Here's a short but important thought...someof the most powerful estate planning tools involve giving away your assets now, whether outright to beneficiaries or more likely in structured vehicles that move them out of your estate but still give you some (or a lot of) benefit. If your estate is one that is likely to see estate tax when you die (currently estates over $3.5 million net value), using your lifetime gift tax credits to make gifts now instead of later is often a good idea. It works well because the assets continue to appreciate but their values for gift/estate taxes will be the values at the time you make the gift.
It works well in good times, but now, with stocks at 50-60% of their previous values, and homes and investment properties at 60-80% of their previous values, the gifts you make give you more bang for your buck.
The names for some of these types of strategies are: Grantor Retained Income Trusts (GRITs), Qualified Personal Residence Trusts (QPRTs), Grantor Retained Annuity Trusts (GRATs), Grantor Retained Unitrusts (GRUTs) and Intentionally Defective Grantor Trusts (IDGTs). Yes, "defective" is part of the name, but in this case it's the kind of defect that's good for you. There are also still opportunities with Family Limited Partnerships (FLPs).
Review your estate plan with an experienced attorney (ours are always available) and get a list of all the planning opportunities you have--you'll be pleasantly surprised, and happy you did it before you lose this valuable opportunity.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Dr. Bob Pierce
One of the things that reminds me I'm getting older is being reminded that my parents are getting older. They were in town last weekend for my dad's 50th high school reunion--he's part of the class of 1958 from Pasadena High School. In fairness to them, they don't seem nearly that old. He brought old photos from then, with some great slicked-up hair. Another one was a photo of my mom's 1959 Arcadia High School class. We were able to find her, so she hasn't aged much either, I guess. She pointed out some of her friends in the class, including Sharon Pierce. I'd heard her name before as someone she remembered fondly. I'd wondered, though, why they weren't in touch now.
Sharon Pierce's father, Dr. Bob Pierce, is indirectly responsible for my being in the estate planning and probate field. After a tour of impoverished parts of post-World War II Asia, he was determined to alleviate the suffering he saw there, and founded the World Vision charity to accomplish this in 1950. He was a dynamic man, and traveled the world looking for more people to help--his famous quote is "Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God." His truly was, and his work has today has reached tens of millions of people. My grandfather Lee Bernard was anxious to work with him and asked for a job--Pierce told him the only one available was as director of planned giving/estate planning, something Grandpa knew nothing about. Pierce was nothing if not dynamic and persuasive, and told him he'd be perfect for it. It probably helped that Pierce was a spiritual giant to him, much like Billy Graham, another man he'd worked for.
With a lot of early learning on the job, he indeed turned out to be perfect for it, left Kansas City for Arcadia in 1958, and stayed with World Vision until 1972, when he formed his company to do the same type of work on a freelance basis for charities. It was the family business until my parents retired from it. I had a difficult time figuring out what the business was about until I worked there in high school and college, but the family conversations and numerous charity banquets had their effect, as I didn't (and still don't) find any legal work more interesting than probate and trusts--whether families are fighting or harmonious, finding solutions is very satisfying work.
The discussion last weekend led me to look up more about World Vision's early days, and I came across a book written by Pierce's daughter Marilee, Man of Vision. It helped bring the man and his incredible work to life, but also dealt with the pain to his family by his being away from them so much doing that work. It led to the deterioration of his marriage, and his three daughters needing more love and approval from a father they didn't know very well. One of them, Sharon, took her life in 1968 after keeping much of her personal pain from her family. My mother has never talked about this part of her friend's life. A few days before he died in 1978, the Pierce family reunited for the last time with an open, honest, healing discussion to help heal their wounds. The reconciling came too late for Sharon. It didn't for the rest of the family, and is a further inspiration for other hurting and broken families--I see hurting and broken families every day.
Sharon Pierce's father, Dr. Bob Pierce, is indirectly responsible for my being in the estate planning and probate field. After a tour of impoverished parts of post-World War II Asia, he was determined to alleviate the suffering he saw there, and founded the World Vision charity to accomplish this in 1950. He was a dynamic man, and traveled the world looking for more people to help--his famous quote is "Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God." His truly was, and his work has today has reached tens of millions of people. My grandfather Lee Bernard was anxious to work with him and asked for a job--Pierce told him the only one available was as director of planned giving/estate planning, something Grandpa knew nothing about. Pierce was nothing if not dynamic and persuasive, and told him he'd be perfect for it. It probably helped that Pierce was a spiritual giant to him, much like Billy Graham, another man he'd worked for.
With a lot of early learning on the job, he indeed turned out to be perfect for it, left Kansas City for Arcadia in 1958, and stayed with World Vision until 1972, when he formed his company to do the same type of work on a freelance basis for charities. It was the family business until my parents retired from it. I had a difficult time figuring out what the business was about until I worked there in high school and college, but the family conversations and numerous charity banquets had their effect, as I didn't (and still don't) find any legal work more interesting than probate and trusts--whether families are fighting or harmonious, finding solutions is very satisfying work.
The discussion last weekend led me to look up more about World Vision's early days, and I came across a book written by Pierce's daughter Marilee, Man of Vision. It helped bring the man and his incredible work to life, but also dealt with the pain to his family by his being away from them so much doing that work. It led to the deterioration of his marriage, and his three daughters needing more love and approval from a father they didn't know very well. One of them, Sharon, took her life in 1968 after keeping much of her personal pain from her family. My mother has never talked about this part of her friend's life. A few days before he died in 1978, the Pierce family reunited for the last time with an open, honest, healing discussion to help heal their wounds. The reconciling came too late for Sharon. It didn't for the rest of the family, and is a further inspiration for other hurting and broken families--I see hurting and broken families every day.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Think about your gifts
Before I was old enough to know who the architects behind it were, I was an enormous fan of modern architecture. Later in my reading I discovered the names: Wright, Le Corbusier, Johnson, Lautner and especially Neutra. Glass walls retracting to bring in the outside, fountains and pools inside and out, houses on the edges of hills--these were the kinds of things I wanted to have, build and live in. Their clean, simple lines were turned into works of art by the photographer Julius Shulman. His camera seemed to love the architecture of Neutra, and over the years I've collected many books with his photos of Neutra houses.
Most of Neutra's work was for clients building their personal homes, so photos were as close as I thought I'd come to seeing his work (except for a few nondescript facades in the Valley, mostly covered with foliage). His remaining houses are in private hands, and more are destroyed as the years go by. And my dream of owning one is probably out of reach now too, as the recent modern craze has people restoring them (which I appreciate) and purchasing them at stratospheric prices (which I don't appreciate). I am fortunate to live in a historic landmark somewhat inspired by Neutra, but was lucky enough to purchase it before its value soars stratospherically (wishful thinking).
I was excited to see, then, that this year the architect's own home, the VDL Research House II, in Silverlake, would be open for tours on the weekends, with just a $10 charge. The house was left to Cal Poly Pomona University in 1990 by the architect's widow with the hope that it would be open to the public and used for architectural teaching and study. It has occasionally been open on tours since then, but access has, to my understanding, been mostly for private university functions and use by the architecture faculty/students.
I took the tour, and it was an amazing experience. Mostly because it wasn't the roped-off, limited access, Plexiglas-covered historical house tour, but it was a walk through the house with complete access, in the condition it pretty much was when he lived there. Once the tour was over, we were free to stay and wander around the house and take it all in. Maybe another Neutra-geek's thrill has matched mine that day, but I doubt it.
At the same time, it's a bit sad, seeing all the work the house needs--it has the same maintenance issues our houses all have...there hasn't been water in the reflecting pools for a long time because they leak. The roof leaks in several places, evidenced outside by the blue tarp and inside by the loose plaster on the ceiling. The elaborate lighting systems are off. The floors are stained. The giant louvers at the front haven't worked for years. All those fantastic machined metal surfaces could use some polishing.
The website devoted to the house explains why, and perhaps the reason for the new public access--the $100,000 left by the widow to cover expenses ran out quickly, and the school's administration (not its faculty or students) has apparently seen the house as more of a bother than an asset. It survived on a small $10,000 budget per year, with architecture professors fortunate enough to live in the guesthouse and maintain the home. Then that funding dried up, and "Friends of the VDL House" have been scrambling to raise funds to prevent its sale to a private party. They've raised the initial $30,000 to keep it open, and are now working on the $1,000,000 needed by the end of next year to fund the endowment to keep it open perpetually and make the necessary repairs. I've already donated, and I'm sure they'll get more money from me too. It's one of L.A.'s treasures--take a look at www.neutra-vdl.org. Even if they're not successful in raising the money, it's all the more reason to get a look before it's sold to a private collector for an unheard-of price.
As an estate planner, I wished I could have had the input on the original plan by the architect's wife, Dione Neutra. She had the best of intentions, and most likely talked them over with the recipient, but somewhere the plan went wrong. It's planning for the "Plan B" what-ifs that distinguish a good plan from a great plan, as life has a way of working out differently than your plans. Just ask the families of the people who left their treasures to the state parks system and now hear we have to prepare for wide-scale park closures. By the way, I didn't get my law degree and license until four years after Mrs. Neutra's death, so I wouldn't have had the opportunity to advise her anyway, and my youthful inexperience wouldn't have helped either.
Speaking of youthful inexperience, I can remember one of the first wills I drafted where the client was so happy to leave his house to his granddaughter and her new husband. Shortly after he died, I found out they didn't really want it because he'd mortgaged it to the limit to buy cars, home additions, a gi-normous pool, and the list goes on--they felt they couldn't afford the monthly payments that came with the otherwise humble house. And then there was the recently released (from prison) son, who thought he should have the house, moved in, and didn't want to hear otherwise. I didn't have the guts then to ask him what he'd been in for, but I knew he'd been away a long time, he was a big guy and the rest of the family was afraid of him. He was civil to me in my office, but he also didn't understand that the money to pay the mortgage had to come from somewhere, and now that his father died and the pension was gone, there was no money to pay it. The house was lost to foreclosure, and the family split up the client's once-fancy cars by then dessicated in the hot L.A. sun.
Then there's the island off British Columbia left to Orange Coast College in 2002. They held classes there for a time, and thought of a research facility, but soon worried about the $200,000 in annual maintenance costs and the logic of having a campus "1,200 miles away in a foreign country" as they put it. It was sold this year for $2.19 million to some Canadians excited to have it.
Fans of Huell Howser (aren't we all?) may remember the show he did at the Petersen Automotive Museum which included a peek at all the cars in storage that may never be displayed.
With careful planning, these results can be avoided--not always, but often.
Most of Neutra's work was for clients building their personal homes, so photos were as close as I thought I'd come to seeing his work (except for a few nondescript facades in the Valley, mostly covered with foliage). His remaining houses are in private hands, and more are destroyed as the years go by. And my dream of owning one is probably out of reach now too, as the recent modern craze has people restoring them (which I appreciate) and purchasing them at stratospheric prices (which I don't appreciate). I am fortunate to live in a historic landmark somewhat inspired by Neutra, but was lucky enough to purchase it before its value soars stratospherically (wishful thinking).
I was excited to see, then, that this year the architect's own home, the VDL Research House II, in Silverlake, would be open for tours on the weekends, with just a $10 charge. The house was left to Cal Poly Pomona University in 1990 by the architect's widow with the hope that it would be open to the public and used for architectural teaching and study. It has occasionally been open on tours since then, but access has, to my understanding, been mostly for private university functions and use by the architecture faculty/students.
I took the tour, and it was an amazing experience. Mostly because it wasn't the roped-off, limited access, Plexiglas-covered historical house tour, but it was a walk through the house with complete access, in the condition it pretty much was when he lived there. Once the tour was over, we were free to stay and wander around the house and take it all in. Maybe another Neutra-geek's thrill has matched mine that day, but I doubt it.
At the same time, it's a bit sad, seeing all the work the house needs--it has the same maintenance issues our houses all have...there hasn't been water in the reflecting pools for a long time because they leak. The roof leaks in several places, evidenced outside by the blue tarp and inside by the loose plaster on the ceiling. The elaborate lighting systems are off. The floors are stained. The giant louvers at the front haven't worked for years. All those fantastic machined metal surfaces could use some polishing.
The website devoted to the house explains why, and perhaps the reason for the new public access--the $100,000 left by the widow to cover expenses ran out quickly, and the school's administration (not its faculty or students) has apparently seen the house as more of a bother than an asset. It survived on a small $10,000 budget per year, with architecture professors fortunate enough to live in the guesthouse and maintain the home. Then that funding dried up, and "Friends of the VDL House" have been scrambling to raise funds to prevent its sale to a private party. They've raised the initial $30,000 to keep it open, and are now working on the $1,000,000 needed by the end of next year to fund the endowment to keep it open perpetually and make the necessary repairs. I've already donated, and I'm sure they'll get more money from me too. It's one of L.A.'s treasures--take a look at www.neutra-vdl.org. Even if they're not successful in raising the money, it's all the more reason to get a look before it's sold to a private collector for an unheard-of price.
As an estate planner, I wished I could have had the input on the original plan by the architect's wife, Dione Neutra. She had the best of intentions, and most likely talked them over with the recipient, but somewhere the plan went wrong. It's planning for the "Plan B" what-ifs that distinguish a good plan from a great plan, as life has a way of working out differently than your plans. Just ask the families of the people who left their treasures to the state parks system and now hear we have to prepare for wide-scale park closures. By the way, I didn't get my law degree and license until four years after Mrs. Neutra's death, so I wouldn't have had the opportunity to advise her anyway, and my youthful inexperience wouldn't have helped either.
Speaking of youthful inexperience, I can remember one of the first wills I drafted where the client was so happy to leave his house to his granddaughter and her new husband. Shortly after he died, I found out they didn't really want it because he'd mortgaged it to the limit to buy cars, home additions, a gi-normous pool, and the list goes on--they felt they couldn't afford the monthly payments that came with the otherwise humble house. And then there was the recently released (from prison) son, who thought he should have the house, moved in, and didn't want to hear otherwise. I didn't have the guts then to ask him what he'd been in for, but I knew he'd been away a long time, he was a big guy and the rest of the family was afraid of him. He was civil to me in my office, but he also didn't understand that the money to pay the mortgage had to come from somewhere, and now that his father died and the pension was gone, there was no money to pay it. The house was lost to foreclosure, and the family split up the client's once-fancy cars by then dessicated in the hot L.A. sun.
Then there's the island off British Columbia left to Orange Coast College in 2002. They held classes there for a time, and thought of a research facility, but soon worried about the $200,000 in annual maintenance costs and the logic of having a campus "1,200 miles away in a foreign country" as they put it. It was sold this year for $2.19 million to some Canadians excited to have it.
Fans of Huell Howser (aren't we all?) may remember the show he did at the Petersen Automotive Museum which included a peek at all the cars in storage that may never be displayed.
With careful planning, these results can be avoided--not always, but often.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Fulfillment of the law
I came across a verse today in church that stayed with me all day, from Romans 13:9, 10: "The commandments, 'Do not commit adultery,' 'Do not murder,' Do not steal,' 'Do not covet,' and whatever other commandment there may be, are summed up in this one rule: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law."
For me there's no better way to sum up the ultimate advice: Love does no harm to its neighbor. If people lived by that, or at least made better efforts to do so, what a much better place this world would be. That cuts out quite a few of the things we do, our governments do, our religions do, our societal structures do. There's a lot of justifications made for harming our neighbors, but in the end they're justifications for actions that lead to more violence, hatred, greed and heartache.
They also give me a job. I can't believe some of the awful things people do to each other, especially family. I'm still amazed when I hear stories of trusted family members looting others' inheritances, or even stealing it while the owner's still alive and wasting away under shockingly awful care. Love does no harm to its neighbor. And there's not much wiggle room, as "neighbor" pretty much includes everybody. Whatever one's religious belief, if any, it seems difficult to argue with this idea.
Once damage has been done, and redress is sought in the courtroom, lawyers prepare the case for trial, as they should. However, the best solutions are reached before trial, especially in mediation, after both sides consider the position of the other. If respect, and the possibility of reconciliation, are given, resolution is possible. With the idea of doing no harm to your neighbor, the best, and even the most advantageous, solutions happen.
For me there's no better way to sum up the ultimate advice: Love does no harm to its neighbor. If people lived by that, or at least made better efforts to do so, what a much better place this world would be. That cuts out quite a few of the things we do, our governments do, our religions do, our societal structures do. There's a lot of justifications made for harming our neighbors, but in the end they're justifications for actions that lead to more violence, hatred, greed and heartache.
They also give me a job. I can't believe some of the awful things people do to each other, especially family. I'm still amazed when I hear stories of trusted family members looting others' inheritances, or even stealing it while the owner's still alive and wasting away under shockingly awful care. Love does no harm to its neighbor. And there's not much wiggle room, as "neighbor" pretty much includes everybody. Whatever one's religious belief, if any, it seems difficult to argue with this idea.
Once damage has been done, and redress is sought in the courtroom, lawyers prepare the case for trial, as they should. However, the best solutions are reached before trial, especially in mediation, after both sides consider the position of the other. If respect, and the possibility of reconciliation, are given, resolution is possible. With the idea of doing no harm to your neighbor, the best, and even the most advantageous, solutions happen.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Grandma
This entry's a bit more personal--we've been dealing with our own end-of-life issues and trust administration in my family, with my grandmother dying this June. In addition to being a loving grandmother who always encouraged me, she was a great example of love and generosity to the community. She outlived almost all of her many friends, and her ability to volunteer at her Bethany Church in Sierra Madre (attending since 1948), and even her regular visitors from the church to pray with her didn't know her before they came to visit.
We sometimes wondered why she fought so hard to stay on Earth as long as she did, seeing as how life could be so difficult in her last years. She stayed optimistic until the end, and lucid and engaged until the end. The 24-hour caregivers required over the last year came to value her energy and optimism as much as the family did. I think she was hoping to be around for her fifth great-grandchild's birth, and she almost made it.
I also think she appreciated life quite a bit--she had a difficult childhood but I had no idea until hearing her stories much later as an adult. Instead of making her pessimistic and bitter, it made her stronger and more compassionate.
Below is the column my cousin Jeff Girod, her third grandchild, wrote shortly after her death.
We sometimes wondered why she fought so hard to stay on Earth as long as she did, seeing as how life could be so difficult in her last years. She stayed optimistic until the end, and lucid and engaged until the end. The 24-hour caregivers required over the last year came to value her energy and optimism as much as the family did. I think she was hoping to be around for her fifth great-grandchild's birth, and she almost made it.
I also think she appreciated life quite a bit--she had a difficult childhood but I had no idea until hearing her stories much later as an adult. Instead of making her pessimistic and bitter, it made her stronger and more compassionate.
Below is the column my cousin Jeff Girod, her third grandchild, wrote shortly after her death.
09:42 PM PDT on Saturday, June 28, 2008
Evelyn Margaret Millett Johnson saw the dawning of 90 winters, springs and summers -- longer than any of us had the right to ask for or imagine.
She far exceeded the expectations of even her own mother, who reflexively scoffed when Evelyn, still a child, asked, "Mommy, will I live to the year 2000?"
That's when Evelyn's mother, still reaching to put something in a cupboard, hesitated, turned and thoughtfully reconsidered.
Story continues below
Special to The Press-Enterprise
Columnist Jeff Girod helps his grandmother Eveyln Johnson celebrate her 90th Christmas last year.
"Well," she said. "Maybe."
There were very few "maybes" in Evelyn's long and steady life. She would either find a way or she'd make one.
Evelyn was a "women's libber" long before anyone thought to invent the term. She drove a taxi, led Bible classes at her church and ran the tightest of ships as the business manager of a local medical center.
It was about this time I met Evelyn, or "Grandma" as I started calling her, once I was old enough to form the word.
The bigger I grew, the smaller Grandma seemed. No longer was she the authoritarian and last-minute baby-sitter. Slowly she morphed into a smiling white tuft of hair crooked inside an arm in Christmas and graduation photographs.
Then, after she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I made a point to visit her kitchen at least one hour every Saturday, taking advantage of "what little time we had left."
Find a way or make one.
Fifteen years, five more bouts with cancer and countless medical treatments later, I was still traveling every weekend to visit that kindly old face with the dancing blue eyes. And something unexpectedly wonderful happened along the way.
She wasn't just "Grandma" to me anymore. She was Evelyn, a funny, intelligent, insightful, spiritual, courageous, compassionate, beautiful, graceful woman and one of my closest and most cherished friends.
Every trip to see Evelyn was a journey through the 20th century. There was her first memory of her father, when she was just a toddler standing in the front yard, eyeing a weary serviceman, fresh from the Great War.
Or the 5-cent piece, melted and jagged, she saved all those years until recently, a memento from the night she found a 2-year-old stunned but unharmed, reaching distance from a short-circuited electrical outlet.
"I thought for sure that should've killed you," she said.
Granted, there were things we didn't agree upon -- she remained convinced the world was ending and saw no use for a device that could store 20,000 songs -- but we always found common ground.
We agreed Santa Barbara was one of the most beautiful places either of us had ever seen. And we even enjoyed watching the occasional Lakers and UCLA game. "How do they make that ball go in the tiny hole?" she marveled.
Toward the end of her life, Evelyn was weaker and frailer but her determination never wavered. Just a few months ago, a doctor gave her the choice of hospice care or another round of ravaging chemotherapy, unthinkable for a woman of 90.
Find a way or make one.
Evelyn chose the chemo.
And there was another, softer moment, shortly before Evelyn moved into an assisted living facility, when she feared our weekly visits might come to an abrupt stop.
She tugged at my shirt sleeve, drew me near and whispered, "Please don't forget about me."
I promise, Grandma. That will never happen.
Contact Jeff Girod at 951-368-9585 or jgirod@PE.com or log on to www.myspace.com/jeffgirod
Monday, August 11, 2008
Dreams vs. reality
I'm not so good at keeping up with the email I get on Facebook, but it's been fascinating hearing from people I haven't heard from in years. One of them used to work with me on the (non-world famous) Wheaton College Record. She's now the religion columnist for the Chicago Sun-Times, and has a book coming out--Sin Boldly: A Field Guide for Grace, by Cathleen Falsani (I guess she's dropped the "Cathi").
But that's not what I'm writing about. In looking for the book to order, I came across her name in another book, written by a colleague of hers at the Sun-Times, Neil Steinberg. I saw he'd written a book with an irresistible title: Complete & Utter Failure: A Celebration of Also-Rans, Runners-Up, Never-Weres & Total Flops. That's part of what makes the web so great--the serendipitous stuff you find while looking for something else. It's out of print, but I found a copy and read through it quickly. It's amusing and profound, and a refreshing look at success and its opposite.
One of my favorite passages comes at the end of a chapter, setting us up for the author's disappointment in the next chapter, but it in some ways describes us all pretty well:
"The last day of my participation in any sort of organized educational institution came on June 19, 1982, when I graduated from Northwestern University, nearly seventeen years after that first day of kindergarten at Fairwood School. The college had issued us the standard black robes and mortarboards, and I was so impressed with mine that I wore it the entire day, even during the break between commencement and convocation ceremonies, when I strode into the Pali Kai Lounge, a cheesy bar on Davis Street I frequented at the time, and let the barflies buy me drinks.
To an impartial observer, I must have seemed like a character from Eugene O'Neill--the young idiot in a bar spouting socialist philosophies and railing at the world. Only I didn't even have misplaced, pent-up anger to spout at the world. I sat happily at the bamboo bar and soaked up the booze, confident that the spheres were in order. Properly fortified, I toddled off to get my diploma. On the way to the auditorium, I broke into a run, holding onto my mortarboard, rejoicing in the feel of my academic gowns flowing around me in the wind. I thought myself a wonderful creature, blessed by education, separated by an enormous gulf from the pedestrian workers tossing me a gape as I flew by. I thought the world was about to be jolted by something new and fresh and fantastic, and that the difficulties of life which face most people would dissolve in deference to me. I thought wrong."
He goes on to describe his obscure jobs and eventual success, which of course was not as "new and fresh and fantastic" as he expected. This early 20's hubris takes a while to get over, but it's part of the aging process discussed in my last entry. The older folk who think it's only part of this generation are suffering from selective amnesia, and today's young'n's will shake their heads at tomorrow's know-it-alls with a strong sense of entitlement.
But that's not what I'm writing about. In looking for the book to order, I came across her name in another book, written by a colleague of hers at the Sun-Times, Neil Steinberg. I saw he'd written a book with an irresistible title: Complete & Utter Failure: A Celebration of Also-Rans, Runners-Up, Never-Weres & Total Flops. That's part of what makes the web so great--the serendipitous stuff you find while looking for something else. It's out of print, but I found a copy and read through it quickly. It's amusing and profound, and a refreshing look at success and its opposite.
One of my favorite passages comes at the end of a chapter, setting us up for the author's disappointment in the next chapter, but it in some ways describes us all pretty well:
"The last day of my participation in any sort of organized educational institution came on June 19, 1982, when I graduated from Northwestern University, nearly seventeen years after that first day of kindergarten at Fairwood School. The college had issued us the standard black robes and mortarboards, and I was so impressed with mine that I wore it the entire day, even during the break between commencement and convocation ceremonies, when I strode into the Pali Kai Lounge, a cheesy bar on Davis Street I frequented at the time, and let the barflies buy me drinks.
To an impartial observer, I must have seemed like a character from Eugene O'Neill--the young idiot in a bar spouting socialist philosophies and railing at the world. Only I didn't even have misplaced, pent-up anger to spout at the world. I sat happily at the bamboo bar and soaked up the booze, confident that the spheres were in order. Properly fortified, I toddled off to get my diploma. On the way to the auditorium, I broke into a run, holding onto my mortarboard, rejoicing in the feel of my academic gowns flowing around me in the wind. I thought myself a wonderful creature, blessed by education, separated by an enormous gulf from the pedestrian workers tossing me a gape as I flew by. I thought the world was about to be jolted by something new and fresh and fantastic, and that the difficulties of life which face most people would dissolve in deference to me. I thought wrong."
He goes on to describe his obscure jobs and eventual success, which of course was not as "new and fresh and fantastic" as he expected. This early 20's hubris takes a while to get over, but it's part of the aging process discussed in my last entry. The older folk who think it's only part of this generation are suffering from selective amnesia, and today's young'n's will shake their heads at tomorrow's know-it-alls with a strong sense of entitlement.
'Twas ever thus
I was reading my pastor's thoughts on the novel The Emperor's Children (Have No Clothes) by Claire Messud. You can find them at :
http://drtscott.typepad.com
Part of the discussion is about young 20 and 30-somethings trying to make it in the world, and how the deck may be stacked against them like never before, along with the fear that our greatest generations are behind us and the current and future ones are too selfish and spoiled to rise to the previous levels. I'm paraphrasing because I haven't read the book--the review just inspired my thoughts below:
I heard (and can still occasionally hear) the same thing said about my generation, the "slacker" Generation X. I did believe some of it, and gave some credence to the excuses X-er's gave in advance for not making it in this world, including the economy, high prices of everything, job exports, etc. And yet, on the verge of 40, I and most people I grew up with are providing for themselves and their families, and some are wildly successful. I can't think of anyone living in their parents' basement, but I know they exist. I just don't think they exist in greater numbers than they used to.
I think we're taking longer to be independent because education seems to take longer these days, so more people are opting for college and post-graduate degrees than they used to.
As a side note, someone told me this weekend that in his family, the degree of success among the siblings turned out to be inversely proportionate to their grade point averages. This doesn't mean slackers will always win, but it does mean you probably shouldn't bet on the "most likely to be successful" polls in high school.
I also heard when I started that the Baby Boomers weren't saving enough, so there'd be a huge retirement crisis looming. And yet I also read the next 30-40 years will be the greatest transfer of wealth the world has ever seen, from those same Boomers. The truth lies somewhere in between. And my 15 years of working with peoples' estates shows me that there are savers and spenders in each generation, and that each generation worries about the irresponsibility of the younger ones.
In our estate planning, it's difficult to know best how to pass down the parents' values to their children, especially with a wealth-transfer plan. The easier answer is that if the values haven't been passed down by the time of the parents' deaths, it's probably too late. We can help in crafting a plan that will help achieve objectives, like funds for education of the family, encouraging certain prudent investment strategies, preserving the wealth for children while allowing them freedom to start a business or freedom from large house payments, and guarding the wealth during substance abuse problems and other crippling addictions while allowing it to be used for treatment. We can also plan to avoid the wealth, if it's large enough, to help enhance beneficiaries' lives without demotivating them from working and the loss of self that comes from that demotivation.
I may still tell my children they don't know how good they have it, but I also know they probably won't realize it until they're much, much older, and I can forgive them for that--I didn't realize it myself until I was a father. I'll remind them of this when they're subjected to whatever the "slacker" term is for the class of 2016.
http://drtscott.typepad.com
Part of the discussion is about young 20 and 30-somethings trying to make it in the world, and how the deck may be stacked against them like never before, along with the fear that our greatest generations are behind us and the current and future ones are too selfish and spoiled to rise to the previous levels. I'm paraphrasing because I haven't read the book--the review just inspired my thoughts below:
I heard (and can still occasionally hear) the same thing said about my generation, the "slacker" Generation X. I did believe some of it, and gave some credence to the excuses X-er's gave in advance for not making it in this world, including the economy, high prices of everything, job exports, etc. And yet, on the verge of 40, I and most people I grew up with are providing for themselves and their families, and some are wildly successful. I can't think of anyone living in their parents' basement, but I know they exist. I just don't think they exist in greater numbers than they used to.
I think we're taking longer to be independent because education seems to take longer these days, so more people are opting for college and post-graduate degrees than they used to.
As a side note, someone told me this weekend that in his family, the degree of success among the siblings turned out to be inversely proportionate to their grade point averages. This doesn't mean slackers will always win, but it does mean you probably shouldn't bet on the "most likely to be successful" polls in high school.
I also heard when I started that the Baby Boomers weren't saving enough, so there'd be a huge retirement crisis looming. And yet I also read the next 30-40 years will be the greatest transfer of wealth the world has ever seen, from those same Boomers. The truth lies somewhere in between. And my 15 years of working with peoples' estates shows me that there are savers and spenders in each generation, and that each generation worries about the irresponsibility of the younger ones.
In our estate planning, it's difficult to know best how to pass down the parents' values to their children, especially with a wealth-transfer plan. The easier answer is that if the values haven't been passed down by the time of the parents' deaths, it's probably too late. We can help in crafting a plan that will help achieve objectives, like funds for education of the family, encouraging certain prudent investment strategies, preserving the wealth for children while allowing them freedom to start a business or freedom from large house payments, and guarding the wealth during substance abuse problems and other crippling addictions while allowing it to be used for treatment. We can also plan to avoid the wealth, if it's large enough, to help enhance beneficiaries' lives without demotivating them from working and the loss of self that comes from that demotivation.
I may still tell my children they don't know how good they have it, but I also know they probably won't realize it until they're much, much older, and I can forgive them for that--I didn't realize it myself until I was a father. I'll remind them of this when they're subjected to whatever the "slacker" term is for the class of 2016.
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