COMMENTARY
by Judy Barber

Families chat easily about their investments, deals, and bargains. Talk about estate planning, however, is often taboo. How many children can comfortably ask their parents,"How much are you worth?" or "How much money are you planning to leave me?"

These questions can be considered rude, an invasion of privacy. They can be threatening to parents, hinting at mortality and greed. And yet honest answers might make a dramatic difference in the decisions an adult child makes. Open talk might liberate parents to reveal their dreams for their childrens' use of the estates they have worked so hard to build.

A will is about far more than money. On the surface, estate planning decisions are based on tax laws and long-term planning needs. Under the surface, decisions about how, when and what assets are to be distributed reveal worlds about the relationship between parent and child (and can alter those relationships, as well). The document may express deep emotions that trace back to parents' feelings about the children as little girl's or boy's, and to the hopes and dreams the parents had for them.

For adult children as well, discussing a will may evoke feelings from the past. For them, it may be hard not to feel like the kid often, twenty or thirty years ago once again trying to summon the courage to face a parent about an important subject. Discussing wills can drag out memories and patterns we thought we'd left behind. As I discovered with shock.

OLD ROLES DIE HARD I remember the day my father told me about his estate planning. He had called me and said, "I want you to come over and read the will." I was surprised that he wanted me to see it and, in away, flattered that he trusted me with the information. I also felt a sense of dread and sadness that he was preparing for his death, as I was not. He had a slow growing, untreatable cancer. At the time of his call, he had few symptoms and was still active and full of his usual bravado. I didn't really believe he was going to die.

I sat at his dining room table on a sunny summer afternoon, feeling the warm breeze from Mt. Diablo blowing through the open sliding glass door. My father paced as I read. What I discovered in my reading was that I was fourth in line as trustee of his estate, last behind my three brothers.

I'm not sure why I thought it would be any different. I was, after all, the youngest and the only girl. I was also untrained in the skills necessary to manage his estate, skills my brothers had. Yet I felt hurt and angry.

When I found my voice, I asked him, "Why am I last?"

He responded sharply, "Because you're the youngest" But I knew that age had not been his only criteria in deciding the order and, using a term I had not used for at least a decade, said so. "It's because I'm a girl."

He hemmed and hawed, tried the age factor again, but knew it didn't fly. There was an uncomfortable silence; he shrugged and smiled and I laughed and said to him, "Dad, after all I've tried to teach you about the changing role of women - after all my hard work - I guess none of it took."

He was a man of his times. As much as he supported me in my business and bragged about my accomplishments, he had deeply-held beliefs about the proper roles for women. In my desire for recognition through his estate planning, I had hoped he would show how he valued me by giving me responsibility beyond the role of traditional daughter. But it was not a realistic expectation. We were both products of a thirty-five year relationship and there were limits to how far its old patterns could be stretched. I doubt that it ever crossed his mind that I could learn about the real estate management business.

Yet by showing me his estate plan, he gave me the chance to tell him what I thought. He gave me the opportunity to finish an important piece of personal business with him. When he died suddenly six months later, I felt no confusion regarding which loss I was grieving. The will never crossed my mind. My feelings were about the loss of my father, about how much I would miss him. I continue to appreciate the courage it took for a man of his era to tell me his plans face to face.

DEALING WITH THE PERSONAL ISSUES When parents and children discuss estate planning matters, these remnants from the past are overlaid with all their current personal issues and struggles. The generations are, inevitably, in different stages of their lives - they see the world differently. Conflicting values and priorities can become the source of misunderstanding. So as we look across the table at each other, we need to be sensitive to the issues the other generation brings to the discussion.

PARENTAL ISSUES Whether voiced or not, discussions about estate planning are discussions about death. They force parents to consider the end of their lives and force children to think about being the oldest generation, without their parents in their lives.

Mortality isn't easy to face. Most of us don't control how we die, and we fear the unknown journey. We may fear dependency and burdening our family. We may worry about whether our family will give us loving care when we're infirm. Those who are sick or have a terminal illness may, as they face estate decisions, already be suffering from pain and worry about the future as their illness worsens.

These feelings impact on how we plan. If we aren't aware of our own anxieties, we may use the will to play out a need to maintain control and power, compensation for areas in our personal lives where we feel we have little control. We may set conditions for receiving income that disregard the individual needs of the beneficiaries: For example, creating educational funds for grandchildren that can be used only at schools pre-approved by grandparents before their death intrudes on the next generation's family life; basing distribution of income from an estate solely on the level of the adult child's own income may make it extremely difficult for the young person to make a wise career choice.

Sometimes estate planning decisions are made out of anger or a sense of disappointment about the life children have chosen - complicated and painful issues. I've never seen a strategy work that tried to control an adult child's behavior through the giving or withholding of money or by setting down conditions on receiving income from an estate. The price tag for such restrictions can be the loss of love and respect.

But there may be a legitimate need to assess how well an heir can handle financial autonomy. Susan and Steve's children were in their '30's; one had a drug problem and the other had difficulty keeping a job. The parents worried that if they left all their assets outright, the money might not last the children's lifetime. They decided to give the children access to the principle at age 60 to ensure they'd have assets when they reached retirement. When they told their children about their plans, the decision was not well received but - after hearing the children's arguments - Susan and Steve stuck with their decision.

Ted and JoAnne felt more trust in their kids, who were both in their mid-twenties. They sat down with them and asked: How much responsibility do you want? Both children admitted that they had difficulty managing the money they currently had and, at least for the foreseeable future, did not want the responsibility of managing assets.

Ted and JoAnne put the money in a trust that would terminate when each child turned forty-five. At thirty-five, they would become co-trustees. The parents also began an educational process with semi-annual meetings that taught their kids about their inheritance.

These judgment calls about the money - where it goes, how much is distributed, and when are a rare opportunity to look at our life in a larger perspective. To some extent, estate planning is about evaluating the strengths and vulnerabilities ofthe next generation, and it invites us to look at our children's lives as separate from ours and to accept their choices.

We may fear that our children are making money "mistakes" that we didn't make. But we made other mistakes, and learned from them. Children learn more from their own financial mistakes than they do from our financial successes.

CHILDREN'S STRUGGLES Having a positive sense of themselves is not easy for many young people today. Some feel that opportunities aren't there for them; others, that the price of success is too high. For children of wealthy parents, building a strong personal identity and finding a satisfying career path is particularly difficult. Discussing estate planning with parents can compound these feelings of inadequacy and guilt, and of 'not deserving'.

Young people can feel overshadowed and overwhelmed by their parents' success in the world. When Paul, a twenty-five year old carpenter, talked to me about whether to go back and finish school, he confessed, "I don't think I could ever catch up. There's nothing I could do in my life to match what they've done in theirs. All my life I heard of their daily successes as I struggled through school."

Bright, charming, and apparently gifted with a good eye for design, he had a hard time coming to terms with not having to "match" his parents' success. Ultimately, he found his strength and autonomy by redefining "success" on his own terms, and by identifying the career he really wanted to follow. He has gone back to school and hopes to be an architect.

Paul's parents are pleased. After talking to them about feeling "dwarfed" by their successes, Paul saw that that was not what they wanted to happen.

Mary is a forty-year-old artist who dabbled in her work for ten years after completing a business degree to satisfy family expectations. Since there were no artists in her family, she was expected to get a job with more professional status and dutifully took a series of business jobs. But she left each job after two or three years.

Finally, she sorted things out and realized that she needed to paint - and needed to treat her art as a business. She has successfully promoted her work, had many gallery shows, and is now supporting herself with her painting. She makes less money than she made in the business world or than her siblings make in more traditional jobs. But she forged a successful marriage of her family's values, her business background, and her artistic talent. Above all, she forged a sense of identity and the confidence to know she can make it on her own. When I hear parents say that their kids "feel entitled" to know about their inheritance, I've learned from listening to family conversations that this sense of privilege often comes from deeper feelings of inadequacy. The adult children who seem most concerned about the estate plan are often those having the greatest difficulty meeting an appropriate goal for their age — going to college, finishing college, getting a job, or finding a career. If they weren't taught or if they resisted learning how to manage money, some fear they won't be able to support themselves. Or they fear the pain of not living up to parents' expectations and lack the confidence to risk what they perceive as 'failure". Others may be so identified with their parents' lifestyle that the very thought of giving it up is felt as real loss.

IN SUMMARY All of these issues can make estate planning discussions between parents and children difficult to initiate and carry out. Each person brings his own set of issues and points of view, his own vulnerabilities. Accepting and respecting the differences can be tough. But open, nonjudgemental talking is essential to the process. The involvement of a third party, ideally a neutral professional, can help to create an environment where family members feel safe to express themselves.

Satisfying resolution of estate planning issues is not totally dependent on the financial decisions. As the human issues are bared and resolved, the process can deepen relationships between parents and grown children. It can nurture confidence, self-esteem, and maturity. But children need to be willing to see their parents as human beings struggling with their own issues as they make tough decisions. Parents need to be willing to recognize their children's autonomy, accept the differences in needs and values, and respect their decisions. For those who bring this spirit to the estate planning table, there is the potential for forging profoundly healthier and stronger family ties.

As you read on, you'll find Anne Douglas' article a moving personal story. Anne's rare perspective allows her to both appreciate her inherited wealth and to acknowledge the long struggle to gain control over her money and her life. John Hopkins' thoughtful approach to gifting will give you insight into the potential difficulties parents and children face if the emotional implications of gifts are ignored. John's insights are based on many years of professional observation and experience.

Five Key Reasons to Talk about Estate Planning In families, members often don't learn about the estate plan until the will is read. At times that's appropriate; often it is not. Here are five reasons why it may be a good idea to talk to your family about distribution of the estate before your death.

Prevents misunderstanding between parents and children. There had always been, Ted thought, tension and distance between him and his father. Ted was self supporting, but had never lived a traditional life style of career, wife and family. As "the black sheep of the family," he assumed that, when his father died, he would get less than his siblings. His grandfather, after all, had left him a smaller share of his estate, a decision he found unfair and hurtful. Eventually, Ted's father told the family that he was going to distribute the estate equally. Ted had misread his father's plans, and he later learned that he had misinterpreted his father's distance. It was not disapproval, but preoccupation that had created the distance, and his father was sorry.

Prevents unrealistic expectations. Al and Valerie's' two children had each received a distribution at age 21 and 35. Now the children were in their early forties and the parents wondered whether to tell them the details of their will. I asked Al and Valerie, "Do you have a sense of what they think they're going to get?" Their guess: about two million. When they asked their kids what they thought their inheritance would be, both guessed 1 1/2-2 million. The real number was going to be less than a million. After more thought and discussion, Al and Valerie told their children. Though disappointed, the children welcomed the information.

Supports the planning of the next generation. As adult children begin retirement and estate planning, their attorney may ask, "Do you know about your parents' estate planning? There may be important tax implications." As Bob and his wife Sarah began their planning and asked Bob's father about his estate planning, the response was, "You'll get enough." When Bob showed his father his own net worth, his retirement plan, and the tax implications of his own estate, he and his father talked and did some joint planning which brought them closer together.

Protects sibling relationships when the parents die. In one situation I worked with, dad left a greater percentage of his assets to one of his four sons - Jerry, a school teacher with less income than the other three. They were upset when they learned from the will that dad was leaving Jerry more. He had told Jerry, "You don't have the same earning power as your brothers," but had not told them. By not sharing the decision his dad left Jerry a legacy of guilt and resentful feelings from his brothers which even a simple letter with the will could have prevented.

Allows the adult child to separate the grief over aparent's death from the feelings about the will. A year after she had received her share of her mother's estate, Sally had already gone through a quarter of the million dollars. None of it had been invested. She told me, "I just can't stop spending." Her mother had left her a third less than either her brother or her sister and never said a word to her. Sally knew it was to keep her husband Randy from getting to the money. Sally's spending was her way of expressing her anger and getting back at her mother. As she sorted out her loving feelings from her pain, her spending slowed and she invested her money.

PERSONAL EXPERIENCE

Rebuilding a Barn; Rebuilding a Life
by Anne Douglas

As I gaze out my studio window at the ragged palisades that overlook this northern California farm, how satisfying to see that I have conquered the monsters wealth had created in my life, put into motion a plan to change my life, and created my own dream! This room was built from an old barn which I tore down, re-built from scratch, and sided with the old lumber. It is beautiful and new, simple and old. It feels authentic. Not unlike how I now see myself.

A twice-divorced forty-something single parent, I spent most of my life hiding my wealth and feeling ashamed that I could have so much and be so deeply unhappy. I had lived by inherited standards with inherited wealth, in fancy houses in proper neighborhoods, and within social contexts of 'shoulds' and 'oughts', trying awkwardly to give back some of what I felt I owed.

My wealth was given to me in stages randomly chosen by my mother and father. At each stage, twenty-one, twenty-five and thirty, I was presumed to have reached a maturity equal to the amount of money given to me. I remember, on a crisp Saturday morning just after my twenty-first birthday, going to my father's office. I was to be married the next weekend, was tired and stressed out, but my father had decided that this was the moment for the next step.

RESPONSIBILITY GIVEN AWAY My fiancé and I walked towards the handsome carved doors of the office suite. Hand-in-hand, entered the sacred, scary place where big deals were made and the records were kept, including the black book, the portfolio of my investments. I had never seen it, nor did I know what it contained. The only thing I knew about managing finances was the bogus monthly accounting of my allowance spending I sent Dad to get the next check. I watched my father hand Anthony my investment portfolio, and say to him, "Anne doesn't know much about this and its time you learned. All decisions are to be made by her Trustee, but you should be at every meeting." My rite of passage—apart from becoming a wife—was being taken away. It would be years before I retrieved it, but I was actually relieved. The black book was mysterious and threatening, like the wealth I'd been born with.

FEAR OF MONEY I was always ashamed and afraid of it, afraid of being liked or judged by it. As a child, I worked shining Dad's shoes, weeding and doing other chores so I could have my own money. I hid it. I stashed it, and when I spent it, I felt powerful; my own purchases had a real value. In their own way, my parents tried to teach the value of 'earning' what you got; my parents paid lavishly to make me the best possible equestrienne, but the money came tied with strings, and guilt. To 'earn' my horses and lessons, I had to give things up, like ski trips with friends. On some level I 'owed' them something in return for the privilege of riding.

My parents also gave me many implicit and explicit messages about who I should be relative to my money. One positive message was that we should help the less fortunate and support worthy causes. Although generous in their check writing, they preferred to avoid hands-on involvement in uncomfortable social problems. When they saw the poor Mexican gardener's wife in need, for example, they dived in with kindness and abundant checks. But my volunteer work with adolescents at the Neuro-Psychiatric Institute was threatening to them as "those people are not like us," not of our social class. Our values were in constant conflict as I tried to follow my own impulses, and to give in my own way.

MEN AND MONEY The most damaging messages about money had to do with men. Since my mother had the dollars and my father had successfully made his own fortune and increased hers, my father's attitude was: A woman uses her money to 'make' a man, but, at the same time, keeps it separate in case he is only after the gold. I learned that what men really want is my money, not me. My self-worth was damaged. I grew suspicious of people's motives in befriending me.

My money has largely contributed to my two divorces, events I barely survived. I tried to make men happy and used my money to bolster fragile egos and win love. It has been painful to learn that, although I might have made bad choices, I had nothing to do with my men's failures in the marriages - emotional, physical, or financial, that I did not owe them all of me and all I had been given. I had to learn that men and women must break free from false, inherited definitions of who they are and create themselves, an internal process that takes time and courage, not millions of dollars.

The learning began when my parents died. When I was twenty-nine, unhappily married and mother of two small children, my father suddenly died, leaving a large and complicated estate that became a sticky spiderweb that snared all of us for generations. Two years later I was divorced and struggling when my mother died, leaving an even larger estate. Within four months, I was re-married, still struggling and my youngest sister drowned. I was emotionally devastated and overwhelmed. I inherited millions of dollars and I mountains of fear and shame.

When, a couple of weeks after Dad's death, I received my share of his life insurance, I was so terrified that I took my two young children out on a cold, rainy December afternoon and gave the check away to a worthy cause, as I talked about the spirit of giving. I've often wondered if they knew how sad, guilty and abandoned I felt.

At first, I was intimidated by all the complex technicalities of my wealth. I looked to my second husband to help me understand the guardianships for my children and the trusts for my benefit and theirs, and to make decisions about our future. We had two beautiful twin boys and what I thought was a chance to do things differently and happily. I was wrong. When Lawrence left to pursue an academic career, free from the responsibility of family or money, I knew that I could no longer rely on men to run my life. I felt inadequate and ignorant, yet desperate to finally take charge of my own affairs.

As I made the transition from passive to active participant in taking charge, I felt deeply resentful of the time it took and of the horrible feelings that surrounded the family money. I was expected to know what to do and who to enlist for help. Where was my own life beyond these self-punishing expectations?

TAKING CHARGE But, forced to take responsibility, it began to happen. My creative energies started running rampant. I was writing fiction, and discovered a gift for teaching. Teaching young children about drugs, alcohol and sexuality, I thrived on the anonymity of the classroom and gained a perspective, there, on other people's backgrounds and attitudes. As my self-worth began to grow, I was more open and honest, unafraid to reveal how I felt and what I thought about important issues. Increasingly, I was admired, trusted, sought out for who I was. I took such pride in receiving a paycheck. It was small compared to the large income I received every month, but it represented freedom to live and to give without guilt.

I have slowly created my own financial system, one that fits my needs. I have changed investment counselors and tax accountants according to my fluctuating comfort levels with giving up being dependent, or a victim. I have learned to ask questions without feeling stupid or ashamed. I am proud of what I have learned on my own, and of how capable I have become. My money is just one thing that I have been given. Whether or not I deserve it is not a relevant question. I have it and it has made a difference in my life.

When I encounter people who seem more interested in what I can do for them than in me, I am not afraid to leave the relationship. I am now fully capable and competent to take care of myself and my children. What I most need in a - relationship is love and respect, an honoring of my autonomy. Men do not have to support me financially to prove their love for me.

I have made it my responsibility - as my parents did not - to inform and educate my children about their futures. I do not have family secrets about how much money I have or they will one day have. I hope that they will be sufficiently mature and confident to use their money to enhance their lives. I hope that their self-worth is founded on their great qualities as human beings, and on their individual accomplishments. I hope that they will share their wealth with those who are less fortunate.

From the top of the Palisades I get a rare view of my farm and of this beautiful valley. I can see my dream clearly and admire the growth of the vines and enclave I have designed and built for my family. This is mine because of my parents' generosity, because of all that they left behind, including their wealth. How many times I've giggled at the make-shift shower hanging off the side of the kitchen, and said to myself, "Oh, Mum, you'd die if you saw this." She wouldn't like the shower, but I know that she would like what I am doing, and the fact that I am free. Dad would be proud that I dared to move and to continue and even expand the business I bought with this land. Mum and Dad would love my children, each bright and talented, independent and strong. They would laugh at our family sing-alongs by the fire pit we dug by the creek and they would weep with joy to know the strong, honest bonds we have between us. I have what I most want, and I am what I want to be. I am a successful parent, a happy woman, and now keep my own 'black book'!

Ann Douglas is a native Californian and was raised in the Bay Area. She has taught birthing and child development classes, is a writer and a mother of four childre