Why Does the Name of a Trust Matter?

As an estate planning attorney, a large percentage of my practice is devoted to creating trusts for my clients.  Normally, the name of the trust would be the name of the client along with the date of the trust.  For example, my trust reads the "Robert A. Feisee Living  Trust dated January 1, 2002".  I think that we are missing an opportunity in passing on more than just a sterile legal document when we pick the name of our trust.

A colleague of mine, John Warnick, Esq., is a visionary in this field who has really made me rethink the way I work with my clients. I went to a conference a few months ago where he explained that naming your trust is a great way to pass on your legacy and values to your beneficiaries.  It makes perfect sense and I am hoping to implement this technique with my clients this year and hopefully long into the future.

Here is my first draft of my new trust name:

"The Feisee Possibility Trust -   This name has been chosen to reflect our family’s heritage and belief that anything is possible if you put your mind to it and you believe in yourself.  My mother and father escaped from Iran and came to this country not knowing the language and less than a $100 to their name. They built successful medical practices through hard work and a belief in themselves.  I was a young boy who had a dream to play in the lacrosse national championship game and I did it.  I had a clear vision of my dream, I practiced every day and I believed in myself. Now I own my own law practice using the same tools that were taught to me by my parents.  Don’t ever lose your faith in yourself or your family.  You can do whatever you put your mind to. The possibilities are endless. . ."

 I think the new name of my trust has a better ring to it than my previous name. I am going to go with that one for now until I think of something better.  How about your trust? Do you like the name?  Do you think you can put more of YOU into that name?

Capturing and Transferring What Matters Most?

A few days ago was the 1 year anniversary of my father's death.  He battled alzehimer's for over 10 years.  This weekend I reflected on some of my most favorite memories of my father and I realized all those memories are in my head.  They are not written down or recorded anywhere.  My father had a great smile that could light up a room and he told great stories about how he struggled growing up.  How I wish I could hear his voice just one more time.  The problem is, no ever thought about recording his stories. There was always an excuse (we'll do it later, we don't have a recorder, i'm busy).  Those excuses pale in comparison to the powerful impact those stories would have had on me a few days ago.

By chance, I had a conversation with my mother a few months ago where she revealed another of my dad's stories that he never told me. He was a young doctor working in a small "village" hospital.  He was in charge of one of the sick wards and he was tired of the lack of funding for the patients' care.  The rooms were unsanitary and there was an inadequate inventory of medicine. He became very frustrated with the Hospital Administration's rejection of his repeated requests for better conditions for his patients.

My mom then looked at me in the eye, and with a smile she said. . . "Do you know what your father did for his patients? He went on a Hunger Strike! That's right, he refused to eat until his patients were given adequate care.  He almost lost his job, his medical license, basically his whole career over this incident. He was willing to sacrifice it all for what he believed in.  Well, it caused such a commotion at the hospital that the higher ups looked at the situation more closely and they upgraded the beds as well as the medicine."

Then my mom looked at me again. . . ."Bobby, what are you willing to do for your clients? Will you be as dedicated as your father?"

I had tears in my eyes when my mom told me that story. It gave me more strength and energy than any amount of money or material assets could give me. This lesson is priceless and it is what matters most about my dad...his integrity.

The scary thing is that I may have never heard that story unless my mom and I happen to stumble on that conversation.  These stories are priceless on the one hand, but on the other hand, they are fragile and fleeting if not preserved.  One of my missions for the people I work with is to capture, preserve and protect their stories as a guardian.  These stories are what life is about. They are real and it is what brings families together during difficult times.

Don't wait until it is too late. Capture your stories now while you can remember and enjoy them!