Lesson Learned

“He had a good run,” Malcolm’s wife Janet agreed. “Ninety-four years old and never sick a day in his life. Died in his own bed and in his own home. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“And darn nice of him to leave all nine of you nieces and nephews that money.”

Of course, no story in this column is either that simple or straightforward. Because seven of the nine beneficiaries instigated litigation that started ugly and, after three and a half years, got uglier. Apparently everyone getting together for a nice meal to share remembrances, talk old times, and celebrate the life of the deceased was not in the cards.

It seems that Janet’s uncle had been taken care of by one of her mom’s cousins who was disappointed that his share wasn’t bigger than those of the other children who hadn’t been active participants in their uncle’s last years. Of course the other children disagreed. Attorneys were hired; words were spoken; relationships were broken irretrievably.

Oh, and the amount in dispute? Were one set of cousins to win, their six thousand dollar share would have increased to around seven thousand dollars. The “losing” cousins would have seen their six thousand dollar share go down to some $5K.

My buddy was philosophical about the carnage, but I had to ask. Why would your wife’s relatives fight so hard about such a small differential of money? Are these folks the poster children for “too much time on their hands?” Were they mad at each other from some previous incident? Were they arithmetically impaired-unable to guess that the attorneys would earn more than anyone else?

Malcolm was introspective. “I don’t think so,” he said. “When I asked the cousins why they were fighting so hard with one another they said that they wanted to teach each other a lesson and to make sure the same thing didn’t happen again.”

“To teach each other a lesson so that the same thing didn’t happen again?”

“Yeah I guess if their uncle were to die again. Of course, he would have to come back to life or something first.”

***

Why is this family destroying itself over a trivial amount of money that means nothing to any of them? Why are they willing to never speak to one another again for the rest of their lives for a thousand dollars?

Beats the heck out of me. I don’t pretend to have the first insight into human nature. I haven’t a clue what these folks were thinking, why they would lose relationships that had gone on for generations over a lousy thousand bucks.

I am supposed to be something of an expert on parenting though. (For a dissenting opinion on my status as expert, feel free to contact any of my four children.) So I will make an analogy to your relationship with your kids: are you fighting hard over that which ultimately makes no significant difference?

Is there such a thing as “leave well enough alone”? If your kid has a 92 average, it is worth all that emotional dissonance to insist that she have a 94? Could an argument be made for “peace in the home”? Could you maybe lessen your anxiety about her grades long enough to go for a bike ride with her to the ice cream place in your neighborhood?

What about taking out the trash? Don’t get me wrong. I am all about able bodied children helping with household chores in general and trash in particular. But there comes a point where a loving parent has to ask the question, “Why are we going to war over a task that takes, on average, just under two minutes?”

Ultimately of course, the kids should be responsible for taking out the trash, no question. But if getting the garbage bucket to the curb involves rending of garments and loss of life, you might want to ask yourself what else might be going on with the family.

Because the answers I typically hear, “If I don’t force him to take out the trash now, how will he learn to take out the trash later?” make as much sense as Malcolm’s wife’s uncle coming back to life.