AUTHOR: Mike Gaynes on 4/5/2026 FIRST: Doug C on 4/5 | RECENT: R Quinn on 4/13
Comments
Interesting perspective, considering that government resources around the world were heavily involved in researching and diagnosing the virus, providing medical resources that saved millions of lives (including the masks that "did absolutely nothing") and distributing the vaccines that prevented further spread of the pandemic. Perhaps you might suggest an alternative resource besides government that might have accomplished all this?
Deepest condolences on your losses, Andrew. It's amazing, isn't it, how these tragedies come in clusters? And my I offer strongest endorsements of your warnings. My story is not dissimilar to yours. Please forgive the length, but I think it's illustrative. My dad kept a metal box on the top shelf of the linen closet in our family home near Chicago, where he now lived with his girlfriend. The box contained his will and the house and car titles and every other document that his passing would require. And every time I came home from wherever I was living around the country doing TV news, we did a quick review of the box. On July 2, 1993, two days after my dad and his girlfriend had come out to visit me in Rhode Island (we had stuffed ourselves at the Lobster Festival), she called me to tell me he had died suddenly, shockingly, at 58. I was on a plane to Chicago the next morning, and she and I walked into the bathroom together to get the box down from the shelf. It was empty. Empty. They'd been planning a trip to Arizona, and as best I could guess in later years, he'd been planning to surprise her with a marital side trip to Vegas. I still assume that to keep it a complete surprise, he had taken all the papers to some lawyer to change his will, add her name to the house title and bank accounts etc. without telling her. We tore his home office apart but never found the name of a lawyer or any indication of where all the documents were. So legally he had died intestate. What followed was six months of probate hell. I dealt with two lawyers, an accountant, various city and county legal authorities, a judge, and two acidic siblings who didn't trust me to give them their fair share -- as well as the onerous realty process Andrew describes in his article. All at a distance of a thousand miles while the girlfriend stayed in the house to keep it safe. Even when I could sell the house, it sat on the market for weeks. I finally sold it in the middle of producing the 5:30 newscast at WJAR-TV in Providence. My dad's girlfriend's realtor called me on the studio phone at 5:35 with the buyers in the house. Between news stories and giving directions to the live reporters, I negotiated with the buyers, and by the end of the weather segment, we had a deal. The remaining financial processes in probate were still to be completed, but nine months after his death, I finally had my dad's slender estate money distributed, all the debts paid off, and my dad's car towing a U-Haul full of his furniture to California... where I started a new life with it.
Thanks for posting this, Doug. Brilliant idea. I've taken it on as a priority assignment, which means using it as an excuse to get to the gym a little later this morning. 10 things I’m doing more as an old guy: 1. Making it a point to savor something about every day. Being the first male in my family to reach age 70 – after beating Stage 4 cancer – demands proper appreciation and gratitude for the little stuff.
2. Smiling. I realize I’ve looked serious most of my life, even though I didn’t feel that way. Now I make it a point to smile at everybody. (Now if I could only make it a little less creepy.)
3. Uber, definitely Uber, and riding the ferryboat even when driving would be faster. I HATE looking for parking.
4. Giving back. Meals on Wheels and other charitable time make me feel so good.
5. Reading histories and biographies. What happened before is terrific perspective on what I’m experiencing now.
6. Singing better. My interest in music is entirely participatory, and after a lifetime of just belting or crooning, I’m now in a barbershop chorus where proper technique is emphasized. Cool.
7. Being avuncular. I have a new role as an oracle for my nephew and other young relatives, and I love it.
8. Laughing more when I referee soccer. I was known as an authoritative ref. Took me this long to realize I have to give out fewer cards when I keep things humorous. Works for life in general.
9. Punching it up in the gym. And flexing in the mirror. And bragging about it to my wife.
10. Lying about my age, to the upside. I’m only 69 but I tell everyone I’m 70 because it feels like such an achievement. (And in the Chinese culture that dominates my household, I’m 70 anyway.) 10 things I am trying to stop doing, with varying success: 1. Losing my temper. This is a huge one, and my greatest success. When I need to vent, I do it where nobody can hear me. And I haven’t punched anybody since I was 57. (Yeah, yeah, I know...)
2. Complaining. My type 1 diabetes and heel tendinitis are daily frustrations if I allow them to be, but I work on not whining about them.
3. Feeling guilty about my failures in eating healthy. That ice cream bar may represent a character flaw, but it’s not gonna kill me.
4. Worrying about money. (Good luck with that one right now…)
5. Getting upset about politics. (Good luck with that one right now…)
6. Driving too fast. So what if I get there a minute or two later?
7. Obsessing about my roses. They’re fine. No, they don’t need more mulch.
8. Wondering if every new pain is the cancer coming back. It isn’t. You’re fine. Chill, dude. (Another major success… less worry every year.)
9. Feeling left out because I don’t like pickleball. I know so many seniors who love it, but I just hate that sound.
10. Feeling urgency about the last lap of my life. If I get to Ireland, great, but it feels more and more OK if I don’t. And now, after a pre-scheduled tummy rub for the dog, I’m off to the gym.
Terrific list, doc. My top three are the same as yours (my current book is about the War of 1812) but to me the gratitude and appreciation of every day are crucial. I'm the first male in my family to live past 60, and it took beating a terminal cancer diagnosis to get here. Failing to savor every Mount Rainier sunrise (when it's clear enough), dog walk and Cubs victory would be more than ingratitude -- it would be Life Malpractice.
Comments
Interesting perspective, considering that government resources around the world were heavily involved in researching and diagnosing the virus, providing medical resources that saved millions of lives (including the masks that "did absolutely nothing") and distributing the vaccines that prevented further spread of the pandemic. Perhaps you might suggest an alternative resource besides government that might have accomplished all this?
Post: Staying Rational
Link to comment from April 19, 2026
Yes, millions of people died worldwide but a virus had absolutely nothing to do with it. Thanks for the clarification.
Post: Staying Rational
Link to comment from April 19, 2026
Deepest condolences on your losses, Andrew. It's amazing, isn't it, how these tragedies come in clusters? And my I offer strongest endorsements of your warnings. My story is not dissimilar to yours. Please forgive the length, but I think it's illustrative. My dad kept a metal box on the top shelf of the linen closet in our family home near Chicago, where he now lived with his girlfriend. The box contained his will and the house and car titles and every other document that his passing would require. And every time I came home from wherever I was living around the country doing TV news, we did a quick review of the box. On July 2, 1993, two days after my dad and his girlfriend had come out to visit me in Rhode Island (we had stuffed ourselves at the Lobster Festival), she called me to tell me he had died suddenly, shockingly, at 58. I was on a plane to Chicago the next morning, and she and I walked into the bathroom together to get the box down from the shelf. It was empty. Empty. They'd been planning a trip to Arizona, and as best I could guess in later years, he'd been planning to surprise her with a marital side trip to Vegas. I still assume that to keep it a complete surprise, he had taken all the papers to some lawyer to change his will, add her name to the house title and bank accounts etc. without telling her. We tore his home office apart but never found the name of a lawyer or any indication of where all the documents were. So legally he had died intestate. What followed was six months of probate hell. I dealt with two lawyers, an accountant, various city and county legal authorities, a judge, and two acidic siblings who didn't trust me to give them their fair share -- as well as the onerous realty process Andrew describes in his article. All at a distance of a thousand miles while the girlfriend stayed in the house to keep it safe. Even when I could sell the house, it sat on the market for weeks. I finally sold it in the middle of producing the 5:30 newscast at WJAR-TV in Providence. My dad's girlfriend's realtor called me on the studio phone at 5:35 with the buyers in the house. Between news stories and giving directions to the live reporters, I negotiated with the buyers, and by the end of the weather segment, we had a deal. The remaining financial processes in probate were still to be completed, but nine months after his death, I finally had my dad's slender estate money distributed, all the debts paid off, and my dad's car towing a U-Haul full of his furniture to California... where I started a new life with it.
Post: My sister’s will and what it taught me.
Link to comment from April 12, 2026
Thanks for posting this, Doug. Brilliant idea. I've taken it on as a priority assignment, which means using it as an excuse to get to the gym a little later this morning. 10 things I’m doing more as an old guy: 1. Making it a point to savor something about every day. Being the first male in my family to reach age 70 – after beating Stage 4 cancer – demands proper appreciation and gratitude for the little stuff. 2. Smiling. I realize I’ve looked serious most of my life, even though I didn’t feel that way. Now I make it a point to smile at everybody. (Now if I could only make it a little less creepy.) 3. Uber, definitely Uber, and riding the ferryboat even when driving would be faster. I HATE looking for parking. 4. Giving back. Meals on Wheels and other charitable time make me feel so good. 5. Reading histories and biographies. What happened before is terrific perspective on what I’m experiencing now. 6. Singing better. My interest in music is entirely participatory, and after a lifetime of just belting or crooning, I’m now in a barbershop chorus where proper technique is emphasized. Cool. 7. Being avuncular. I have a new role as an oracle for my nephew and other young relatives, and I love it. 8. Laughing more when I referee soccer. I was known as an authoritative ref. Took me this long to realize I have to give out fewer cards when I keep things humorous. Works for life in general. 9. Punching it up in the gym. And flexing in the mirror. And bragging about it to my wife. 10. Lying about my age, to the upside. I’m only 69 but I tell everyone I’m 70 because it feels like such an achievement. (And in the Chinese culture that dominates my household, I’m 70 anyway.) 10 things I am trying to stop doing, with varying success: 1. Losing my temper. This is a huge one, and my greatest success. When I need to vent, I do it where nobody can hear me. And I haven’t punched anybody since I was 57. (Yeah, yeah, I know...) 2. Complaining. My type 1 diabetes and heel tendinitis are daily frustrations if I allow them to be, but I work on not whining about them. 3. Feeling guilty about my failures in eating healthy. That ice cream bar may represent a character flaw, but it’s not gonna kill me. 4. Worrying about money. (Good luck with that one right now…) 5. Getting upset about politics. (Good luck with that one right now…) 6. Driving too fast. So what if I get there a minute or two later? 7. Obsessing about my roses. They’re fine. No, they don’t need more mulch. 8. Wondering if every new pain is the cancer coming back. It isn’t. You’re fine. Chill, dude. (Another major success… less worry every year.) 9. Feeling left out because I don’t like pickleball. I know so many seniors who love it, but I just hate that sound. 10. Feeling urgency about the last lap of my life. If I get to Ireland, great, but it feels more and more OK if I don’t. And now, after a pre-scheduled tummy rub for the dog, I’m off to the gym.
Post: Getting Older
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
Amen, Doug. Being able to use that perspective to benefit the ones you love is even better!
Post: Getting Older
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
Terrific list, doc. My top three are the same as yours (my current book is about the War of 1812) but to me the gratitude and appreciation of every day are crucial. I'm the first male in my family to live past 60, and it took beating a terminal cancer diagnosis to get here. Failing to savor every Mount Rainier sunrise (when it's clear enough), dog walk and Cubs victory would be more than ingratitude -- it would be Life Malpractice.
Post: Getting Older
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
"HumbleDollar was never meant to be loud. It was meant to be thoughtful." What a superb sentence. Thank you, Andrew.
Post: Carrying Humble Dollar Forward
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
Amen, Greg.
Post: Carrying Humble Dollar Forward
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
Very wise, fellow Duck!
Post: Recency Bias (or: You’re Running Buggy Software)
Link to comment from April 8, 2026
May your family be fruitful and multiply, Cindy!
Post: Financial regrets about parenthood?
Link to comment from April 6, 2026