FiftyPlus Richmond -Time of my Life

The Time of My life Randy Fitzgerald

Buying Green Bananas:
As Much Fun as Making a Will

Barb had a little “spell” at the post office back in January, some chest discomfort that wouldn’t go away. After a bit she called 9-1-1 and got a ride to the emergency room, where tests were inconclusive. As a result, my excellent cardiologist (now also her excellent cardiologist) sent her over to InteCardia for a CT scan.

She went in confident her pain had been heartburn, a panic attack or a gall bladder problem. She even told me not to bother accompanying her to the testing, because she had some shopping to do afterwards.

So imagine her surprise when she got the news that day that her arteries had more plaque and calcium than 94 percent of the women her age who took the test. She called me from the parking lot and said, “Well, you’re going to have to go back to carrying your own banjo!”

Since I was diagnosed with heart problems two years ago, Barb has been taking good care of me. She tried hard to keep me on the Dr. Dean Ornish diet that is most beneficial for my condition, she did everything she could to see that I didn’t get stressed, and she always loaded my banjo and guitar into the car when I left the house for band practice or gigs.

Now it turned out her CT scan score was right up there with my own. “What are you going to do now?” I asked when she called me after the test. “Will you come home so we can talk about this?”

“Well,” she replied, “I was going to Costco, but I guess there’s no point in buying anything in bulk.”

She has a great attitude about this. She’s not taking it lightly, but she has had some really funny lines. A few days after Barb got her test results, we were out grocery shopping, and she told me that it probably made no sense to buy green bananas.
But beyond the jokes, she has joined me wholeheartedly on this very strenuous diet, and she’s stopped doing foolhardy things like taking the Christmas tree down and dragging it out in the yard by herself, which she did the day before her test. Since she’s been diagnosed, she’s actually called on neighbors for help.

And, gallows humor or not, she decided we should finally go make wills. I’m embarrassed to admit that we got to the age of 66 without a will—clearly we should have done it years ago.

A couple of decades back we typed out informally how we wanted our property distributed, and then we had a neighbor witness our signatures. But when we went to attorney Andrew Wood last month to get a real will prepared, we discovered that our improvised will wouldn’t have held up.

There were several reasons why, the most obvious being that the state of Virginia requires two witnesses to a typed will who must be physically present together with you while you acknowledge it as your will.

We learned a lot at Wood & Wood about wills. For instance, did you know that you can simplify your will by not listing all the individual personal possessions you want to leave to family and friends? Because that kind of list constantly changes as people die or relationships change, it makes more sense just to make out your own list and leave it in a safe place—perhaps in a safe deposit box along with your will—pinpointing the items you want left to whom. Then you don’t have the expense of changing your will when you decide Cousin Marva should get your emerald ring instead of Aunt Marge.

While our will could have been complicated, thanks to good legal advice it wasn’t.
“For many people,” says Andy Wood, “a simple will is all they need. Others need serious estate planning with an eye to special needs. For instance, they may have a grandchild they want to see educated, so a small trust might be in order. Or maybe one of your heirs has a drug or alcohol problem, and you think it wise to put some restrictions on your bequest. That’s something you can do in your will.”

It is not true, as many people believe, that if you die without a will, the state of Virginia will end up with your property. “It’s true that without a will, the state will determine where your estate goes,” says Andy, “and that’s determined by a formula—a one-size-fits-all distribution. But while your property doesn’t go to the state, it could very well go to a distant relative you don’t even know—or, worse, to one you know too well.”
I asked Barb on the way home from the lawyer’s whether making a will had depressed her.

“No,” she said. “I actually enjoyed it. Of course, it helps that I know we can’t die until we clean out the junk room, and that’s going to keep us here at least another couple of decades.”

Randy Fitzgerald is chair of the English and journalism department at Virginia Union University. He is a former Richmond Times-Dispatch columnist and University of Richmond administrator. His blog is www.randyfitzgerald.blog.com.

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