The Writing of My 'Last Will and Testament': Preamble

A play is never finished. You'll find out how much I mean that when you read my Last Will and Testament. Tony Kushner

Anne Hathaway, the wife of William Shakespeare, was ‘willed’ his second-best bed. His ‘Last Will and Testament’ never mentioned his best bed or who was to receive it. Because the writer was Shakespeare, the world’s greatest playwright, that peculiar provision is still discussed today. Was it a slight to his wife of 34 years suggesting a troubled marriage, or was it the marital bed- the bed his three children were conceived giving it great sentimental value?

In Shakespeare’s day, the late 1500s, Wills and Testaments were often handwritten by the maker. There was perhaps legal assistance, but by and large, these documents not only represented the giver’s intentions but also insight into the societal norms of the time. In 1500 Britain, it was customary to stay married, whether happily or not, to bequeath one’s possessions to the children, but not necessarily in equal proportions- Shakespeare gave more to one daughter than the other. He also gave some of his possessions to his theater pals.

If without possessions, then the writing of the Will is optional, as even the state has found it challenging to tax what does not exist. The only physical manifestation you leave behind is your body, and that, of course, can be either buried or cremated. Without the burden or pleasure of things to leave others, you can focus on the disposition of more ethereal matters. John Hancock, America’s Founding Father and best known for his exquisite signature, wrote this as part of his Last Will and Testament.

I John Hancock, . . . being advanced in years and being of perfect mind and memory-thanks be given to God-therefore calling to mind the mortality of my body and knowing it is appointed for all men once to die [Hebrews 9:27], do make and ordain this my last will and testament...Principally and first of all, I give and recommend my soul into the hands of God that gave it: and my body I recommend to the earth . . . nothing doubting but at the general resurrection I shall receive the same again by the mercy and power of God. . .

Life was shorter in the Shakespearian era and lived closer to the cliff's edge which is perhaps why Shakespeare often weaved mortality themes through many of his plays. Macbeth compared life to “a tale told by an idiot” and a “brief candle.” He has Julius Caesar contemplating how death can alter one’s legacy. Indeed, what is left behind and ‘willed’ to others can speak volumes.

American playwright and author Tony Kushner suggests that if life is like a play, then the Last Will and Testament is to be part of the suspense. The friction and intrigue of the story has built to an explosive crescendo, with only the finale left to bring us to resolution: the reading of the ‘Last Will and Testament.’ Curtains close. The audience was mostly family and those willing to claim some friendship. The play ends when an heir to the Will stumbles out angry and in tears, mumbling, “I should never have told the bastard that I was going to train my dog to pee on his gravestone.” All she was willed was his third-best bed. Kushner and Shakespeare offered us fascinating insights into the peculiarities of our human nature.

Those who specialize in the biz of tidying up the affairs of our estates will tell you it’s best to take the drama out of the process. They’ll tell you stories of angry broken families when it’s done poorly. The ‘tea-pot,’ the one with a broken handle but passed on for four sentimental generations, was given to the youngest. The oldest is heartbroken and refuses to speak to the youngest. Frank, Jr. refuses to go to his old man’s funeral because Sr. gave his last $1500 to a charity, leaving him just the Cadillac and his pet parakeet affectionally named ‘Last Laugh.’

Today, the ‘writing’ of the will is primarily an automated legal process. The attorney pulls up a digital boilerplate document and fills the blanks with your answers. She then hits ‘print’ and hands it to you. I say ‘thank you’ because I’m expected to, but frankly, I’m in turmoil- twisted like a piece of licorice. My Last Will and Testament is now a legal document just waiting for someone to fulfill one final provision- to fill in one final blank- the date only Saint Peter knows. He’s standing at the Pearly Gates having just plucked a copy from the cloud. He reads it, smirking, shaking his head, and mutters, “Ahh… the passing of the stuff. How cute.”

Challenging the very notion of love and gratefulness, there are stories of heirs wishing the loved one to depart sooner rather than later. The ‘Mother’ in this story is convinced her daughter wishes her dead so that she might enjoy the loot while still young. Oh, the drama! Read here.

Most of us first confronted the notion of wills and financial planning just after the children arrived. Then the Will mainly dealt with the care and feeding of the children in the event your van stalls on a RR crossing just as the Acela Express rolls through at 150mph. Poof. Your youngest brother has now inherited your three crumb crunchers and, hopefully, your life insurance policy will get them all to adulthood. If we paused to consider our mortality, if was ever so briefly.

Decades later, it’s not the collision with a train that sends a shiver through our mortal soul but the tick-tock of advancing age. Each birthday bell moves us closer to the average life span. Of course, we’ll blow right past it, but we must put our house in order because, well… because, we’re told, it’s the responsible thing to do. The financial planner says it’s the prudent tax planning thing to do. The estate attorney says it will keep the children from fighting over your things and keep the invites to the non-profit fundraising dinners coming. Your children want to know if enough money will be left to pay the dump fee. I’m hearing all this but growing as Dizzy as Tommy Roe’s hit from 1968. ‘I’m so dizzy my head is spinning. Like a whirlpool…

It might say ‘Last Will and Testament’ as the title, but don’t be fooled. It can be changed, modified, and rewritten anytime. I tell my children that often. “It ain’t the last Will till the fat lady sings,” I sneer. “So, if you go off and join Hamas on a jihad, or put a clan cap on, or begin a career ‘keying’ Teslas, then all bets are off.” They look at me and yawn.

It’s popular today to give some part of the estate to non-profit folks. And if they think you might be thinking about that, they know just how to treat you. After slapping you silly and telling you what an honor it is to meet someone so successful, they’ll probe you like a prostate exam to see how enlarged your stash is. They’ll suggest an opportunity to create a ‘legacy.’ If you have enough, they’ll offer to name a bathroom in your honor- the ‘Mr. Floyd Snyff Puffery Restroom Pavilion.’ At the grand opening, you give a small speech telling the gathering, which includes all your grandchildren, that this is what years of thriftiness and delayed gratification will get you. “Save, scrimp, do without!” you admonish the yawning young. You tell them you still live by the golden rule of ‘a penny earned is a penny saved.’ Maybe it’s the other way around.

With tongue somewhat in cheek, I advocate for more ‘Last Will and Testament’ drama, not less. We need a document that comes from the heart, not some ‘fill in the blank’ baloney suggesting there’s only a ‘blank’ worth of difference between us. Maybe something with a bit of humor.

But perhaps that is playing with fire. The roots of our drama, our emotional friction, is deeply embedded in our human psyche. We mere mortals are capable of all the greed, jealousy, and demands for what is fair to create a unique story to every Will. Add a great sense of entitlement where one deserves what was not earned, and you have all the juices of a great Will. That is why lawyers are needed, and sometimes the court, to untangle the drama and the perceived injustice- to redistribute things according to someone else’s idea of what is fair.

Occasionally, someone from a younger generation will ask me about my father or mother. If curiosity expands the conversation, I’m soon telling them family stories—some funny, some sad. If still curious, we’ll discuss how sometimes our relationships with those we love the most can become complicated. There’s bound to be a little drama in every family.

Since I’m on mostly friendly terms with myself, I recall family memories while driving down the freeway by myself. I chuckle to myself, and sometimes, a memory evokes a tear. With each advancing year, those recollections become more and more valuable. Priceless even. It wasn’t in the Will, but it is what was willed.