geographic distance plays in relationships.  We solved no important issues, and we derived no definitive answers to life’s important questions.  We did agree that the importance of proximity, in regards to relationships, is directly proportional to the goals of the people involved.  For instance, if one desires a "hook-up" only, then reaching out to someone who lives 4 or 5 or even 12 hours drive away is not that big of a deal, provided they decide to meet for a night or weekend of "fun."  In most cases, though, the "hook-up" goal is thwarted by such difference.  Geographic proximity may not be as important in cases involving people who desire a deeper, more meaningful cerebral and emotional connection and who may have hopes of a long-lasting relationship.  This is especially true if they eventually meet occasionally and one or both are willing, if it gets to that point, to relocate.  Dave told me I should go to Spain.  Misti told me I should be careful.  Misti knows me well enough to know when I have let my heart get involved.

After dinner, we exited the restaurant and met Rick, another friend from high school.  Although dozens of high school friends and acquaintances live in Atlanta, this was no coincidence.  Rick knew we were meeting but did not think he could make it.  When his evening plans concluded, he rushed from Little Five Points to Buckhead in hopes of at least a quick greet.  Of course, we could not let it be that quick and cold, so we entered another establishment, where I enjoyed white chocolate cheesecake with an oreo crust.  Rick is a world traveler and spends his work days in third world countries providing accounting direction to the establishment of schools and hospitals.  His stories are more interesting than most of mine, too.

When we left, I walked to my car with Misti and Dave, and we discussed getting together again in April.  "April may find me in Spain."  I replied.  They laughed, understanding that distance is only one of the obstacles involved.  Every relationship provides challenges, opportunities to grow and share, teach and learn.  I drove the 2 hours home in unexpected silence, glad that I crawled out of my cave and nurtured some old relationships, looking ever forward to the other one standing on the threshold.

My bottle, alas, is empty these days. I almost have completed the interview, but time is more precious than money, fuel, and about everything else I can think of these days, and therefore, like the rest of those things, I have little time.

I was thinking tonight of my practice and how to turn the battle into an amicable partnership. For now, the practice kicks my ass. The good thing is that every time I pick myself off the floor, I am better prepared to take the damn thing down. The legal matters and trials are going well, and I have been fortunate enough to win much more than I lose. That’s a good thing for the clients, but it’s really good for me, because I already am getting whipped. I love a challenge, though.

So, last week I was smothered, scattered, and I took the horizontal break. Then I stood, stretched. Now I shower. Stay tuned.

The best medicine is dictated by the diagnosis. The diagnosis by the symptoms presented, and the acumen applied. In general terms, some have put forth laughter as the best medicine. Laughter is an excellent choice for temporary relief, of course. Without laughter, we mortals may cease to uncover the joys of heaven, but I sit now, reckoning. The touch of another - caring, loving, concerned, tender, firm. Another best medicine, for sure. I need that now. Everything is proceeding along quite well - vocationally, finacially, emotionally. Someone who understands the value of being held, snuggling close, feeling skin on skin - where are you?

They needed each other’s assistance, like a company who, crossing a mountain stream, are compelled to cling close together, lest the current should be too powerful for any who are not thus supported. Sir Walter Scott

In their friendship they were like two of a litter that can never play together without leaving traces of tooth and claw, wounding each other in the most sensitive places. Colette

Leaving is like tearing off skin. Larry McMurtry

Eleven. Seven. Four years separating them. You’d never know it. They are teachers of one another. Best friends. Buddies. Alternatingly, they share titles: good guy, bad guy, cop, robber, hero, villain. They are comrades. Allies. Enemies. Playmates. Chums. Brothers.

As their parent, I sometimes succumb to the force of imminent doom. Perceived doom, perhaps, but as their parent, that’s all it takes. Fourteen months from now, Mr. Eleven will prepare to move to the junior high school, middle school here. For the first time, Mr. Seven will go through his school days without his rock. Oh sure, when Mr. Eleven entered first grade, Mr. Seven stayed home. There are other rocks there. Security. No pressure. Just a need to occupy the time until Eleven got home. Things change. It’s a lesson that tends violently to be learned at times. Seven’s heart is vulnerable. I hurt vicariously.

What tramples this analytical soul to a worn-bare dogpath is what is sure to accompany Eleven’s academic progression: a new comrade; perceived maturity that distorts the importance of Seven and shoulders him aside; new interests; girls. Understand that I am not a pessimist. I love, though. Some may argue that there is no difference. Come, walk with me. There is beauty in the challenge.

As their parent, I accept as my duty the role of teacher, referee, counselor, provider. I am thrilled with the job as much as I am overwhelmed by it. The impending change in my sons’ dynamic is just another step in my education, my on-the-job training. I have been here before, back when I was the trellis for another. I suppose I can be forgiven because I was a child, merely an older brother with angst of my own; but I moved hard and fast into my new, older, "cooler" world and left my brother behind. I did not look back until, seven years later, he was beyond reach. He faced incarceration but got out of that by entering the service. The gravity of the perceived rejection delineates our relationship to this day. I hope I am a better teacher for it.

I wrote of roots. I live to provide water. I want my sons to recognize in one another the nourishment of life. I want nothing to be thicker than the blood they share. I want them to understand that their meaning, their bond, never needs to be sacrificed on the pyre of their independence. I want the wisdom to bring them to this place. I seek it. It is my job. I long to be the third pea in the pod. It is the golden parachute that follows the job of parenthood. One day we will sit in the pod and laugh at the shenanigans they concocted when they were eleven and seven.

Roots.
In the mathematical universe, so much of numbers theory revolves around the identification of the root.
In many different areas, diagnostic issues focus on the root cause of the problem, the issue.
In the computer world, we have the root directory.
In music, the fundamental note of a chord is the root.

On Monday, I got to the office at 8:30 a.m. I ate a cranberry-orange bagel with butter and drank a chai - whole milk, strong, hot. I had two real estate loan closings scheduled for that day, and I was awaiting the closing packets. I skipped lunch. I made eleven phone calls, typed eight letters, and drafted two wills. I finished the last closing at 5:20 p.m. I had not smoked a cigarette in twenty-one hours, so I went to the post office with the secondary (primary?) goal being to smoke one on the way. I returned to the office and assessed the situation. I decided that I should eat before doing anymore assessing.

I checked my bank account. I decided that scrounging something from the office cubbard and refrigerator would be fine. I ate a peanut butter sandwich, a banana, three mini tootsie rolls, and drank some Mountain Dew. I assessed the situation more completely: I have lots to do.

I decided to start with housekeeping. After all, I work better in a neater, more organized environment. I turned on some music and began. A little after midnight, I unfurled my soft, thick, extra large blanket in the back room. I put the pillow down, then put me down. I awoke at 5:50 a.m. and took a bath in the sink. It was Tuesday, and, except for some modifications of the times and the clients and phone calls and typing, it proceeded the same way. It ended the same way. It is now Wednesday, and I hope to have the housekeeping/administrative tasks complete by tomorrow. Then I will re-assess.

I love what I am doing. I am excited about the potential. The hours are long, but I am working for me. That makes such a big difference. I do want to share the load with someone. With two someones, actually. A decent paralegal would be great, but to date I have had no luck finding one, much less hiring one. Also, someone to crawl into bed with and hold, and be held by… that would be good. Someone to share the stories of nameless clients who are troublemakers or upon whom trouble falls like rain or who have needs we all would like to have because they are so successful….

If you have read this blog for awhile, a LONG while, then you have read some of my beliefs regarding relationships. Currently, I must acknowledge that I have little time to give someone. Of course, that particular position is one I have been in for awhile and only has been exacerbated by my current venture. So, I find myself desiring someone who understands, or someone whose wants and needs aren’t so great that an evening here or there would be enough. In time, I am sure things will change.

The possibilites are exciting, so understand that this post is not negative. Not at all. In fact, the cool thing is that if I find a paralegal, then I will have more time. Imagine if I found a paralegal who also fulfilled the second want/need! Don’t worry. I understand the whole new set of problems that would create. i’m just saying….

December sucked, economically. Business was slow, yet I still splurged on Christmas. I’d do it again, though. January is proceeding nicely, and the first quarter of this year will probably change my life in many ways. Outside of the business, I am considering moving into a cute little house not far from the office. I need furniture, though… and dishes… and sheets and towels… and lots more stuff. That’s exciting, though - decorating a new place.

For now, it’s back to work. One of these days, I will continue work on the new site.

Frustrated at the lack of even a moderately cool office space for lease, I decided to return once more to the small town square where I really wanted to open my office in the first place. I was ready to call it quits for a week or so and renew my search then. I had looked on this scenic town square a week ago, to no avail. I can pass it on my way home if I take a two mile detour, so that’s what I did. As I turned the southeast corner on the square, I noticed that the art gallery that was on the corner was empty, and the space was for lease. An art gallery, a really nice and cool art gallery…. The space is immaculate, classy, artsy…. and priced less than I had budgeted. Tomorrow I should find out if it will be mine, and if so, then I will bring photos the next time. This venture depicts one type of independence.

First of all, we are instructed to carry it because to expect us to be ready to discard it would be folly. We must carry it. Why? Well, unless you are ready to crucify your worldly nature and walk from that cross residing only in the nature of the spirit, you must carry it. For how long? Until you are ready. When you are ready, you will hang every last bit of crap that is in you upon that cross and walk away a new creation. Now, that is independence.

I heard someone speaking yesterday about Darwinism, and I had had enough. The presumption made, and I must believe it was a presumption because I have read The Origin of the Species, was that Darwinism refutes creationism. Perhaps, if Darwinism is taken broadly (as referenced in the last part of Wikipedia’s definition quoted above) to mean simply "evolution," then there may exist some argument that creationism and this "Darwinism" cannot co-exist. However, where are the thinkers?

Apparently, judging by some email I have received, some are a tad worried that my previous post indicates some dire circumstances over here on My Side of the Mountain. While allowing that what constitutes "dire" is relative, I assure you that my current situation is one entered into by choice. I have options. I once had many more. Systematically, I have eliminated most of my other choices. I closed the doors on relationships that could have served as options. I threw away the schematic that showed the way to other possibilities. I cauterized the tendrils that kept me linked to other worlds, others’ worlds. I must do this without a net, or at least without a net that I strive mightily to secure. I must have faith.

I am going to work on saving enough money to get into the studio. I am going to pursue those things that I set aside because they were not "practical." I am going to fulfill the purposes of this heart and soul. Contentment lies not in achievement, but in knowing why you strive.

…another layer stripped away….

I did it. Fifteen minutes ago. I submitted my resignation. I have no job lined up. I have no great plan. I have no lottery winnings or large nest egg to live on. In fact, I believe that I could make it for three months without any income if I had to. Yet, I am not worried. I am stepping out on that limb, not worrying about what’s below.

What now? Good question. I am up for a road trip. Anyone want to strike a deal? Tomorrow is in our hands, soft, pliable clay. I am plopping it on the wheel. Everything else has been spinning, spinning, spinning. I stepped off that dizzying ride. I am now a work in progress, and I have my own potter’s wheel as well. My hands are unsure. My experience is but a resource. My plans are in the pen which is perched above a blank sheet of paper. But my vision is golden.

I am amazed at how little knowledge most people have regarding estate planning. Far too many people express the belief that the state will take at least some of their property if they die intestate (without a will). Many believe that the estate plan does not allow for much if any creativity, unless they have lots of money. They believe that an estate plan, in fact, is not necessary unless the estate is worth lots of money. They also believe that it costs too much money to develop a good estate plan. Well, I draft wills, trusts, powers of attorney, and other estate planning documents, and I generally charge very little. My rule of thumb: help the client. If you seek diligently, you will find others who feel the same.

I had a funny post for this Friday, but some client issues caused me to rethink my plan, and so on Monday you get the funny post. (Hey, it’s about a friend of mine who can pee over a golf cart. Yes, she can.) Today, I offer some educational nuggets and maybe some inspiration regarding your estate. Yes, I know, not only is it not the funny post, but it is quite the opposite. "Let’s contemplate our deaths, shall we?!"

Dying Without a Will

First of all, every state has an intestate succession statute which distributes the deceased’s estate in the event that no will exists. The typical intestate succession statute leaves everything to the spouse if there exists no children. For the record, "children" usually includes legitimate, illegitimate, stepchildren, adopted children, and those children derived from artificial insemination. If the deceased is married with children, then the spouse gets one half, and the children split the other half. (Read that again if necessary.) If the deceased leaves children but no spouse, then the children split everything. If the deceased leaves no spouse and no children, then the deceased’s parents take everything in equal shares. If no parents exists, then the maternal grandparents split one half, and the paternal grandparents split the othe half. On and on it goes.

Simple Guidelines for the Will

First of all, the authentication of the will can be bedeviled if the will presented for probate has handwritten deletions, modifications, or other marks suggestive of these. For that reason, I strongly advise everyone never to give others a copy of your will. It is senseless, anyway. Why do that? Keep the original in a safe place, and if you just must have a copy, make sure it is watemarked or otherwise notated on every page in such a way that it is clearly identified as a copy. If you want to discuss it with your children, parents, friends - fine. They do not need copies.

There is no requirement that a will be typed, prepared by an attorney, or stored in a safe deposit box. However, understand that software programs and other quick fixes generally do not adequately consider each state’s laws regarding wills and probate. The area of wills and probate is a state-controlled area, and each state has its own probate code. States vary, though not by much typically, in what they formally require in order to have a valid will. In general, a will must be written, signed by the testator, present the intent and capacity necessary to make a will, be dated, and be witnessed. The witnesses may even be beneficiaries.

When a husband and wife prepare wills, they often forget to include a Simultaneous Death clause. This can matter greatly. Understand that a husband and wife cannot operate with just one will. Each person needs his or her own will. Now, consider the spouses dying in a plane crash. If such an event occurs, it can be impossible to determine who died first. The husband’s will may have left a few things to his children from a previous marriage, and the rest to his wife. The wife’s will may have left a few things to her children from a previous marriage, and the rest to her husband. Whose will controls? Good question. That is why the spouses need corresponding Simultaneous Death clauses.

Finally, utilize the Memorandum option. Most jurisdictions allow the use of a separate document called a Memorandum. The Will itself references the Memo and instructs that all bequests in the Memo be satisfied prior to the Will, which directs the division of the remainder. The Memo is a separate, usually one-page document that contains a two-columned list. One column is for the asset to be described, and the other column is for identifying the beneficiary to receive the listed asset. This Memo can be added to over time. For instance, a person can keep this Memo in a safe place and pull it out after the holidays, upon learning that John Junior has always loved the gun cabinet in the garage. Old Crappy Gun Cabinet in the garage…. John Junior. The "Will" was just amended.

Everyone Can Be Creative

Life insurance proceeds are not probate property! This means that this money does not pass under a will. It passes as directed in the contract of insurance - typically called the insurance policy. However, do not ever forget or underestimate the importance of life insurance when it comes to estate planning. Sure, I know. You have a policy or two. Odds are, the beneficiaries of those policies are spouse, kids, maybe even parents. That’s good. However, if you want to do something really cool, create a trust. It’s not too expensive. In fact, I created a trust last week and charged the person $125. Why create a trust? Check this out.

Consider Joe and Amy, who have three children, 10, 6, 3 years of age. If Joe and Amy die, then the estate may receive life insurance money from one or both of the spouses, assuming the other spouse was the beneficiary. In that case, the children (or their guardian…. think long and hard about this…) would get the money. Arguably, a better scenario would have this money being managed in such a way that it could not be spent except as the parents would want it spent were they alive. Hence, the trust.

To make this short, I will complete the example with what I did last week. I established a trust for Joe and Amy. According to the trust, the guradian (or parent if one is still alive) of the children can spend money on behalf of the children only for education, health or welfare. When each child reaches 18, the child gets $2,500. When the child reaches 21, the child gets $5,000. When the child reaches 25, the child gets $7,500. When the child reaches 30, the child gets his or her share. You see, the beneficiary of the $250,000 life insurance policy was the Joe & Amy Children’s Trust. Upon Joe’s death, $250,000 went into a trust, managed by the bank. The bank is authorized to invest with minimum to moderate risk. The trustee is authorized to distribute funds only as authorized in the trust document. Think about this. Let your creativity and imagination work.

Live Well, Die Well

That’s enough for now. Of course, estate and other taxes must be considered. If the estate is valued at a million dollars, the government may get over a third of it in taxes. There are ways to diminish these taxes. Lifetime gifts, shelters, and so on. I will not bore you anymore, though. Just remember that it doesn’t take much these days to have an estate valued that high. Do you have a house, land, a vacation home? If you die in 10 years, what do you imagine their values will be? Add to that the values of automobiles, bank accounts, and so on… It adds up quickly.

Maybe I will post more on this. Let’s see if anyone is awake enough, cares enough, is curious enough to read it, first!

Have a great weekend!