Boston Estate Planning and Probate Lawyer & Attorney : Gosselin & Associates Law Firm : Serving Boston, Winchester, Hingham, Wellesley, Manchester

October is my favorite month of the year for estate planning. It is the essence of fall. It is the gateway to winter and analogously, to the Winter of our lives.

October as a time of reflection on life is not lost on Major League Baseball. MLB's slogan for October is "I Life for This". Well, I don't. I mean, I do love baseball. I love the Red Sox. I especially love October baseball. But I don't live for 18 men playing ball for millions of dollars. Baseball is a pastime.

What do we live for? Elders, facing the scourge of aging and the loss of those dear to them, lose clear reasons to live. It is not uncommon for me, when visiting an elderly client at a nursing home, to hear weak voices telling anyone who will listen they want to die.

We live for hope. We live for tomorrow. Without that, death is a comfortable option. What's bothering me is the power of the media, America, Inc., and the organized establishment's role in shaping what they thing retirement and aging should look like for millions of Americans. They employ a cadre of image and word specialists to create viewers, customers and members of organizations.

Take AARP, which after an odd name change, no longer stands for anything - It's just AARP (rhymes with carp, except in Boston where it rhymes with no work in our vocabulary). It is an organization solely committed to delivering the most efficient database of Americans old enough to obtain personal credit (OK, they have some standards - you need to be of "retirement" age, which is defined as age 50).

AARP is essentially a big insurance agency, a vast department store and pharmacy with a direct mail business for every pill pusher, gadget and ointment and older American needs to make life complete. Their mission is to sell and to promote the sale of all manner of tschochkes they think older Americans need to live a good and active life.

The media likewise are entwined with pharmaceutical giants in an effort to maintain fear in the minds of the aged so they can sell them salves and potions.

My generation rarely watches the evening news. How do I know? Well, frankly, how many of us need Lipitor, Viagra, Zoloff or any other little pill? The media machine's news function is largely sponsored by Merck, Pfizer, Novartis and others pandering their trademarked brand for all that ails you.

Many older people watch the news out of fear the world is coming to an end. And it is. Just not today, or in your hometown of Suburbia, USA. I think all of this careful and manipulative branding of what it means to age in America is going to be lost wholesale to the baby boomer generation's unique perspective on things. For one, improved health and increased personal debt will keep them in the workforce for many more years. Retirement, what's that?

Technological connections and improved access to information should help boomers comparison shop for services and test the vapid claims of unscrupulous salesmen.

Last, boomers are tired of being boomers. Seriously, how many times do you need to hear you were the product of your parents' pent-up sexual energy, after years of war in foreign lands? These people were rock'n rollers, hippies, yippies, yuppies, dinks and now boomers. They have had enough of labels. I'm looking forward to watching boomers break the media-imposed aging model AARP and the pharmaceutical machine has so carefully created for them.

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A longtime client of the firm bought a house in Cambridge today. He is from a foreign country and is quite fascinated by the American Colonial style of his new home. The house was built about 200 years ago with the usual additions and renovations. It is quite stately and is part of the National Register of Historic Places and just exudes a New England charm. Since he is from another country I thought it appropriate to get him a housewarming gift that had local flavor. Um, a regular and a crueller from Dunkin' Donuts? Oh yeah, right, no more cruellers. They don't even get up to make the donuts anymore. Well I could go to Paine's and get a nice ottoman. Nope. Or Jordan's (not the furniture store) for some blueberry muffins. A nice toaster oven from Lechmere? Gone. This is going to be harder than I thought. A colonial house would do well to have a Paul Revere bowl. You've got me where to buy one that isn't shipped from the other side of the planet. Then it hit me like a big wet fish - a gurgling cod!

For those of you that don't know about the gurgling cod, they are a longstanding Boston tradition sold exclusively by the venerable Boston jeweler, Shreve, Crump & Low. So I called S,C & L: "I'm sorry but we have recently been in bankruptcy and have just been purchased by a new company. We expect to be open shortly. Try our store in Chesnut Hill." At long last I spoke with a real Bostonian (in Chesnut Hill, but close enough), who could ship my client a gurgling cod pitcher. The brand failure in Boston is quite depressing.

Dunkin' Donuts is owned by some gallactic conglomerate, Gillette bows to Cincinatti and P&G, all the banks have now merged so it's like a Fisher Price playset - "Bank" is now the official shortened name (with plans to reduce staff and save signage costs by becoming Bnk). I miss those light blue cans of Friend's beans too. Jordan's Furniture is owned by Warren Buffett - he can afford all those Jordan's Furniture Red Sox rebates. Quaint Bostonian shops in the Faneuil Hall marketplace? The Gap, Williams-Sonoma, The Sharper Image..... At least Legal Seafoods hasn't lost its Boston roots like the 99, Friday's and Bertucci's. As a seventh generation Bostonian (the first born outside the city limits), I wish we could preserve some of our business institutions, otherwise I guess we should just all move to Florida. At least I can go to downtown crossing have a frappe at Woolworth & Co. and stop by Filene's Basement......OH FORGET IT!

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It's unclear when the caffeine buzz will wear off, especially after this morning's quadruple Americano to get the day started. Day. Night. It's all a blur to me in October. If there was any doubt among my regular blog readers where I was until the wee hours....

It all started with the Dropkick Murphys and some adorable little girls step dancing to the entrancing beat of an Irish drum. Clearly the Red Sox were invoking the pagan gods of the Emerald Isle to ward off any possible curses lingering from 1918 (when the Irish probably couldn't buy a ticket to the game or had to sit in the bleachers where their skin blistered). Well, it worked.

Daisuke was on his game, retiring batters 1-2-3 for the first few innings. He pitched with a sobriety of purpose, like he knew every one of Boston's sons and daughters understood the Samurai code that would have required him to take some extreme measures against himself if his pitching wasn't worth $500,000 a pitch. Once he cruised through a few innings, the Samurai could come off the ledge, he was one of the 'ole gang from Killarney. Okajima held his own until Lugo nearly single handedly ended the Red Sox season through hubris in playing short stop and left field. Then the party started.

Jonathan Papelbon is my kind of guy. He would make a great trial lawyer- expert, professional and slightly crazy. The craziness of Jonathan Papelbon of course is nothing but an act. This boy comes to play with fire. Throwing fastball strike after fastball strike, Papelbon is a pleasure to watch, the theatrics of his killer stare and Irish step dancing just make the show complete. Ortiz and Ramirez were bit players in the cast last night. And the night before. I'm looking forward to the law of averages to kick in soon.

My great-grandfather owned a bar in Codman Square BEFORE prohibition. His competitor was the Kennedy family (yes, THAT Kennedy family), when prohibition came my great-grandfather called last call, the Kennedys (well, I digress). He was a die hard Red Sox fan, especially in his older days when radio games became available. He died in 1936, but I think the Red Sox gene has skipped down a couple generations, I can feel it in my 9th generation Boston blood. Don't let my French name fool you, my family tree is planted in Irish peat.

Somehow it's all connected. We are all connected. It's called the Chaos Theory. Essentially the Chaos Theory is when even the most insignificant variations, over time, can create monumental change. Irish drums, Samurai ethos, contrived lunacy, vicarious cheers from old grand dad. It's all connected. It's not the Red Sox players and their heroic feats at Fenway Park alone, these men have the strongest karmic forces in the universe wearing B's and singing Sweet Caroline. The World Series in Boston.

I like saying World Series in Boston. World Series in Boston. World Series in Boston. I can't stop. One more time, World Series in Boston. :)

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October is my favorite month of the year for estate planning. It is the essence of fall. It is the gateway to winter and analogously, to the Winter of our lives.

October as a time of reflection on life is not lost on Major League Baseball. MLB's slogan for October is "I Life for This". Well, I don't. I mean, I do love baseball. I love the Red Sox. I especially love October baseball. But I don't live for 18 men playing ball for millions of dollars. Baseball is a pastime.

What do we live for? Elders, facing the scourge of aging and the loss of those dear to them, lose clear reasons to live. It is not uncommon for me, when visiting an elderly client at a nursing home, to hear weak voices telling anyone who will listen they want to die.

We live for hope. We live for tomorrow. Without that, death is a comfortable option. What's bothering me is the power of the media, America, Inc., and the organized establishment's role in shaping what they thing retirement and aging should look like for millions of Americans. They employ a cadre of image and word specialists to create viewers, customers and members of organizations.

Take AARP, which after an odd name change, no longer stands for anything - It's just AARP (rhymes with carp, except in Boston where it rhymes with no work in our vocabulary). It is an organization solely committed to delivering the most efficient database of Americans old enough to obtain personal credit (OK, they have some standards - you need to be of "retirement" age, which is defined as age 50).

AARP is essentially a big insurance agency, a vast department store and pharmacy with a direct mail business for every pill pusher, gadget and ointment and older American needs to make life complete. Their mission is to sell and to promote the sale of all manner of tschochkes they think older Americans need to live a good and active life.

The media likewise are entwined with pharmaceutical giants in an effort to maintain fear in the minds of the aged so they can sell them salves and potions.

My generation rarely watches the evening news. How do I know? Well, frankly, how many of us need Lipitor, Viagra, Zoloff or any other little pill? The media machine's news function is largely sponsored by Merck, Pfizer, Novartis and others pandering their trademarked brand for all that ails you.

Many older people watch the news out of fear the world is coming to an end. And it is. Just not today, or in your hometown of Suburbia, USA. I think all of this careful and manipulative branding of what it means to age in America is going to be lost wholesale to the baby boomer generation's unique perspective on things. For one, improved health and increased personal debt will keep them in the workforce for many more years. Retirement, what's that?

Technological connections and improved access to information should help boomers comparison shop for services and test the vapid claims of unscrupulous salesmen.

Last, boomers are tired of being boomers. Seriously, how many times do you need to hear you were the product of your parents' pent-up sexual energy, after years of war in foreign lands? These people were rock'n rollers, hippies, yippies, yuppies, dinks and now boomers. They have had enough of labels. I'm looking forward to watching boomers break the media-imposed aging model AARP and the pharmaceutical machine has so carefully created for them.

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It first hit me in 1976 when I was 7 years old. There was an acute bout in 1978, then I was symptom-free until 1986 when it nearly took me down.

The next 18 years passed with few difficulties except for the lingering effects of the disease that has controlled my life.

In 2004, I thought I was finally cured even though rationally I know this condition is incurable. In the past few years I have suffered staggering effects from the ravages of this disease that over 4 million Americans share.

The distribution range of infection seems to be most heavily concentrated in the northeastern United States, although it has begun to spread throughout the country and now, to foreign lands.

The symptoms can be hideous. Those with experience in treating this disease were right when they said the nausea would pass. The sleepless nights, followed by days of lethargy and worry over my condition would pass too - but not easily.

Although incurable, the symptoms seem to be most prevalent in the Autumn. Those who have it, notice the most pronounced immunological response at about the time the leaves change colors. Scientists and researchers knows there is a seasonal component, but think the timing of the resurgence of the disease, along with the leaf change is coincidental, not causative.

It can lie dormant for several years. In these dormant years the most notable symptom is depression and a profound sense of loss. Other prominent signs include a strong sociological response to others who either do not carry the genetic marker or who have not been environmentally exposed to the core strain of the disease.

There are many variants and one would think those who suffer, would be more patient with those with similar strains.  This is not the case, however and research has shown not only is there a lack of patience, but a certain vitriol.

The disease is believed to have its roots in congenital factors . There are known cases of mutations where those living in foreign lands came down with it. Usually one parent carries the gene. When both parents have it, there is a near 100% likelihood the offspring will inherit the disease.

It is common for groups of sufferers to spontaneously gather in support of each other, depending on seasonality and the virulence of the group's infection.

Unfortunately, co-conditions -- alcohol abuse and loud oral outbursts are most indicative of an outbreak. Despite its clear congenital roots, there are many known cases where the disease developed from environmental exposure.

In rare cases, individuals have spontaneously recovered while living abroad, only to suffer the most devastating re-infection upon return to this country, especially if they should move back or even visit New England for an extended span. Notable American sufferers include the actor Ben Affleck and horror author Stephen King. They try to bear their affliction with quiet dignity.

Even with my best efforts to fight the disease this past week, I believe this will be another difficult year for me. You see, Red Sox Fever is a lifelong illness.

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I went to the Boston Red Sox this past Saturday with my 7 year old. I measure the success of a trip to the Red Sox with one of my sons by a complicated calculus of the number of innings we actually watch, the number of innings spent in the restroom, the cost of souvenirs and the number of different snacks consumed. Well, this game was a winner on all counts.

It started as we settled into our comfortable first base line seats with our Fenway Franks and peanuts still in the shell. A father and son of about the same age as my son and myself desperately came up to us and asked if we would switch seats with them. You see, the little boy, in his little league Red Sox uniform and wearing his Franklin/Butch Hobson glove - must have been dad's glove, was focused on catching a foul ball. His dad, through one connection or another had managed to get the 'seats of a lifetime' directly behind home plate. These seats offered an amazing view of every pitch and a closeness to the players that verges on creepy. But, because of some Massachusetts lawyer in 1912, there's a net behind home plate so the well-heeled fans don't lose any teeth. Seeing that I could both score great seats and make this little boy's day (that would be the little boy in ME), we moved down to Section 47.

We did see what we had expected from this very special little piece of prime Boston real estate - not to mention hearing the sounds of the game like never before. A Curt Shilling fast ball smacking Varitek's glove brings resounding joy to the true believers. Because of the netting surrounding our little area, it can feel a little like a cage with us chimpanzees looking out at the rest of the fans and the field. After $100 a ticket for the seat, probably $50 a head in snacks and drinks and as much to park - do you think that some of the best major league ball players in the world would provide the best entertainment to those lucky chimpanzees in the home plate cage? Nope. Pro baseball was a distant second to the chimpanzees' favorite sport - watching people relate to foul balls. Not a stray ball was hit that didn't lead the crowd to a strong emotional response. OOOHHHH!!! She really got 'beaned' by that one! Beer Bath Row 15!! One hander! Cute kid with glove run down by fat drunk guy! Fumble by the rich guy with the field seat he doesn't deserve the ball. Holy Bleachers Batman! He's going to fall into left field! And on, and on, and on. I have never seen such a degree of mass human entertainment since those expert lawyers in the OJ Case made a mockery of the American legal system and embarrassed lawyers wholesale across the country. And so it went for the entire game (which was as good as a baseball game gets by the way) - the chimpanzees hooped and hollered about every last ball.

Don't forget the grounded fouls. "Give the ball to the kid." The all powerful ball boy granted $6 rawhide wishes on deserving fans throughout the game. Even Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz went out of their ways to toss balls into the stands - they know how the chimpanzees love their bananas! We could all save a lot of money and just have a pitcher and a batter on the field (that should keep us under the payroll cap) hitting balls into the stands to see who loses a tooth, gets a black eye or makes the people 25 feet below him smell like a brewery. It might lower the cost of this Boston real estate, but then again with all the lawyers in Boston, they might make them put up a net around the whole crowd - even people in the cheap real estate can then be chimpanzees too!

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My father always said that the first 100 years were the hardest in life. From the looks of things in the growing number of centenerians in the world, I'd say he was right on the money. Look here from some amazing statistics about aging in the US. Life expectancy in the US has been increasing among the population as a whole dramatically, even in just the past 10 years. This increase of course is mostly due to medical advances, improved communication about diseases allowing for early diagnoses and the end of the Boston Red Sox' "curse of the bambino" (just my theory).

In elder law practice this shift towards amazing longevity has caused us to re-examine some of our most basic tenets for planning, and indeed with more clients living longer increasing the range and scope of our services. As people live longer and longer, or at least as their bodies do, diseases that cause memory loss (such as dementia, Alzheimers) or forms of psychoses (particularly severe depression) and other neurological conditions that reduce either or both cognitive or communication skills of the patient are increasing dramatically. Often families do not have any history of the diseases as noone had ever reached such ages in past generations.

As we counsel clients we no longer make the assumption that clients will have relatively short periods of skilled care, but rather we must take very seriously the prospect that a client could not only outlive their personal financial resources, but also need skilled care for many years. This long term care period could last years beyond what we've considered the conventional wisdom for convalescent care. In addition, we have several client situations where two generations of a family are in nursing care at the same time - perhaps mom is in her 90's and her child in her 70's and both are in long term care. Which leaves adult grandchildren and great-grandchildren in fiduciary roles once reserved only for children. Not only does this expand the family tree and the size of the inevitable "committee" that makes decisions, but also the burden on the younger generations to manage both their own families and the decisions of the elders that are depending upon them.

I will come back to this topic again as the impending arrival of the baby boomers in their troisieme age is changing everything. GosselinLaw.com >

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