Enid Ablowitz: You can't take it with you

He's 103 and in hospice now, weeks or maybe days from passing. He lived life his way.

Formal education ended at sixth grade, yet Mr. H. was the quintessential life-long learner, self educated as each new challenge or interest captured his attention. Well-read, well-informed and wise. He was always self sufficient, engaged, active and charming in a reserved, humble, almost self deprecating way.

A man of few words, though always ready with a wry remark or double entendre.

For him, working was a means to a paycheck. He didn't have a calling or a profession. He did what he had to do -- used his hands as a carpenter, an electrician; he became a New York City policeman for the steady pay and taught himself how to do bookeeping to avoid the danger of the streets. He was good at it and rose through the ranks to become a lieutenant, supervising an accounting department. He retired on a pension, with benefits.

A frugal man, he lived modestly. He saved and invested.

As a centenarian he's been retired longer than he ever worked. Decades of saving. Decades of investing. Decades of compounding and reinvested earnings. Decades of making all his own investment decisions. His lifestyle never changed.

Now, he's had a stroke. His son, his only heir, is called upon to make hard decisions, financial and medical. He discovers that his father's affairs are in order: there is a will and medical directives. Always a private, proud man, Mr. H. never revealed his wealth to his family. His son learns that he will receive a multi-million dollar inheritance and that his father's will includes no tax strategies and no charitable gifts.

This is a true story, one that raises so many questions about money and its impact on the human psyche.

There's a very interesting game called word association where one player says a word and the other says the first word they think of in response.

When the prompt word is "money" the answers can be very revealing. Answers like depression, work, fear, insufficient, loss differ greatly from words like wealth, power, luxury, security. A person's relationship with his or her money is complex and unique to that individual, wrapped up in history, personal experience, personality and values. The perception of sufficiency is relative; the meaning of generosity is relative; acquisition and distribution can ebb and flow.

Yet, for Mr. H, what does it mean to have money if it is "unused?"

Habits of a lifetime are hard to break. Genetics and circumstance combine to drive behavior. Some people were taught, actively or passively through experience, that they must protect themselves from hunger, harm and harrowing life events.

Mr. H had a hard life. His choice was different. He took great care to assure his security but one has to wonder whether he could have distributed some of his resources to some greater purpose. It would seem that by the time he could have done so, his patterning was too deep, too embedded, too inflexible. He may simply never have considered the possibility.

His son built a very different life. He was a teacher; for much of his career he worked with troubled youth, giving generously of himself and often risking his own personal safety and security.

He's 81 now and lives modestly, managing to have seen the world. He has his father's quest for knowledge, but he also has a quest to explore the meaning of life. He is calm, caring, and he too has a quiet way about him.

His inheritance will not change his life. He doesn't feel the need for it, beyond assuring that he can maintain his life into what could be a continuing long life. He will give most of it away, generously and passionately, whether to friends in need or causes that mirror his values. He will gain the satisfaction of transforming the money into so much more by using it wisely to make a difference. He will make money matter.

Mr. H., your time is now very short and you can't take it with you, but your son will honor your legacy.

Enid Ablowitz, CFRE, CPGS, has been a non-profit leader and donor advocate for more than 20 years. She serves as the associate director for the University of Colorado's Coleman Institute for Cognitive Disabilities and as vice president for strategic philanthropy for the University of Colorado Foundation.