The Family Epic, Part Three: To know, know, know you, is to…

At the time, I was living outside of New Haven, Connecticut in a small town, in a small house, near the ocean, financially and emotionally powerless to fight the enormous wave of defeat with my mother’s death, and her third husband’s refusal to abide by his own words.

But, I did have friends, and I did have my small napkin. My best friend was teaching at Yale law school and had been aware for years and years of my struggles with my family.

I remember one afternoon asking him if he would introduce me to the professor who taught contracts at the law school. He told me I was in luck (and boy could I use any I could get). This professor was considered one of the world’s authorities on contracts and with this meeting my life would take a turn in it’s course, either to drop any pretense of proceeding with the case, or to move forward.

A meeting was arranged. He was an elderly, gentleman, who sat me down and asked me to tell him my story. I explained the events leading up to the hospital room and finally brought out the little napkin (which was now quite wrinkled and worn) and showed it to him.

I will never forget his face. As soon as he saw the napkin, he smiled and almost started laughing.

You see I was a young man in the presence of genius. I was ready to bow at the alter of respect for his wisdom, and with his almost laugh, I was sure he was laughing at me. He must have been thinking, “What kind of crazy kid are you?” Here is a man who had taught the Clinton’s, etc. and here he was dealing with little old me. Contracts are a serious business, which takes expensive lawyers hundreds of hours of billable time to ruminate about all the fine distinctions that could possibly occur. How could this simple one sentence on an old, worn napkin, have any validity? I felt like a total fool, and was ready to walk unobtrusively, backwards out of his office, bowing in respect for his waste of time.

But then, after laughing even more, he quieted down and said, “I have never seen such a thing”, but as if the bells were ringing, the angels in songs of jubilation, announced that this little napkin was a legal contract and should hold up in court.

He explained to me, that Sidney’s claim of duress was invalid, as the courts only recognize physical duress, such having a gun held to you as duress. Emotional duress was not a valid excuse. He kept smiling and said, “If you get the right lawyer, you should win” and told me not to give up. He further asked to be kept informed about the progress of the case. I had raised his curiosity.

Well, I now had the word of God on my side. But, I had no money to go forth into this brave new world. Luckily, my wife’s childhood best friend’s father was a famous litigator. He had won many important litigations for the city of New York, and was known as being a killer in the courtroom. This is what I needed.

We arranged a meeting with him, and he agreed to take our case and base his fees on the outcome of the case.

For three and a half years we fought this case and finally settled. We received approximately half of my mother’s assets, which I probably would have settled for on day one. Our attorney took a large share for his attorney’s fees; the government took almost the rest. But, I did receive some furniture, and a small amount of money to pay for my son’s college education. This helped make my life a little easier for the next ten years.

And the story goes. What had started fourteen years earlier as a vast fortune, ended up as a small inheritance. This three-part saga is only the end of a sad story. Wait till you hear the beginning. Sometime in the future I will tell you about the greater loss, with the death of my father.

The question is this, “Is this how it should be?” Years ago when I met people who knew my father, they always assumed I had inherited his wealth. They were so surprised to hear there was almost nothing left. From the very beginning of the end his money was not to be. Was it predestined to be this way? Was it in some mysterious, cynical way that in the final depravation they finally gave me the gift I needed, my freedom.

As I look around the world, I see parents with no means giving everything to their children. They give of their love, their resources, their support, their time, etc. They are giving everything to their children, with nothing expected in return. I hope I have learned my lesson well, that in giving one receives more than one takes. I wonder if you have to learn to lose something in order to find a way to receive?

Thank you for listening. Till next week.