estate full of money, husband full of glue

As I've mentioned, my aunt was difficult and mean and very old-fashioned and conservative. We had had a poor relationship for the past 25-30 years; it mostly consisted of her criticizing me. If she couldn't find anything current to complain about, she would criticize something I did 20 years ago, or maybe criticize my brother. The last time I saw her, she was so outright cruel to me that I cried for an entire day afterward. This was about a year before she died; after that, on advice of my husband, my therapist and my psychiatrist, I stopped contacting her. She tried to call me several months ago, and we played a little phone tag, but she wouldn't leave voice mail or accept voice mail, so we never did speak.

However - she left my brother and me a shitload of money. The problem is that her will and a trust were prepared by a lawyer cousin of hers from Florida; he is the executor of the will and trustee of the trust. Ten years after, he was suspended from practicing law for failure to report on trusts and commingling trust monies. My aunt left a very good and organized set of papers: copies of the will and trust, info on the safe deposit box, etc. (Her apartment, however, was pure hoarder.) When I called the cousin, he said something like, "Gee whiz, it was such a long time ago, I don't think I have that will, I don't remember anything about a trust." I sent him (certified, return receipt) copies of all of the relevant paperwork, including copies of the check and bank receipt that opened the trust. He has probably had it in hand for about four days now (I sent copies to my brother at the same time, and he's had them for days). Hasn't called me yet, no surprise.

When I called the cousin, I gave him the benefit of the doubt; surely he wouldn't have messed with his cousin's estate. I was still on the fence after we spoke, but here's why I think he is utterly untrustworthy: one of the things he said to me was, "I don't think you could afford my services as executor." I later found out that an executor is, by law, paid a certain percentage of the estate, depending on the state and the amount of the estate - somewhere around 3-6%. I would not have to go out of pocket at all. So not only was he basically lying, but he did one thing that really pushes my buttons: acting as if I were stupid. That's something that never fails to really, really piss me off. I want a lawyer who will punch this guy out in some legal way.

Since the trustee is only required to report the trust finances at death, I had no idea what was in the trust, or supposed to be in the trust. The trustee is legally required to send me this info within 60 days after it is requested. But in the past few weeks, through various sorts of research and some papers sent by her long-time employer, I've discovered that there's a lot of money in all kinds of places. I've also learned that a copy of a will can be filed for probate, and a trust can also be valid with a copy. So it's time for an estate attorney. Since my brother and I are her only heirs, we will eventually come into a really good sum of money. The problem is that it could take a very, very long time.




Barry noticed a bump on his wrist tonight and got very freaked out. I said it was probably from drumming at a jam yesterday, or related to his carpel tunnel, or a ganglion cyst. Luckily, our doctor is a block away and open until 8:00 PM, and he said it was a ganglion cyst. "It's like gloooo," said he, in his Syrian-Jewish accent. He sprayed on some freeze and extracted it with a needle. "See," he said, pumping a bit out of the syringe onto a bit of gauze, "Gloooo." The doctor was very impressed that I knew what a ganglion cyst was and called me "Doctor Levy." I have to admit to being fairly interested in looking at dermatology videos online; the contents of a ganglion cyst are usually described as being a "gel," but I think I like "glooo" better. My husband is now glooo-free.

the rabbi sang "My Way"

It was a pretty bad funeral today. My Aunt Mara died on Tuesday, not unexpectedly. And, as I've seen happen often at Reform funerals, the rabbi had never met my aunt and asked a few of the attendees about her (NOT including my brother and me). So he talked a lot about her kindness (not to us0 and her "determined individuality" (aka pigheadedness) and then he sang a couple of stanzas of "My Way." How truly awful was that?

Apparently my aunt was very kindhearted to certain friends and more distant relatives, but was quite unkind to my brother and me. Out conversations over the past 20 years mostly involved her criticizing me - and if she was having trouble finding something current to criticize, she dragged up things I did of which she did not approve from some 30 years earlier. She was hospitalized for a heart attack about a year ago, and at my second visit, she was so horrible to me that I never went back. I cried the entire next day because I really loved her. But she hadn't had a kind word for me in many, many years. For that reason, I didn't call her very often.

I went over it with my husband, my psychiatrist, and my therapist, all of whom had the same thing to say: you don't have to see her.

So I had a call on Tuesday from one of my cousins on Tuesday, who told me the funeral details, and my brother and I did go. (I'm not on the best terms with my brother, either, but we put that aside for the day.)

She was basically a recluse since IBM early-retired her about 25 years ago. For a while, she didn't even have a phone.

I am dreading going through her hoarder-ish apartment. I have been dreading that for years, ever since I heard from one of her neighbors that her formerly neat-as-a-pin residence (where she'd been for over 55 years). However, there are things there that belong to me. When my mother died in 1981, she "held" all of my mother's jewelry - which was actually a good move, since I was pretty wild and irresponsible then. But even as I grew older, she never turned it over to me. There is also jewelry from my grandmother which she said would pass to me. (My brother and I are her closest relatives, as she never married and was my mother's only sister.) Some of this is supposedly in a safe deposit box. These are all things she told me, unbidden, as well as that she planned to divide her money between my brother and me.

None of us are sure what still exists, and if there was any money left, and if there is a valid will. This is less about greed than about having some of these very sentimental items.Also, the fact that when she told me about this, and showed  me a lot of her jewelry, was actually a very good memory. There are certainly a few other mementos I'd like to have, to remember those better times.

Since my brother lives in Rhode Island, it will probably be up to me to find a will and take care of everything. The apartment stuff will have to be taken care of relatively quickly, as the landlord will want it back very soon. I have almost no idea where to start.

I will at some later time talk about her in more detail. She was a very complicated and difficult person. I cried quite a bit, but not without remembering the roadblocks she put up against our having a decent relationship.

music anorexia

That's how I think of it. I sometimes go for long periods of time without listening to music, which is just plain crazy, because so much of my life has been built around music. I can't explain it in any way.

So I've just snapped out of it, and reactivated my Sansa mp3 player (since I don't like listening to music on my phone). My intention was to listen to music I haven't heard before, but when I saw the old familiars that were already on it...I did delete a bunch of them, but mostly added music I knew well. Though I did load a couple of albums I haven't heard: Wise Up Ghost by Elvis Costello & The Roots, an Alabama Shakes EP, and John Lennon's Rock n' Roll (how ridiculous is it that I've never heard the latter?).

Also bought me some new headphones that arrived today.

Speaking of the Beatles...I realized at some point within the past few years that I know all of the lyrics to all of the songs from the band albums (not the solo ones). That certainly happened without my even trying. I think that seats me firmly within my generation.

When I go on trips from the dayhab, whoever is driving the van chooses the music. I often seem to end up with a counselor who loves country music (which strikes me as odd for an orthodox Jewish guy from New York). He will sometimes defer to me and put on an "oldies" station. (I remember when "oldies" meant the 1950s, but whatever.) One day, we reached our destination, but he kindly sat in the car while I sang along to Werewolves of London.

visit to Loisaida and Chinatown

Barry left his phone on a bus yesterday, so I ran out and bought him a new one. He's in the middle of a 2-1/2 day shift (Succos duty) and can't live without his phone. He's on it a lot of the day, mostly looking at Facebook and YouTube music videos.

I went to deliver it today; I would have done it yesterday, but they were doing weekend work on the F train and the trains weren't stopping at our station (which is why Barry was on a bus yesterday).

The residence where he works is on the lower east side of Manhattan (aka Loisaida). I'd never been there before, so I visited for a while. Got to meet a couple of the counselors there, plus I got to see two of the clients who come to my dayhab (five men from Barry's residence come to my dayhab). The residence is really nice, his coworkers were quite nice, and it was good to see the two Maxes outside of dayhab. They are both very sweet guys and my hands-down favorites from the East Broadway residence.

The neighborhood is very mixed and kind of cool. It used to be heavily Jewish (Barry was actually born there), and there's some Jewish left, but also a lot of Hispanic folk, a lot of Chinese (since it's right next to Chinatown), and some hipsters starting to colonize.

Since I finally got an anti-glare screen put on my phone when I bought Barry's yesterday, I can now actually see my screen when I was outdoors, so I walked down Canal Street a bit (which is where Chinatown starts) and took a couple of photos.

Beautiful Chinatown building:

Chinatown firehouse door:

I also found a Chinese store that sells nothing but jerky. I'm a fan of jerky but am never happy with those expensive little bags, with all of the chemicals added. I was once in an all-jerky store in Jim Thorpe, PA, but it was all "artisanal" and expensive. This place was a lot cheaper than either, so I bought a quarter-pound each of spicy beef and regular pork. (They also had chicken, and shrimp.) Absolutely delish, much softer than regular jerky.

It was a lovely day to be walking around, and I hadn't been in that part of town for years.

where to begin again

Recovering, then unemployment running out, then job-hunting was rather nightmarish. Job-hunting was particularly bad. With 30+ years of office experience and several finely-tuned resumes, I couldn't get arrested. No offers, even for plain old administrative assistant jobs paying $24K. I applied to every single analytic institute in the area, since that's such specific experience. Two interviews, no job. (I did find out later on that one had hired from within.)

So I made a radical change. I am now a Direct Service Professional, working at a day habilitation center ("dayhab") for developmentally disabled men and women. I work for the same Jewish non-profit as Barry, except that he works overnight at a residence for men, and I work days.

We have about 60 clients and close to 20 counselors. (The clients are properly called "individuals" these days, though in the past they were called "clients" or "consumers," and a lot of us use "clients" because it's easier. And we say "DD" for developmentally disabled. We counselors actually have the title of "Dayhab Trainer," but we are called "counselors." "Direct Service Professional" is our profession - in the past, it was called "Direct Care Worker" or "Direct Care Professional.")

Our clients range from low- to high-functioning. The activities range from education to entertainment; puzzles, math worksheets, walks outdoors, cooking and baking, shopping, Jewish learning and Hebrew, dance and exercise, computers, etc. The idea is to help improve the clients' lives in at least some small way. Some already have part-time jobs and some are preparing to get jobs.

All of the individuals and most of the counselors are orthodox Jews of some stripe. Everyone is very tolerant of everyone else, although some of the clients can't quite wrap their minds around my being Jewish but not being religious. So I get asked a lot if I'm going to shul or fasting on Yom Kippur. Cooking is a big activity, since some of the clients may eventually move to independent living situations. We have a big kosher dairy/parve kitchen (parve meaning neither dairy nor meat), and make things like cholent, challah and kugel.

OK: cholent is a slow-cooked vegetable stew, traditional for Shabbos since it can be prepared on Friday morning and eaten Friday night, since you can't cook on Shabbos. Challah is a traditional braided bread, also eaten on Shabbas. Kugel is a side dish, sort of a baked pudding, usually made with noodles and eggs, but there's also potato kugel (and I've made sweet potato kugel as well). I never made or ate cholent before I worked there, and it's kick-ass delicious, made with beans, potatoes, barley, and just about any kind of seasoning you can imagine. It can also be made with meat. We make it on Thursday in a huge slow-cooker and serve it for lunch/snack on Fridays. (Did I mention that we only work until 2:00 on Fridays? I also lucked out because my therapist was able to give me a Friday 4:00 PM session; my job is in Sheepshead Bay, deep in Brooklyn.)

But these are the details. After three months, I find I enjoy working with the clients. It's low-pressure and satisfying, for the most part. Most of the clients are quite nice and understand us well, for the most part, although some have very limited communication skills. Some don't speak at all, while some could pass for non-DD. I haven't looked at the diagnostic logs yet, but there's a lot of autism and OCD going on. We have maybe five Down Syndrome clients, and they're all pretty smart (and a couple of them are rather devious).

They also get very attached to us, since they spend most of their days with us during the week. They all work with all of us, but each counselor certainly has a little fan club.

It's set up like this: there are AM and PM groups (45 minutes each) with the same counselors and the same clients every day. (I have GED in the morning, which is basically 1st-3rd grade worksheets, and writing/journaling in the afternoon. The afternoon group is kind of a bust: we only have four clients, two of whom never want to participate; one is a good writer but prefers to stay in the computer room. The fourth is a Down/OCD guy who generally writes the same stuff over and over, and has to be watched very closely because he steals food and is a choking risk.)

There are then 2-3 other activity periods during the day, with rotating counselors and clients, and a lunch break in the middle. Both the set groups and the rotating groups have 2-3 counselors and 4-9 clients.

It took me about a month to learn everyone's name. I have a harder time learning less-familiar names, plus there are a of names that are very similar. We have four Davids and a Dovid; we have an Aryan, Aryeh, and two Ariels. We have a Chana Rifka, a Chaya Brunchy, a Rivky and a Ruchy and a Rochel. We have two Yaakovs. I even mixed up the counselors for a while; they're mostly in their 20s, and there are about five women with long dark hair, and two skinny guys with short hair, yarmulkes and similar glasses. Maybe five of us are older, around my age.

It's nice not to sit on my ass in front of a computer all day. And I can dress any way I want - basically, a tee shirt and shorts or jeans. Even printed tee shirts are OK, unless they're offensive.

The most frustrating thing is probably when five clients want to talk to me at once. I say, "Please don't interrupt, I'm talking to Moshe." (We have two Moshes.) That doesn't always work.

The counselors are just plain wonderful. Which is a good thing, because I had zero training before I started. We got a little talk on clients' rights and what's considered abuse and how to report it. But I got a call on a Monday to start on Tuesday, and I had to hit the ground running. I'm still learning the little quirks of the clients and how best to handle certain situations. Some of it I've learned by experience but most I learned from the counselors.

The pay is terrible but the benefits are great; most of the bennies are about to kick in since I'm days away from the three-month mark. We work 9-4:30 and 9-2 on Fridays. We have paid time off for tons of Jewish holidays. I wasn't paid for the recent ones since I was still on probation, but will be paid for them retroactively.

Apart from work, there isn't a whole lot of change or news. Barry broke his foot and needed surgery in the spring of 2014, and I spent most of the summer keeping him off his feet - meaning all of the shopping, cooking, cleaning, etc. I did manage to visit Jannah twice and go to the beach with Robin twice. None of that this past summer, though. I missed most of the summer events this year, due to low income and other factors, such as bouts of depression. Last fall, we visited my aunt and uncle, who live near Princeton, for a long weekend, and they spoiled us rotten: put us up in a very nice hotel, took us out for fantastic meals, and we went to Philadelphia to see the Barnes Collection. The last one was my choice; I don't go to museums much lately, but I'd seen a documentary about the Barnes and was very anxious to see it.

My friends are not very available of late. I recently cut my brother off, after yet another year of his not replying to texts, emails or phone calls. I've also cut off my aunt, who had a heart attack some months back. I visited for two days in a row, and on the second day, she was extremely mean to me. I realized that she's been extremely mean to me for about 20 years now, and I cried for a whole day. I talked about it with my therapist and psychiatrist, both of whom said, "You don t have to see her."

My dad is in extraordinarily good health, and about to hit 85. He and my stepmother left today to fly to Amsterdam, then cruise to France, Italy, Spain and Portugal. I only see them on Thanksgiving, since they're way too far away for a day trip (about three hours each way on the subway and LIRR), and their two guest bedrooms are to cluttered with the stuff they moved from their New York apartment when they gave it up to live in East Quogue full-time. When it was still a weekend house, I stayed there a lot.

My health and weight could be better, and once again, I need to stop smoking.Our landlord wants us out by December 1, which is going to be fairly impossible, since we're still catching up and bills and don't have a spare dime.

But overall, life is pretty good. Having an interesting, do-gooder, pressure-free job is a big part of that.

I don't think I've missed anything major in this catch-up, but I will try to post more often.

to begin...

My job had become too difficult and stressful. My duties increased gradually over the nearly three years I was there. Then there was a huge mess earlier this year due to a water main break down the street. We were without phone service for about three weeks, and then without internet for about six weeks. I was using internet from home early in the morning, going into work around 11, leaving around 3:30, then more internet from home. I was practically working 7-7. Once someone suggested that we get a wi-fi hotspot, it improved some, but my desktop didn't take wi-fi so I was working on a laptop and a desktop at the same time. By the time the regular internet was fixed, I was dreadfully behind, and it was one of those spring seasons where there were two major events, two open houses, fall registration to prepare in addition to a lot of catch up.

At the same time, I was seeing a new psychiatrist, who took me off Lamictal and put me on Prozac. I'm not sure how fast Lamictal leaves the system, but I know Prozac takes a while to build up, so I was basically "uncovered" as concerns my depression and anxiety.

So I melted down. It's hard to remember a lot of it, though I was crying at work a lot during the last couple of weeks, then unable to go in at all. My analyst spoke to me by phone every day for a week. As I continued to see the psychiatrist and my meds settled in, I began to feel better, but also realized that 9-5 wasn't for me, never was, and I'd been trying to make myself accustomed to it for years.

I asked if I could return part-time, but they only offered me 14 hours a week, so I chose unemployment instead. I am finally going to find the patience to take better pictures of my jewelry and start an Etsy store, and look for freelance writing work.

In the aftermath, I had some emails from friends at the institute saying they would miss me terribly but also saying they felt I'd been dreadfully overworked. I'd never realized it. One said, "I am very angry with [my two supervisors]. They always overwork and then lose their best people." I hadn't seen it - I just thought that had been the job, and even though I was working flat-out, I was sometimes behind and sometimes very stressed-out.

I worked off a few hours I owed them training the new guy for a few days, but now I'm clear of it. Between that and the meds fully taking hold, I feel a lot better. Freer.

Right before I saw the new psychiatrist, I saw a new primary doctor, who put his foot down about my weight and blood sugar. My blood sugar had been out of control. So I took the whole thing in hand, totally changed the way I was eating, and my sugar is now down to normal, and I've lost about 6 pounds in 8 weeks.

I've changed to Barry's health plan, which was cheaper co-pays, and am beginning the process of a bunch of specialist checkups. Also have to have yet another trigger finger fixed, but it's a thumb, which means just a shot of cortisone and not surgery.

We're shooting to move next month. I'm rather stuck on the idea of living in Bay Ridge.

I apologize that this entry is heavier on news than on feelings, but I'll get caught up on all of it. I feel I have a wealth of time and energy, and being able to keep up with this blog will be one of the benefits.

what's there to say?

Not moved yet. Having a multi-dimensional crisis over life, work, health (physical and mental). We'll see how well I pull out of this one.