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Dear Ann Landers,
or the last 20 years (maybe 30) my aunt has been saying, "I really ought to make a will." She never did. Last week she died, and before the body was cold my cousins were fighting over her possessions. It was an ugly spectacle. Some months ago my mother gave me an antique silver service. Later I found out she had promised it to my sister. We are both dis-tressed by mother's forgetfulness, and neither of us wants to hurt her feelings by mentioning her previous commitment. My sister is not greedy and neither am I. We can live with whatever the most recent will decrees. I realize that making a will is an admission of the inevitability of death. While this understandably is difficult, one of the most thought-ful gestures a parent can make is to draw up a will or simply a hand-written paper designating what he or she wishes done with material possessions. Please urge parents (everyone, for that matter) to ease the burden of their passing by making a will. And do it today-there may not be a tomorrow.
Dear Anywhere,
Most people (about 99 percent) hate to make a will because they are certain they will cash in their chips the very next day. This, of course, is nonsense. I pose a question to every person reading these words. If you died tomorrow, would your money, home, furnishings, clothing and jewelry go to those individuals you want to have them? The best way to make sure your wishes are respected is to sit down with a pad and pencil and write down all the objects you want to give away and to whom. Then think about your liquid assets. Do you want to leave specific gifts to special friends and the charities you support or admire? Call a lawyer and have it put in the form of a legal document. If you die without a will in many states, the court will award one-half of your estate to a surviving spouse and one-half to the children. J 2 Ii ANN LAN IIF RS The final word from here is: Age is only a number,; baby. Forty isn't 40 any-more, and 80 isn't 80 anymore, either. Life Begins at 80 Frank Laubacb I have good news for you. The first 80 years are the hardest. The sec-ond 80 are a succession of birthday parties. Once you reach 80, everyone wants to carry your baggage and help you up the steps. If you forget your name or anybody else's name, or an appointment, or your own telephone number, or promise to be three places at the same time, or can't remember how many grandchildren you have, you need only explain that you are 80. Being 80 is a lot better than being 70. At 70 people are mad at you for everything. At 80 you have, a perfect excuse no matter what you do. If you act foolishly, it's your second childhood. Everybody is looking for symptoms of softening of the brain. Being 70 is no fun at all. At that age they expect you to retire to a house in Florida and complain about your arthritis (they used to call it lumbago) and you ask everybody to stop mumbling because you can't understand them. (Actually your hearing is about 50 percent gone.) If you survive until you are 80, everybody is surprised that you are still alive. They treat you with respect just for having lived so long. Ac-tually they seem surprised that you can walk and talk sensibly. So please, folks, try to make it to 80. It's the best time of life. People forgive you for anything. If you ask me, life begins at 80. For more information, contact: American Association of Retired Persons 601 E Street NW Washington, D.C. 20049 (202) 434-2277 Alzheimer's Association 919 N. Michigan Ave. Suite 1000 Chicago, IL 60611-1676 (800)272-3900 For living wills, contact: Harvard Health-Medical Directive P.O. Box 380 Boston, MA 02117 (Send $6 for two copies) Nice WorK If You Can Cel It We spend a huge portion of our lives at our jobs. It's only to be expected that a lot of my mail deals with work or lack of it, not to mention annoying bosses and irritating coworkers. The Secretary's Prayer Dear Lord, help me to do my work well, to have the memory of an elephant and by some miracle to be able to do five things at once: an-swer four telephones while typing a letter that "must go out today." When the letter doesn't get signed until tomorrow, please give me the strength to keep my mouth shut. Dear Lord, never let me lose my patience, even when the boss has me searching files for hours for the report that later is discovered on his desk. Give me the intelligence of a college professor, although my educa-tion is limited to a high school diploma and secretarial training. Help me to read his mind and his handwriting and carry out all in-structions without explanation. Let me always know exactly where my boss is and when he'll be back, even though he never tells me these things. And Lord, when the year ends, please give me the foresight not to throw out records that will be asked for in a couple of days even though I was told emphatically, "Destroy these; they are cluttering up the place." I ask these blessings, dear Lord, in the name of secretaries everyS