Uncle George's Legacy

I always knew I had an Uncle George. Or, rather, that Daddy and Aunt Pauline had one. As a child, I heard about long ago Christmases with Uncle George as Santa. When I was a teenager, Aunt Pauline told me, in reverend tones “Uncle George and Uncle Ben” – his older brother – “were very prominent in the Swedish community in Chicago.” Since all the stories were old ones and there were no Christmas or birthday cards, presents or invitations, I naturally assumed that, like my grandfather, Uncle George had passed away years before. Imagine my surprise at the end of Christmas vacation my Junior Year of college when I learned that he had just died and we were going to his Visitation. So I did see him once, laid out, according to his instructions, in the flamboyant red robes he wore as “Sir Bacchus” -- chairman of the Wine and Food Society he had, apparently, loved. The only picture I have of him is much less colorful, I’m afraid.

After the funeral, things really got interesting. Uncle George, a lawyer, childless and, as far as I know never married, had left a detailed will. As a fan of Agatha Christie, it seemed quite normal to me but caused great discussion among the older members of the family. After leaving sums of money to various people who took care of him, he put the bulk of his estate into trust for three generations of nieces and nephews. His surviving niece and two nephews (aged between 55 and 68 at the time of his death) were to receive a sum of money annually until their death – not enough money to retire on, certainly, but enough to add small luxuries to each year. My two oldest first cousins received a smaller amount of money, to be paid annually until their deaths. Uncle George had seemingly not taken into consideration that an amount that seemed generous at the time of his will might not buy as many luxuries twenty years later. Daddy was annoyed, too, because he felt I had been slighted. I was his daughter just as the other two were his sister’s daughters. Why was I left out? My pragmatic mother remarked that since Daddy hadn’t seen his uncle for years, he should be glad Uncle George remembered our part of the family at all. For I was included in the final step of the trust. After the death of all the previously named beneficiaries, the money left was to be divided among the other great and great-great nieces and nephews Uncle George had been aware of. Two years ago it was time for this final step – and for the biggest surprise. One of the beneficiaries was a person we had never known. I vaguely remembered hearing about her and knew she was the daughter of my Uncle Bill. But I had never met him, let alone her. Thanks to modern data banks and technology, within a few months our “lost cousin” had been located. She was even more surprised than we had been. Her parents had been divorced when she was a baby and she was brought up in an entirely different family unit. Talk about Agatha Christie! And so, more than 42 years after Uncle George’s death, I flew from Paris to California to meet my cousin and her family. Very pleased we are with our legacy.