Certain events in our lives are so significant that when we reflect on them, we remember where we were, what we doing, who we were with. As a culture we see this all the time. My generation will always be marked by the assassination of President Kennedy. If you ask anyone 50 or over, they will tell you...fourth grade, Taylor Elementary, they announced it over the speaker system, we were herded outside while teachers cried, some of the kids cried, I was a little puzzled about what was going on.
More recently, all you have to say is 9/11. We all were transfixed with the images and the news. Our world or the shape of it was permanently altered.
But this is also true of good news. The iconic picture of the sailor kissing the girl in Times Square tells of the exuberance over the end of the war. homecomings, good reports from the doctors, news of a baby on the way, all function as sort of markers for the journey. I remember vividly my son telling me, while standing in line at Wal-Mart that this girl from Minnesota was the one, feeling the joy of realizing he was starting a great journey with a one-of-a-kind companion. There was the moment of standing on the berm in front of my wife's aunt's house and having my bride open a charm in the shape of a baby carriage, announcing the pending arrival of our first grand child.
And just yesterday, hearing the overwhelming pride of my youngest tell me that we were going to have another grandson. Joking with her that Jimmy Don is still available...my guess it will be for a few years to come. Standing in the Phoenix airport in baggage claim, taking in the moment. I will always remember.
And there are other moments to come, unknown in scope or origin or impact, catching us off stride, floating in from left field, surprising us again with joy unexpected, but treasured none the less.
I am convinced that the quality of our lives is made up of the quantity of these moments.
Anyway, Godspeed, the journey is a good one
Don
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I Don't Get It
While going through security at DFW, just as my cellphone was going through the x-ray machine, I could hear it ringing. It was 5AM and there was only one person who could be calling me at that hour..my bride. She had gotten a call from American Airlines with the information that my flight had been cancelled. My original flight had been for 6:35AM.
Now I had already had my conversation with the ticket agent, she had gotten me on another flight, gotten me a good coach seat, and put my name on the upgrade list, checked my bag, and pointed me to the new terminal and new gate. The cause for the cancellation? The aircraft was "not air worthy" Glad they caught it on the ground. I'm betting repair at 30,000 ft. is a challenge, not to mention just a little tense.
So all the arrangements had been taken care of BEFORE the call to my house about all the changes.
Don't they tell us to be at the airport at least 2 hours early? Don't they keep harping on giving yourself enough time for security, for flight changes, for delays at the ticket counter? So why would they assume that I would still be at home at 5AM when my flight is at 6:35AM? I don't get it, either they assume that no one listens or they assume that a call to any of my contact numbers will suffice. Either way I'm sure the AA folks will shrug their shoulders and say, "I tried to call..."
Today's version of customer service leaves a lot to be desired. It is more CYA and lot less service. I get the fact that sometimes aircraft don't fly ( there is something a little unsettling about acknowledging that as you sit next to the thin skin of a metal cylinder with the glide path of a dropped rock, hurtling along at 450 mph, that all of that works only because the engines can push that thing fast enough to defy logic) I even get the fact that flight crews don't like to clean up the mess after a bumpy ride. What I don't get is that they knew before 5AM that the plane wasn't going anywhere. Did someone just say, "I think I will let Jolly sleep in a little, he's not going anywhere anyway." And I have 2 numbers in their system anyway, why not call both?
I think the company that figures out customer service is going to have a huge leg up on the rest of the world. They will be able to charge whatever they want, because the customer will be so stunned by the service that they will hand over their credit card without comment.
Well, I'm glad we got that off my chest.
Godspeed fellow travelers
Don
Now I had already had my conversation with the ticket agent, she had gotten me on another flight, gotten me a good coach seat, and put my name on the upgrade list, checked my bag, and pointed me to the new terminal and new gate. The cause for the cancellation? The aircraft was "not air worthy" Glad they caught it on the ground. I'm betting repair at 30,000 ft. is a challenge, not to mention just a little tense.
So all the arrangements had been taken care of BEFORE the call to my house about all the changes.
Don't they tell us to be at the airport at least 2 hours early? Don't they keep harping on giving yourself enough time for security, for flight changes, for delays at the ticket counter? So why would they assume that I would still be at home at 5AM when my flight is at 6:35AM? I don't get it, either they assume that no one listens or they assume that a call to any of my contact numbers will suffice. Either way I'm sure the AA folks will shrug their shoulders and say, "I tried to call..."
Today's version of customer service leaves a lot to be desired. It is more CYA and lot less service. I get the fact that sometimes aircraft don't fly ( there is something a little unsettling about acknowledging that as you sit next to the thin skin of a metal cylinder with the glide path of a dropped rock, hurtling along at 450 mph, that all of that works only because the engines can push that thing fast enough to defy logic) I even get the fact that flight crews don't like to clean up the mess after a bumpy ride. What I don't get is that they knew before 5AM that the plane wasn't going anywhere. Did someone just say, "I think I will let Jolly sleep in a little, he's not going anywhere anyway." And I have 2 numbers in their system anyway, why not call both?
I think the company that figures out customer service is going to have a huge leg up on the rest of the world. They will be able to charge whatever they want, because the customer will be so stunned by the service that they will hand over their credit card without comment.
Well, I'm glad we got that off my chest.
Godspeed fellow travelers
Don
Friday, April 24, 2009
What a week it has been.
Several weeks ago a competitor in the industry in which I work contacted me about taking a similar role with their company. The considerations were the usual suspects, better pay, better job description, less travel. But, let's face it, it was a competitor. so instead of looking for their weaknesses, I had to consider all their strengths and as I discovered, they are many.
So Sunday walking around an antique with my bride I got the call to finalize the deal, so I closed the deal. I was leaving the next day for California and had decided to turn in my resignation first thing Monday morning. Only problem was the owner didn't show up. Agonized the rest of the day, told the comptroller, who promptly shut off my access to the computer..no blogs.
Marched in the next morning, waited an hour until the owner showed up and promptly told him I was resigning. He as most gracious, he wanted to know all about the position I was taking, he was very complimentary and wished to stay friends.
We are not even to the hard part. I asked if I could stroll through the building and tell the folks who worked for me that I was leaving. He just ask I stop back by before leaving the building. Shock by the folks in Design, but all of them were old ready-to-wear folks and were used to the coming and going of staff. Then I needed to tell the folks in the customer service area, who all worked for me. Tears all around, hugs, distress, I felt terrible. I kills me to make people sad, particularly people that I care a great deal for.
Walked out of the building at 10:30AM, drove to a major account in the L.A. area and met up with the folks at the new job, went to my first meeting at 2:00PM. As I did so, I remembered the words I had spoken to another work associate several years before when he decided to switch companies..."Take a day or two, perhaps a long weekend, to clear your head, to get your attitude right..." I didn't even have lunch.
Thursday morning at the new headquarters in Dallas. Got there early, couldn't get in, sat in my truck and drank the last of my Starbucks.
Then spent the day meeting people, strained smiles, everyone trying to get a read on each other. Is this guy going to be someone who is good to work with, or will he be a horse's hind end? More importantly, how will this affect my job? Will he make it easier or harder? Sort of a relational sigh or eye roll.
It went fine, I strolled and introduced myself. After the lunch the president realized I had made the rounds without official introduction, i think he felt a little embarrassed by that. No big deal, I know how to work a room.
I suspect my 15 minutes of introduction are up, now on to work.
Anyway, new bend in the road, should be fun.
Godspeed.
Don
Several weeks ago a competitor in the industry in which I work contacted me about taking a similar role with their company. The considerations were the usual suspects, better pay, better job description, less travel. But, let's face it, it was a competitor. so instead of looking for their weaknesses, I had to consider all their strengths and as I discovered, they are many.
So Sunday walking around an antique with my bride I got the call to finalize the deal, so I closed the deal. I was leaving the next day for California and had decided to turn in my resignation first thing Monday morning. Only problem was the owner didn't show up. Agonized the rest of the day, told the comptroller, who promptly shut off my access to the computer..no blogs.
Marched in the next morning, waited an hour until the owner showed up and promptly told him I was resigning. He as most gracious, he wanted to know all about the position I was taking, he was very complimentary and wished to stay friends.
We are not even to the hard part. I asked if I could stroll through the building and tell the folks who worked for me that I was leaving. He just ask I stop back by before leaving the building. Shock by the folks in Design, but all of them were old ready-to-wear folks and were used to the coming and going of staff. Then I needed to tell the folks in the customer service area, who all worked for me. Tears all around, hugs, distress, I felt terrible. I kills me to make people sad, particularly people that I care a great deal for.
Walked out of the building at 10:30AM, drove to a major account in the L.A. area and met up with the folks at the new job, went to my first meeting at 2:00PM. As I did so, I remembered the words I had spoken to another work associate several years before when he decided to switch companies..."Take a day or two, perhaps a long weekend, to clear your head, to get your attitude right..." I didn't even have lunch.
Thursday morning at the new headquarters in Dallas. Got there early, couldn't get in, sat in my truck and drank the last of my Starbucks.
Then spent the day meeting people, strained smiles, everyone trying to get a read on each other. Is this guy going to be someone who is good to work with, or will he be a horse's hind end? More importantly, how will this affect my job? Will he make it easier or harder? Sort of a relational sigh or eye roll.
It went fine, I strolled and introduced myself. After the lunch the president realized I had made the rounds without official introduction, i think he felt a little embarrassed by that. No big deal, I know how to work a room.
I suspect my 15 minutes of introduction are up, now on to work.
Anyway, new bend in the road, should be fun.
Godspeed.
Don
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Both Sides
While on a business trip to Boston, I flew in late and caught a shuttle from the airport to the hotel. I don't really know Boston all that well, we took a fun trip there several years ago and loved it, but I don't know the good parts from the dangerous parts, so I rode along in blissful ignorance.
When we pulled up to the front of the hotel it was nice enough, Marriott Courtyard, with a open-air mall in front. Big anchor stores like Home Depot, Old Navy, Target, and others were just out the front door. Usual hassles checking in, computer down, sent me to a room that hadn't been cleaned, re-roomed to another towards the back of the hotel. Tried to order room service, but had to go down to the restaurant to get the order (tip is getting more stingy as each inconvenience occurred) But all in all, the hotel was okay.
Settled into my room with my dinner, opened the curtains to look out over the view of South Boston and realized the back of the hotel opened out to a very rugged neighborhood. Rusting warehouses, interspersed with small, run-down frame houses, with an occasional church steeple poking above the skyline. A neighborhood where I would drive out on the rim if I had a flat.
It occurred to me that this "view" could describe our lives. We look at the front and all is clean, and pretty and accessible. We assume the rest of the world looks like this. We look at the front of other's marriages, or careers, or relationships at church or business or family and see the clean, pretty, well maintained portions of their lives. We realize this doesn't match the bifurcation of our lives, that we (unlike them) live a blend of pretty and ugly, noble and mundane, safe and hazardous
We wonder what is wrong with us that our lives are not the open air mall or the pretty hotel, but the cracked pavement and rusted chain-link fences.
So we try harder to make the ugly part look prettier than it really is. We try to convince others and maybe ourselves that we live in the fantasy world of Pollyanna (look it up young folks)
How fortunate it is to reach a point in life where we can stand in the security of the hotel room and understand that the hotel has both a Front and a Back. Somewhere in the middle, or perhaps somewhere in our understanding is the fact that one can be mugged in the parking lot in front of Old Navy, and find noble kindness in the dark and scary streets behind the hotel.
I think our spiritual lives, at their core is an attempt to understand this dichotomy. Real evil interacting with ultimate good. Good doesn't always win, but it doesn't always lose either. We carry the tension between these two worlds wherever we go. we struggle with the understanding that both are always in our midst.
Moments of true insight help me stay balanced, to see people as they really are, never always good or always bad, but struggling somewhere in between.
I feel sorry for the people who got a room at the front of the hotel, they have seen only half the world, and live in the mistaken comfort of their one-dimensional view.
Anyway, I slept great, 4 floors up, locked behind a nice, thick door. I only said I was happy for the insight, not really ready to do anything with it.
Godspeed
Don
When we pulled up to the front of the hotel it was nice enough, Marriott Courtyard, with a open-air mall in front. Big anchor stores like Home Depot, Old Navy, Target, and others were just out the front door. Usual hassles checking in, computer down, sent me to a room that hadn't been cleaned, re-roomed to another towards the back of the hotel. Tried to order room service, but had to go down to the restaurant to get the order (tip is getting more stingy as each inconvenience occurred) But all in all, the hotel was okay.
Settled into my room with my dinner, opened the curtains to look out over the view of South Boston and realized the back of the hotel opened out to a very rugged neighborhood. Rusting warehouses, interspersed with small, run-down frame houses, with an occasional church steeple poking above the skyline. A neighborhood where I would drive out on the rim if I had a flat.
It occurred to me that this "view" could describe our lives. We look at the front and all is clean, and pretty and accessible. We assume the rest of the world looks like this. We look at the front of other's marriages, or careers, or relationships at church or business or family and see the clean, pretty, well maintained portions of their lives. We realize this doesn't match the bifurcation of our lives, that we (unlike them) live a blend of pretty and ugly, noble and mundane, safe and hazardous
We wonder what is wrong with us that our lives are not the open air mall or the pretty hotel, but the cracked pavement and rusted chain-link fences.
So we try harder to make the ugly part look prettier than it really is. We try to convince others and maybe ourselves that we live in the fantasy world of Pollyanna (look it up young folks)
How fortunate it is to reach a point in life where we can stand in the security of the hotel room and understand that the hotel has both a Front and a Back. Somewhere in the middle, or perhaps somewhere in our understanding is the fact that one can be mugged in the parking lot in front of Old Navy, and find noble kindness in the dark and scary streets behind the hotel.
I think our spiritual lives, at their core is an attempt to understand this dichotomy. Real evil interacting with ultimate good. Good doesn't always win, but it doesn't always lose either. We carry the tension between these two worlds wherever we go. we struggle with the understanding that both are always in our midst.
Moments of true insight help me stay balanced, to see people as they really are, never always good or always bad, but struggling somewhere in between.
I feel sorry for the people who got a room at the front of the hotel, they have seen only half the world, and live in the mistaken comfort of their one-dimensional view.
Anyway, I slept great, 4 floors up, locked behind a nice, thick door. I only said I was happy for the insight, not really ready to do anything with it.
Godspeed
Don
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
The Tax Man Cometh
April 15th, a day of infamy. I actually did my taxes early this year, I mailed them yesterday. Yes, that counts as early. April 15th is on time, April 15th at 11:30PM is pushing it.
This event creates indescribable panic for me. Oh, it is not the paying of taxes, it is not the filling out the forms, it is not the mailing of the return...it is the gathering of the data. You see, my bride and I are both "stackers." we would much rather be doing fun stuff, creative stuff, interesting stuff, than finding the right file for the exact bill, or invoice, or EOB from insurance companies. Consequently, when I try to find the information for health, real estate taxes, or anything else, I stand in front of a towering stack of forms and bills, and my heart sinks.
I'm even a stacker in my business life and in the cyber world. I answer every email (eventually) which is a challenge because I receive 60-70 a day. So my inbox can get up to 400 or so open emails, stacked as it were, before I get panicky enough to "file" them. I could spend an hour a day just filing emails and still not have what the ladies in the call center refer to as "white paper" or open space at the bottom of the email list.
I know where stuff is..generally speaking, and I remember very well what is on it. It is the act of placing my hands on it that creates in me a huge sigh of frustration.
Why can't the IRS simply take my word for it that what I am telling them is true and accurate? We should have a line on the 1040, somewhere near the top...
Are you a stacker? How many stackers are in your family? Do you have someone in your life who is not a stacker who can verify all this information? If not, are you honest enough that we can trust you?
This may be why I am such a fan of a federal sales tax, the angst would fall on those who sell us stuff, not those of us who invest back in the economy as liberally as we do.
I could resolve to do better this year, but I know myself well enough to know, that while other people have a hard time fooling me.. I can fool me every time. It ain't gonna happen. I am comfortable with being a stacker, what I need is for my bride to suddenly have a huge apocalyptic, conversion event that turns her into a sorter, the opposite of a stacker.
Yes, I like that solution much better.
Godspeed to all you sorters and stackers.
Don
This event creates indescribable panic for me. Oh, it is not the paying of taxes, it is not the filling out the forms, it is not the mailing of the return...it is the gathering of the data. You see, my bride and I are both "stackers." we would much rather be doing fun stuff, creative stuff, interesting stuff, than finding the right file for the exact bill, or invoice, or EOB from insurance companies. Consequently, when I try to find the information for health, real estate taxes, or anything else, I stand in front of a towering stack of forms and bills, and my heart sinks.
I'm even a stacker in my business life and in the cyber world. I answer every email (eventually) which is a challenge because I receive 60-70 a day. So my inbox can get up to 400 or so open emails, stacked as it were, before I get panicky enough to "file" them. I could spend an hour a day just filing emails and still not have what the ladies in the call center refer to as "white paper" or open space at the bottom of the email list.
I know where stuff is..generally speaking, and I remember very well what is on it. It is the act of placing my hands on it that creates in me a huge sigh of frustration.
Why can't the IRS simply take my word for it that what I am telling them is true and accurate? We should have a line on the 1040, somewhere near the top...
Are you a stacker? How many stackers are in your family? Do you have someone in your life who is not a stacker who can verify all this information? If not, are you honest enough that we can trust you?
This may be why I am such a fan of a federal sales tax, the angst would fall on those who sell us stuff, not those of us who invest back in the economy as liberally as we do.
I could resolve to do better this year, but I know myself well enough to know, that while other people have a hard time fooling me.. I can fool me every time. It ain't gonna happen. I am comfortable with being a stacker, what I need is for my bride to suddenly have a huge apocalyptic, conversion event that turns her into a sorter, the opposite of a stacker.
Yes, I like that solution much better.
Godspeed to all you sorters and stackers.
Don
Monday, April 13, 2009
Easter on the High Plains
This weekend we made the trek to Amarillo to visit the grandkids (and the kids, yes, they are important too) Our daughter did not tell the grandkids that we were coming. So when we showed up at the door, Phoebe grabbed her Nena and hugged and hugged, laughing, kissing her Nena, I had to grab her with both hands, plant a foot in Nena's mid-section and yank with all my might to get a hug...then back to Nena. So we walked next door to the neighbors to retrieve Eli. The neighbors have one of those front doors that have a glass panel on each side of the door frame, so when the kids answered the door, and the front door lock was not responding, I could hear Eli on the other side, yelling (as usual) "It's Grandaddy! It's Grandaddy!" Now I'm trying to help with the door from the outside. Let me say, no one greets us with such unabashed enthusiasm as those two. For the first few minutes it is always a hug-fest, holding close those wriggling little guys, drinking in the nearness.
Of course the opposite end of the weekend was equally emotional.
We were celebrating Nena's birthday and the neighbor dog wandered over. Our S-i-L let him in the house which brought a new level of shrieking from Phoebe (she loves puppies) and a certain amount of running through the house, chasing the dog, Eli attempting to tackle the dog, Phoebe trying to pet him. So, eventually the dog was shown the door, which reduced Phoebe to a crying heap. Crying, asking for "shoes! Shoes!" so she could follow outside. To make matters worse, we were packing up to leave. Again, the clinging to Nena and crying. Let me say, I have never experienced a more slobbery, snotty goodbye kiss than that one. Eli on the other hand was pointing out that he didn't have school the next day. Nena said that may be true, but she DID have school the next day. Well...why can't she leave Grandaddy and pick him up later? I love the way the little guy's mind works.
Long, quiet drive home. well, except for the hailstorm in Childress, and again near Quannah.
Where we do we lose that emotional ability? Why are we so afraid of the roller-coaster? I know it is a mark of maturity that we can be all adult and calm and all that. But I kind of miss the exuberance, the sheer thrill of seeing someone I miss so much, and being able to express it in such a way that leaves no doubt about my feelings.
On another note, I met a lady who actually responds to My blog and she gave me a big hug. It was great to meet her, now when she responds it will be friends talking. Met another lady who reads my blog "occasionally" I am a little overwhelmed with that prospect, that people I don't know and haven't met are looking into my thoughts and ideas and questions.
So here I am, home again, road-weary, heart-warmed, and writing again.
Godspeed
Don
Of course the opposite end of the weekend was equally emotional.
We were celebrating Nena's birthday and the neighbor dog wandered over. Our S-i-L let him in the house which brought a new level of shrieking from Phoebe (she loves puppies) and a certain amount of running through the house, chasing the dog, Eli attempting to tackle the dog, Phoebe trying to pet him. So, eventually the dog was shown the door, which reduced Phoebe to a crying heap. Crying, asking for "shoes! Shoes!" so she could follow outside. To make matters worse, we were packing up to leave. Again, the clinging to Nena and crying. Let me say, I have never experienced a more slobbery, snotty goodbye kiss than that one. Eli on the other hand was pointing out that he didn't have school the next day. Nena said that may be true, but she DID have school the next day. Well...why can't she leave Grandaddy and pick him up later? I love the way the little guy's mind works.
Long, quiet drive home. well, except for the hailstorm in Childress, and again near Quannah.
Where we do we lose that emotional ability? Why are we so afraid of the roller-coaster? I know it is a mark of maturity that we can be all adult and calm and all that. But I kind of miss the exuberance, the sheer thrill of seeing someone I miss so much, and being able to express it in such a way that leaves no doubt about my feelings.
On another note, I met a lady who actually responds to My blog and she gave me a big hug. It was great to meet her, now when she responds it will be friends talking. Met another lady who reads my blog "occasionally" I am a little overwhelmed with that prospect, that people I don't know and haven't met are looking into my thoughts and ideas and questions.
So here I am, home again, road-weary, heart-warmed, and writing again.
Godspeed
Don
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Ties That Bind
Families are a blessing...most of the time. It is one of the organisms that can be viewed from the outside and completely misinterpreted by those observing. I think intellectually we understand that not all is as it seems, but we get tricked by the visual evidence to the contrary. Nice stuff, big smiles are simply a veneer that thinly covers the insecurities, the grudges, the uneven treatment of family members.
This is especially true in the resolution of an estate of any member of the member. It simply rips the veneer away and exposes all the ugly truths. Anger over events from decades past comes bounding out of the abyss that had been carefully hidden. Gracious treatment of one family member is rationalized while railroading another member simply because they are less pleasant to deal with, or are perceived to not have the wherewithal to defend themselves. Squabbling, accusations, em battlement are the order of the day, all wrapped in the mourning of a loved one.
Why is this so common? At a time when the family should be coalesced into a united front, shouldering the pain and uncertainty of each other, mourning and remembering together, it instead turns into a time of accusations and covert conversations and combative confrontations.
It can't be the "stuff" can it? Aren't we more mature than that? Why are we so willing to sacrifice the life-long relationships to settle out the estate? I've about decided that the ties that bind are the ugly side of this event. At this point in time, no one else will have us. We are forced together because all the stuff has to be disseminated. Are we really willing to destroy a relationship, right when we need it most, because of a few dollars? Can we move the decimal place enough either way to ransom the family? I'm here to tell you this moment in time brings out the true, gritty, gutty parts of a family. It reveals the true nature of people, if you thought someone was greedy and self-centered, it comes out now. If a person is a true peace-maker, it comes out now, if a bully - now, if a marginalized family member - now. I have decided that the spirit of generosity is a built-in chip, we either have it or we don't. This is especially true in a family mourning a loved one lost.
I think I will give all my stuff away just before I die. All I will have left are the skivvies I'm wearing (the final act of true love, to be wearing skivvies when they find me)
Oh well, Godspeed out there.
Hug your loved ones now, before the settlement of the estate.
Don
This is especially true in the resolution of an estate of any member of the member. It simply rips the veneer away and exposes all the ugly truths. Anger over events from decades past comes bounding out of the abyss that had been carefully hidden. Gracious treatment of one family member is rationalized while railroading another member simply because they are less pleasant to deal with, or are perceived to not have the wherewithal to defend themselves. Squabbling, accusations, em battlement are the order of the day, all wrapped in the mourning of a loved one.
Why is this so common? At a time when the family should be coalesced into a united front, shouldering the pain and uncertainty of each other, mourning and remembering together, it instead turns into a time of accusations and covert conversations and combative confrontations.
It can't be the "stuff" can it? Aren't we more mature than that? Why are we so willing to sacrifice the life-long relationships to settle out the estate? I've about decided that the ties that bind are the ugly side of this event. At this point in time, no one else will have us. We are forced together because all the stuff has to be disseminated. Are we really willing to destroy a relationship, right when we need it most, because of a few dollars? Can we move the decimal place enough either way to ransom the family? I'm here to tell you this moment in time brings out the true, gritty, gutty parts of a family. It reveals the true nature of people, if you thought someone was greedy and self-centered, it comes out now. If a person is a true peace-maker, it comes out now, if a bully - now, if a marginalized family member - now. I have decided that the spirit of generosity is a built-in chip, we either have it or we don't. This is especially true in a family mourning a loved one lost.
I think I will give all my stuff away just before I die. All I will have left are the skivvies I'm wearing (the final act of true love, to be wearing skivvies when they find me)
Oh well, Godspeed out there.
Hug your loved ones now, before the settlement of the estate.
Don
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