Diary of a Geriatric Scarlet: November 15, 2050
Today I dressed in plaid woolens and took a jaunt uptown to meet my niece for lunch. Long ago, when she was eight years old, I recall a visit with her to American Girl, that venerable retail monolith on 48th Street.
I recall my horror at the unapologetic materialism rampant in the place. The Have-Nots stand at full attention looking hungry and tired. Meanwhile, the Haves don't notice anything beyond how many little sparkly doll outfits and doll pet beds and doll hair accessories there remain to buy.
I remember the kneejerk reaction to mention charity to my niece, as in, donating to a worthy cause. Instead of amassing glutinous pile of toys.
I think that was the day I truly decided to set up my charitable trust. Because I have little desire to die amidst a pile of hoarded trinkets while children starve on the streets. And I have even less desire to bankroll heirs into a frenzy of thoughtless entitlement.
The balancing act is to ensure my niece and nephews covet their inheritance sufficiently to continue to have lunch with an old self-absorbed havisham such as myself.
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| Very much of an American Girl Muchness. |
I remember the kneejerk reaction to mention charity to my niece, as in, donating to a worthy cause. Instead of amassing glutinous pile of toys.
I think that was the day I truly decided to set up my charitable trust. Because I have little desire to die amidst a pile of hoarded trinkets while children starve on the streets. And I have even less desire to bankroll heirs into a frenzy of thoughtless entitlement.
The balancing act is to ensure my niece and nephews covet their inheritance sufficiently to continue to have lunch with an old self-absorbed havisham such as myself.
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