True Dat

True:  Conforming to the actual state of reality or fact; factually correct.  (Ed. Note: That definition makes me laugh out loud.  The "actual state of reality," indeed.)

I have been pondering the phrase, here in our election season: "It's not the act - it's the cover-up."

A number of years ago my sister and I decided to split the cost of a new TV for my parents - a huge investment of $200 - as a house-warming gift.  I ordered the thing, slapped down my credit card, and had it shipped to their apartment.  My sister never paid me her half of the gift, adding insult to injury by joking about it a few times.  I was mildly irritated but eventually just wrote off the hundred.  It was easier to take the loss than nurture the resentment.

Although the fact I remember the incident in such vivid detail indicates that I'm maybe kinda holding on to something.

When my father died I immediately began imagining all of the ways that my sister was going to try to maneuver more of his small inheritance into her pocket and out of mine.  She did have access to a few of his accounts - rightfully so, to help him pay bills as he failed - and access to his person - to wheedle and cajole and manipulate, if she wanted to.  As the executor I have the responsibility of seeing that the will is executed according to dad's wishes; namely, a 50 - 50 split.  I have been really pleased at how well she and I have cooperated during the laborious process, especially because all things money are fraught with perilous potential.  Once again - I imagine the worst and marvel at how much mental energy I've wasted hallucinating up scenarios that don't come to pass.

I got a check today to be deposited into an estate checking account that the court requires be set up to settle any outstanding debts that the estate owes.  A good thing.  The check was about 15% of the amount listed on the latest statement that I had.  A bad thing.  I pinged my sister, wondering if the bank had not closed all of the accounts, leaving the rest of the money still in their greedy, grasping, octopus-like Large Financial Institution hands.

Her reply: "Yes, there's a possible small glitch that I need to talk to you about."

The small glitch was that dad had decided to will the other 85% to my two nieces to help fund a college fund about 15 months ago.  My mind takes a journey down "I'm Getting Screwed Lane" and takes it all the way to the end.  My assumption, of course, is that I got cut out of something that was rightfully mine.  This would be a very, very bad thing, not because of the amount of money but because They're Out To Screw Me!!  The money, of course, was my father's and he was free to do whatever he wanted to with it.  He could have said: "Seaweed - you're out of the fucking loop.  How do you like them apples?"

Some good common sense learned in The Program - "restraint of tongue and pen" - advice that has been honed to a sharp point by failure after failure, due mostly to the total idiocy of the concept, came to the rescue.  I talked this over with my spouse; I jotted down some notes in an email draft which I quickly sidetracked into a Saved Drafts folder; a message on the voice mail of my sponsor; and things sorted themselves out.  I have ceded the funds without a fight.  The funds aren't worth the fight.  I had actually planned on giving most of the amount to my niece's college fund as an expression of love and gratitude for all of the help my sister had given my folks over the last five years as I sat on a chair, in the sun, contemplating my navel, here in Vacation City. 

So the point is that it's not the money - it's the whiff of subterfuge.  If dad and sis had just told me this was going down I would have been all "that's cool" about it.  Again - dad's money, not my money.  Now I'm left to imagine that her intent was to hope that I didn't notice that the account was much reduced, leaving me much more suspicious of her motives in all future events. Remember the $200 TV, or have you forgotten it already?  I didn't care a whit about the act - I cared about the dissembling, the hiding.

I always say that I try to tell the truth not because I like to tell the truth - much preferring lying and exaggerating and embellishing - but because I so hate to get caught telling a lie.