Memories of wealth and lost inheritance, with a silver lining

November 1, 2014

I was only 5 when my mother remarried, so there wasn’t much I could say about the matter. But now I look back and see that during the time they were together they spent our inheritance.  So when my mother asked me in 1974 if I wanted anything from the house, because she planned to sell it, I was cavalier in my answer and pretty much dismissed any further thought than, no there’s nothing I want.

The house was awash in riches, at least by today’s standards for Phoebe and me. Now I wish I’d said, yes, I’d like the house so don’t sell it. I’ll come out and meet with you and Phoebe to discuss this further before anything is decided.

But the house was sold and everything in it. I got a few dishes and my mom’s wedding ring, which I sold several years ago because I was short of cash, which had been valued at about $100 because all the diamonds were chipped in some way or another. I sold it for the little bit of gold. I sold mom’s class ring from her college in Florida, which I had worn as a child. I have lots of pictures of mom in her hayday growing up wealthy in Hinsdale and her years as a Red Cross volunteer during the war. Phoebe got a huge mirror that required two people to carry it, and some other things. But if there was anything of value, she had to do what I did with mom’s rings.

I say the house was full of riches, I’m heartsick thinking about it. Here’s a partial list of what was in the house before it and everything else was sold. Years later I found out that mom had spent that money lavishly as a treat to herself, which was through a haze of alcohol.

An antique cherry wood china cabinet with three shelves of Paul Revere silver settings

Four completely furnished bedrooms, two bathrooms, and kitchen.

A garage full of tools for carpentry, gardening, and auto repair

This doesn’t seem too unusual, except that we can never replace even a fraction of that. Phoebe and I are both living in great comfort, thanks to our benefactors who want us for our companionship more than anything. The last 25 years I have lived with Moreen rent free. Pheobe’s lived with Jack Talbot for going on 10 years and rent is part of what she is paid to be a platonic partner, make dinner, take Jack to appointments, plan parties, plan trips, and accompany him when she’s needed. We are both forever indebted to both of our friends for their hospitality, grace, and sharing of their good fortune.

In my bedroom alone were priceless collections (in today’s dollars) of DC comics, especially Superman. Original Mad magazines and small books by the same publisher. Stacks of clothes. Phoebe and I had hand-made desks created by Ed.

And we seem to always get what we put on our list of gift requests for birthdays and Christmas. Mom even got me a subscription to Playboy when I was in 9^th grade. If we wanted bikes, we got bikes. There were few things, if any, I can remember being denied. We ate three generous meals every day for 10 years (the time my mother and stepfather were married, his passing in 1968.) If I got home late from a drama practice, mom would make me a steak, baked potatoes, and salad.

I wasn’t lazy. I just took everything for granted at the time. I kept my paperroute until the end of llth grade, in time for the junior ball. I rode my bike back and forth to school (hills which I can’t imagine even walking today – Regents Road from UC to Clairemont.) Mom bought me a spirit duplicator for an underground newspaper I published for five or more issues and passed out in front of Clairemont High.

In middle school if I wanted plaid pants with matching shirts I could have them, much to my stepfather’s anger. He returned from the PX (military store) with three pairs of canvas trousers and insisted I wear them. The relationship I had, or didn’t have, with my stepfather, is something for other stories. Simply, I was terribly frightened of him and relieved when he was on duty for months at a time. I hated him so much that if I came home from a friends and saw his car in the driveway, I would retreat until I could get my nerve up enough to go home. I don’t recall him saying one kind word to me, and the most memorable face was his anger, yelling through clenched teeth and slapping me on the side of the head with the back of his hand, wedding ring included. He took me out of cub scouts because he thought the cubmaster was gay, but it was the only activity I had with other boys and I was devastated by his decision.

But that’s not why I’m writing today.

Neither Phoebe nor I were aware of mom’s gradual mental and physical degradation that marked the years after Ed’s death. She continued to abuse alcohol to the point that it put her in a hospital her last three years. I was named her conservator by the courts so was responsible for taking care of all the overdue bills and unpaid credit card statements, which required me to declare bankruptcy in her stead. Once the papers were filed I had one vendor, who owned a store near mom’s point loma apartment, call me at home and ask if they could go through her things and claim any items that she had “bought” at the store, which I didn’t agree to. Mom was placed in the Alpine Convalescent Center, where she died of organic brain syndrome. She drunk alcohol until it killed her.

What a contrast to the vitality, beauty, and wealth of her life before remarrying. I was too young to be witness to her spending when I was little, and I remember only snippets of life at three and four years old. Having a tantrum in the parking lot of Green Gates Nursery School, lying on my stomach, and watching mom back her car out about 100 yards away, threatening to leave me. She didn’t bring me a treat at the end of my time at preschool. Bunkbeds, two Siamese cats, who climbed up and scratched my stepsister Mary as she slept. Meeting Ed for the first time, the greying crew cut and his big hands.

When she remarried she had an impressive stock portfolio and savings, at least from what I could gather from all the paperwork I had to collect for the bankruptcy. That was all spent, which is why the house could have been such an important inheritance for us.

But fate decided otherwise.

The silver lining is pretty straightforward, reading between the lines and not. Phoebe and I at this time in our lives are well-cared for. I know she's been trying to save money, spurred on by Jack's generosity, and I have about $300k in investments, thanks to my rent being covered all this time. I'm getting Social Security of $1,400 a month, plus $500 from investment income.

We are blessed, despite the losses, and are thankful to the heavens for our good fortune.