Grandpa's List

Grandpa’s List

Perhaps I’ve watched too many old movies. In my mind, I have a very distinct vision of what a “will reading” looks like. It takes place in a large conference room, at a long table surrounded by leather chairs. Behind them are rows of antiquated law books that lawyers rummaged through late into the evening before everything was computerized. If the estate lawyer came to the home of the deceased, the will reading would take place in the study, with the lawyer seated at the large, oak desk of the person who signed the will years before.

It is entirely possible that this is exactly what happened a few years ago when my grandfather died. I don’t know because I was not there at the time. I was able to return home from college for his funeral, but I guess I was still a generation removed from participating in the formal reading of Grandpa’s will. To be honest, I really don’t know if someone actually read the will aloud. The terms were pretty simple: Grandpa made some specific bequeaths to the ACLU, the Shriner’s Hospital and the local humane society – charities he had supported throughout his life. He gave something to each of his nine grandchildren. My mom and her two sisters each got a third of all that remained.

Our family is very fortunate; we did not need what Grandpa left behind. Same goes for my cousins and their families. None of our three families are Silicon Valley or Hamptons rich, but we’re all in good financial shape. Fortunate indeed. When I got together with my cousins the Thanksgiving after Grandpa died, no one knew the specifics of his will (or at least no one admitted to knowing the specifics). The consensus was that each of the sisters received an amount in the “high six figures.” If anything, the only surprise was that the amount was not higher. When Grandma died – six years before Grandpa – the talk within the family was that Grandpa would never have to work another day in his life. Between Grandma’s family money (generated in large part based on some shrewd investing in a local beverage company turned global conglomerate), and Grandpa’s money from the university, he was set. Rumor amongst the cousins was Grandpa was worth over $10,000,000. The same rumors that spoke to Grandpa’s wealth often included stories of Grandpa buying stock in Microsoft and Apple early on. But these rumors seemingly were laid to rest when Grandpa was.

Grandpa didn’t retire when his wife died. He stayed on at the faculty at the University of Georgia law school, where he had taught Constitutional Law for over 50 years before turning his attention to the emerging law of money laundering, financial crimes and cryptocurrency. He often testified as an expert and, in one case, was reported to have been paid in BitCoins, though his estate team could find no evidence of this.

I remember Grandpa as a lover of music, scotch, SEC football games and puzzles – not necessarily in that order, but often enjoying all four at the same time. Countless times, upon our arrival for a weekend visit, I would walk into his study and find Grandpa watching football on TV with the sound down, jazz music playing on a stereo older than me, a glass of scotch in his left hand and a pen in his right hand, filling out the crossword puzzle or Sudoku in the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. After my mother, father and two older sisters said their hellos and moved outside onto the porch, I would stay in the study with Grandpa and watch the game, listen to the music, drink my ginger ale (since the color matched his scotch) and “help” him with his puzzles. I’m convinced at least three words from those crossword puzzles later showed up on my SAT test.

Grandpa was particularly fond of playing the Twenty Questions game with me. As he constantly reminded me, I could only ask questions that could be answered with a “yes” or a “no.” Our game of Twenty Questions was simply a weekend version of the Socratic Method he applied in his Con Law classes during the week. He would start: “A man wearing a backpack enters a field and immediately dies. Explain, Jonathan.” “What was in the backpack?” I asked. “Jonathan, can that question be answered with a “yes” or “no” response? I think not. Try again.” At least he never counted my improper questions against the twenty I could ask.

Grandpa never came right out and said it, but he always made me feel that I was his favorite grandchild. He did tell me several times I was the smartest, but immediately swore me to secrecy each time. I was curious if he had told my two sisters and our cousins the same thing; but I never asked them – perhaps because I was afraid they all would answer the question in the affirmative. And I never wanted to doubt Grandpa’s sincerity, even after his death.

So, imagine my surprise when my mom asked my two sisters and I to join her in the family room – alone – one night over the Christmas holidays a few months after Grandpa passed away. “Kids,” she started (and remember I was in college and both of my sisters are older than I am; nevertheless, I guess we’ll always be her ‘kids’), “when Grandpa died, he left a very specific will.” She then proceeded to tell us about his charitable gifts and how the remainder of the estate was to be split up between her, Aunt Sarah and Aunt Kate. She then paused, struggling to choose her words carefully. “Jonathan, each of your cousins received a gift of $75,000. And your two sisters each received the same thing. For some reason, Grandpa chose to treat you differently. I don’t know why, but maybe you do. Grandpa’s will only provided for you to receive $20,000.” To this day, I remember exactly how Mom phrased it, as if Grandpa’s will, and not Grandpa himself, had made that decision. She continued: “He also left a personal item to each of you: Elizabeth, he left you his watch; Caroline, you got a crystal decanter; Jonathan, he left you two things: his stereo and a leather journal that he had engraved with your initials before he passed away. I suspect it was going to be a Christmas present, but he just didn’t make it to December this year.”

I remember feeling numb. Why? Why was I worth $55,000 less than my sisters and my cousins? I felt betrayed. All the time we spent together. I was certain that my amount was missing a zero. If anything, I anticipated that I would face the awkwardness of having to explain to my siblings and cousins why my amount was so much more than theirs. Instead, it was made clear to the entire family that I was the runt of the litter. Of course, that did not keep me from depositing the check as soon as Mom gave it to me. As for the journal, I stuck it in my backpack, unopened, thinking that I might have a use for it when I got back to school.

A month or so later, I opened the journal. Inside was an envelope. My name was written in my grandfather’s handwriting. I was tempted to throw it in the trash without opening it. But curiosity got the best of me. Inside was a short note, written by the unsteady hand of a man who had lived almost ninety years. “Jonathan, I always told you that you were my smartest grandchild. Prove me right and the rewards are all yours.” I then opened the journal. On the first page, in the same unsteady handwriting, was the following:

1. Make every day count.

2. Arrive to your destination in a timely fashion.

3. Remember to start your day by making your bed (I borrowed this one).

4. BitCoin may indeed be the safest form of wealth preservation; only time will tell.

5. Use your skills and talents to benefit those less fortunate than you.

6. Resist the urge to take shortcuts in life.

7. Yesterday is the past; tomorrow is the future, but today is a gift . . . that’s why they call it the present. (I borrowed this one, too, but my point is to get the most out of every day).

8. Vitamins, fresh fruits, vegetables, and water will keep your body strong and healthy.

9. Marvel at nature’s wonders and capture these images whenever and wherever you can.

10. Adapt to where you are. In other words, when in Rome . . ..

11. Decline opportunities and offers that seem too good to be true.

12. Include others in your endeavors, but do not ever forget to reserve time for . . .

13. Solitude. Time alone is priceless.

14. Offer your love freely, but offer your heart only when you are sure.

15. Never turn down a home-cooked meal.

16. 9 grandchildren, but only one Jonathan.

That was it!? A note and a “How to Live Your Life” list that he could have taken from Facebook? That was somehow supposed to make me feel better about getting fifty-five grand less than everyone else?

Time heals all wounds. As I finished up college, I found myself trying to live by these rules. I honestly don’t know if I started following the advice out of spite or because the words made sense. But, I improved my eating habits and started making my bed every morning. I took time off after graduation to travel. I chose to appreciate that I had $20,000 to spend instead of being regretful that I didn’t have $75,000. I filled up two 256-gig hard drives with pictures that I took on my adventures: mountains, waterfalls, sunsets and smiling kids from 26 different countries. I traveled with my college friends, but I also took a couple of solo trips. All along, I wrote about my experiences in my journal.

Recently, I read an article about a guy who lost his BitCoin password. According to the story, he had two “guesses” left before his hard-drive would automatically become encrypted and his $200 million worth of Bitcoin would be forever lost. The story made me laugh. It also made me think about Grandpa and the rumors that he had once received BitCoins as compensation for his expert testimony. The story brought me back to my journal. Rule # 4. I recall how that rule stood out every time I read the list. It was more of a prediction than a rule to live by. Nevertheless, it was on the list.

The other thing that I always found odd about the list was the number of rules: sixteen. Not ten. Not Twenty. Sixteen. As in the number of characters in a BitCoin password. I started playing around with the words, the ideas, the characters on the list. Nothing made sense. And Grandpa was not around for me to ask him “yes” or “no” questions. Unlike a crossword puzzle or a cryptogram, I didn’t even know if there was a puzzle hidden within the list. As I was closing my journal one night, a loose page slowly crossed from right to left over the page on which the list was written. Just before the list was completely covered, I could see the first letter of each item on the list. I wrote them down:

M, A, R, B, U, R, Y, V, M, A, D, I, S, O, N, 9.

Leave it to a Con Law professor with nine grandchildren to secretly acquire BitCoins, use our nation’s most famous case as his password, and then gamble on whether his treasure would ever be found. But he did. And it was.

Thankfully, Grandpa made it clear that the rewards would be mine. But I intend to share. Rule #5.